Kikase, Gaborone (2026)

A global family teaching practical skills for any industry, helping youth start businesses, creating jobs, and building community through wellness, charity, global conferences, and leadership retreats. A global family teaching practical skills, helping youth start businesses, creating jobs, and building community through wellness, charity, conferences, and retreats.

12/06/2026

The Grandparents We Are Forgetting

We just did a donation at Monax Shelter. Winter clothes. Jackets. Small blankets. Shoes. Nothing fancy. Just warm things for cold nights. For people who have no one else to warm them.

As I stood there, watching the elderly shuffle in, wrapped in whatever they had, I could not stop thinking. Where are their children? Where are their grandchildren? Where are the people they raised, fed, clothed, and sacrificed for?

Some of them have children. Some have grandchildren. But those children are gone. In other countries. Caring for other people's grandparents.

I have seen it. Young Batswana leaving for the United Kingdom, the United States, Europe. They go to work as caregivers. They look after elderly strangers. They bathe them. Feed them. Dress them. Hold their hands when they are confused and afraid. They are good at it. Compassionate. Trained.

And I do not blame them. A job is a job. A salary is a salary. Survival is survival.

But here is the question that haunts me. Who is looking after their own grandparents back home? While they are tucking in a British pensioner, who is checking on their own grandmother? Who is making sure she has eaten? Who is sitting with her when she cannot remember where she is? The answer is often no one.

I have learned something that disturbs me deeply. When elderly people with dementia wander at night, confused and lost, society labels them as witches. Baloi. They are stigmatized. Sometimes even by their own children.

This is not just a Botswana problem. In Kenya, people with dementia are called "wendawazimu," which means mad person. They are associated with witchcraft. They are isolated, neglected, dispossessed of their assets. In Ghana, elderly women accused of witchcraft are banished to camps. Their own families turn against them. They live with no clean water, no healthcare, foraging for food.

And in Botswana, the same thing happens. When an old person wanders at night, confused and scared, people whisper. They point fingers. They call them witches.

But here is what no one tells you. Wandering is a symptom of dementia. Around sixty percent of people with dementia will wander at least once. They get disoriented. They cannot recognize their own home. They wake up at night because their sleep-wake cycle is broken. They are not casting spells. They are lost. They need our compassion. Not our accusations.

Infancy and old age are the same. Both require total care. A baby cannot feed itself. Neither can an elderly person with advanced dementia. A baby cannot control when it uses the bathroom. Neither can an old person whose body is failing. A baby cries when it is frightened or in pain. An old person wanders.

But we do not call a baby a witch. We do not abandon a baby. We do not steal a baby's pension.

When we are old, we may lose our memory. We may not recognize our own children. We may wake up at midnight and try to walk out the door because our brain is confused. We may become what feels like a burden. And one day, that will be us. Every single person reading this will grow old. If we are lucky. If we live long enough. Our bodies will fail. Our minds may fail. And we will need someone to take care of us.

So here is what I think we need to do.

We need to upgrade our elderly shelters. Better beds. Proper heating. Medical equipment. Caregivers who understand dementia.

We need to educate our people about dementia, about Alzheimer's, about what it means to grow old. So that when an old person wanders at night, we do not call them a witch. We wrap a blanket around them and guide them back to bed.

We need to stop exporting our caregivers and start valuing them at home. Pay them well. Train them well. Give them the resources they need to care for our own grandparents with dignity.

To the Ministry of Health. Build geriatric wards. Make sure every district has a facility where elderly people can be cared for with dignity.

To the Ministry of Local Government and Rural Development. Fund the shelters. Monax cannot survive on donations alone.
To the Ministry of Finance. Botswana is rich. The money is there. It is about priorities. It is about values. It is about whether we believe that the people who built this country deserve to die with dignity.

To every Motswana reading this. Call your grandmother. Visit your grandfather. Check on the elderly person who lives next door. Do not wait for the government to do what you can do today.

The elderly are not witches. They are not burdens. They are not forgotten. They are the ones who carried us on their backs. Who paid school fees they could not afford. Who stayed up at night when we were sick. Who sacrificed their bodies, their youth, their dreams, so that we could have ours.

