On the 23rd of February 2018 I joined my mother and 2 of her siblings, my uncle and my aunty, on about a 5 hour-drive to Randfontein, South Africa, for a funeral.
Although I have lived in nearby Midrand for 6 years between 2001 and 2006; this was the very first time I travelled to Randfontein. The deceased was husband to my cousin. Whose 93 year old father is my mother’s “half” brother.
When I was growing up, I was spoilt to the stories of Randfontein. I was told of the Butchery that my mother’s brother, Ra-Kgomotso, together with his wife, Mma-Kgomotso owned. I was told of the Bar that they owned. And I was also told of the General Dealer Store that they owned. It was barely 10 years after Botswana attained her independence and when poverty was rampant across the country, in the mid 70s when my mother and her siblings frequented the mining town of Randfontein.
Eched in my memory is my mother’s vivid discriptions of the delicious oxtails, the fried ox liver, the fried chicken, the yellow cheese, her small hand grabbed on his enntreprenurial brother’s jacket as they navigated the crowded Johannesburg Streets. As well as the catchy South African Tswana accents, and phrases such as: “Ba tlhaga Btswana”, Kena ka mole”. I also remember that everytime they went to Randfontein, particularly when I was about ages of 6-13 years, they brought back with them a basket of bright yellow scones, the delicious oxtails and the spicy beef stews.
It was fitting that my mother and father travelled to South Africa to buy a stock of clothers, shoes, home clocks, and other accessories just before opening their Borakanelo General Dealer store in 1994. They would spend the night at Randfontein and just before sunrise, Oupaki, son to my mother’s brother, my late cousin, would drive them around the complicated Jozi streets.
From Botswana to South Africa and back they were usually driven by the late Rre Tebogo Sebonego, Rraagwe Kitso, who was husband to my mother’s sister, Mmaagwe Kitso, my aunty. The other times they were driven by Rre Mokwadi Mogojwa, Ra-Tlhomamo, son to the late Rre Hologang Mogojwa, who was my fathers uncle, brother to my father’s mother.
What I loved of this trip to Randfontein was that, I represented the next generation from “Btswana” at the funeral. For the 3 siblings I was with, Randfontein is part and parcel of their identity. Perhaps, this was a significant moment in my life in explicitly acknowleding the vital role Randfontein has played in shaping and reshaping my mother and her siblings lives, my life.
Just after crossing the Ramatlabama Border Post into South Africa, my mother fondly narrated that when my late father was a miner at Roodepoort, perhaps sometime in the mid-80s, the deceased, Mr Eric Tlhapane, affectionately known as Bra E, who originated from Bethane, and was now residing at Randfontein, once drove to fetch my father from the nearby Durban Deep Mine city to join my mother and her siblings in Randfontein for a funeral. I was happy when I heard this revelation. This was, perhaps, a validation that I just had to be there. Although I did not share this story with one of the deceased’s sons. It was an honour and a privilege to be able to shake his hand and reconnect, relive and probably continue our fathers’ drive from Roodepoort to Randfontein.
L-R: Kgomoso; yours trully; Rre Mokhine from Bethane (cousin to the deceased); my aunt Lillian; mama; Ra-Kgomoso.
The morning of the funeral.
Photo by my uncle Willy, 24.02.18
Blessing Kgosi e tsile Kgasa 