Great Expectations…

by Teedzani Thapelo

The winds of October came thick with dust and whispers, stirring the vast grasslands and city streets of Botswana into a trembling anticipation. On the 30th of this momentous month in 2024, the unexpected became real, and the ground beneath the nation shifted like the Kalahari dunes under a gale.

The Umbrella for Democratic Change (UDC), long seen as a mere shadow cast by the towering Botswana Democratic Party (BDP), claimed an electoral triumph that stunned even its most loyal followers. It was as though the sky itself had cracked open, spilling light into corners darkened by decades of political dominance.

The Botswana Democratic Party, which for over half a century had ruled with an unbroken chain of victories, faced its reckoning. Like the mighty baobab that stands tall until termites hollow its core, the BDP fell not to foreign invaders or natural disasters, but to the quiet erosion of trust, the muffled cries of the people, and the weight of its own hubris.

To many, it seemed a twist of fate worthy of African folklore—an epic tale where the once-untouchable leader is humbled by forces beyond his grasp, forces rooted in the will of the people.

The UDC’s triumph, led by the determined Duma Boko, was not a mere accident of politics; it was the manifestation of democracy’s unpredictable brilliance. It was a moment when the chorus of the nation’s grievances—jobs lost, hospitals crumbling, schools faltering—rose so loud that even the thick walls of power could not muffle them.

Yet, as the victory drums faded, a sobering question emerged: What now?

This political earthquake has ushered Botswana into what many are calling its Second Republic—a term that evokes hope, renewal, and the promise of change. But with it comes a burden: the weight of the people’s “great expectations.”

The UDC now finds itself standing at the edge of a precipice, gazing into a future both promising and perilous.

The challenges are staggering.

Public hospitals, once beacons of care in southern Africa, are now shadows of their former selves. The sick wait in lines that stretch like cattle paths, while medicines remain locked away in bureaucratic tangles. Corruption, like a termite infestation, has weakened the once-strong beams of public institutions. And the economy, battered by global shifts and internal neglect, limps like a wounded antelope.

Boko, a man who has long promised change, must now deliver. The people demand an end to empty speeches and half-measures. The UDC must overhaul public services with a precision that cuts through decades of inefficiency.

But how?

The answer lies not just in plans and policies, but in the deep well of hope that propelled the UDC to power.

Here, the surrealist dimensions of this moment become clear. Who could have imagined that in a nation so deeply shaped by the BDP’s legacy, the people would rise to reject it? It is as though an unseen hand guided their will, a hand that does not care for titles or traditions, but only for justice. In this sense, the UDC’s victory feels like a dream—unreal yet undeniably true.

The new government must not squander this rare gift. Botswana, a land of vast skies and resilient people, deserves leaders who see beyond personal gain. The UDC must set its sights on the long game, crafting a vision that lifts the nation out of its current malaise and into a future of shared prosperity. They must listen to the farmers who toil under an unforgiving sun, the miners who dig deep into the earth for wealth they seldom share, and the youth whose futures feel as uncertain as the rains.

As the first rains of November break over the land, washing away the dust of the election, there is a sense of renewal in the air. The people are watching, waiting, their faith both fragile and fierce.

The UDC has been handed not just a mandate, but a mission—a chance to prove that democracy in Botswana is alive and well, capable of reinventing itself when the old ways fail.

But with great expectations comes great responsibility. Boko and his team must remember that the story of Botswana is not theirs alone to write. It belongs to the nurses who save lives with too few resources, the teachers who inspire despite broken chalkboards, the mothers who walk miles to fetch water.

These are the real heroes of the Second Republic, and it is for them that the UDC must govern.

In the years to come, historians may look back on this election as a turning point—a moment when the people, weary of the old ways, reached for something new. Whether the UDC rises to meet this moment or falls under its weight remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: Botswana’s journey has entered a new chapter, one filled with uncertainty and promise in equal measure.

The land waits, as it always has, for the rains to bring life to its parched soil. And the people wait, too, for their new leaders to nurture the seeds of hope they have sown. It is a delicate dance between expectation and reality, between dreams and deeds.

But if the UDC can lead with wisdom and courage, perhaps, just perhaps, those great expectations will bear fruit, and Botswana will rise anew, stronger and more united than ever before.