Now they are old. And they are cold. And they are alone.

We cannot bring back their children from the UK. We cannot undo the years of neglect. But we can start today. Donate blankets. Volunteer at shelters. Visit your grandparents. Call out the stigma. Demand better from our government.

Infancy and old age are the same. They both require care. And one day, we will be the ones in that bed. Wandering at night. Hoping that someone comes for us.

Let us be the people who come.

Share this if you believe our grandparents deserve better. Share this if you will be the one who comes.

10/06/2026

The King and Queen: A Lesson Botswana Refuses to Learn

I have been thinking about chess lately. Not the game. The metaphor.

You know how the king is the most important piece? Lose him, you lose the game. But the king is slow. Limited. He moves one square at a time. He cannot protect himself. He needs everyone around him.

Then you have the queen. Most powerful piece on the board. She moves like a castle, straight any distance. She moves like a bishop, diagonal any distance. She is the only piece that does both. Flexible. Fierce. Everywhere at once.

And what does she do with all that power? She protects the king.

Not because she is weaker. Because she is stronger. The queen does not need the king. The king needs the queen.

That metaphor has been stuck in my head for weeks.

For decades, Botswana has acted like the king. Slow. Limited. Moving one square at a time. And when we cannot move, when we cannot protect ourselves, when we cannot build what we need, we call on foreigners to be our queen.

We invite them to move like castles. Straight in, any distance. We pay them. We celebrate them. We give them our resources, our contracts, our respect.

And what do we do with our own people? We ignore them.

We have young Batswana engineers, architects, builders, electricians, mechanics, welders, programmers, designers. Trained. Ready. Willing. But we do not call on them. We call on foreigners.

We have young Batswana who have submitted proposals, shared ideas, offered solutions. They have done the research. Written the plans. Knocked on doors. But the doors do not open. Or worse, they open just enough to take the ideas, then close again.

We have a queen of our own. And we refuse to let her protect us.

Let me give you a number. Unemployment in Botswana is around 25%. Among youth, it is even higher. Thousands of young Batswana finish school, finish university, finish training every year. And every year, too many sit at home. Waiting. For a chance that never comes.

Meanwhile, work permits for foreigners keep being issued. Contractors from other countries keep being hired. Consultants from elsewhere keep being paid.

Look, I am not saying no foreigner should ever work in Botswana. That is not what I am saying. I am saying we have our own people who can do the work. Our own engineers to build our roads. Our own electricians to wire our buildings. Our own programmers to write our software. Our own strategists to solve our problems.

But we do not hire them. We do not trust them. We do not invest in them. We call the queen from somewhere else.

I have watched young Batswana graduate at the top of their classes. I have watched them apply for jobs, submit proposals, attend interviews. I have watched them get rejected. Not because they are not qualified. Because someone from somewhere else was preferred.

I have watched ministries sit on proposals from Batswana for months, even years. No response. And then I have watched those same ministries hire foreign consultants to propose the exact same solutions.

I have watched the government launch programmes that sound good on paper. But when you ask who is implementing them, who is advising them, who is profiting from them, the answer is too often not a Motswana.

We are building a country. But we are not letting Batswana build it.

The queen does not wait to be invited. She does not beg for permission. She moves. She is powerful. Strategic. Flexible. But she also protects. She does not abandon the king. She builds. She defends. She makes sure the king survives.

That is what our young people want to do. Build. Protect. Make sure Botswana survives and thrives. But we will not let them. We would rather import a queen than crown our own.

So here is what I am asking. To the ministries watching. To the policymakers reading. To the private sector leaders scrolling. Stop outsourcing our future. Your own people are ready. Your own people are qualified. Your own people have submitted proposals, offered solutions, knocked on doors. Answer them. Hire Batswana. Trust Batswana. Invest in Batswana.
I am not saying this because I am angry. I am saying it because I am tired. Tired of watching young people graduate and wait. Tired of watching proposals disappear into silence. Tired of watching foreigners build what Batswana could build better.

The queen is already here. Educated. Skilled. Willing. Crown her. Let her protect the king.

To the young people reading this, do not stop knocking. Do not stop submitting. Do not stop learning. Do not stop believing that your time will come. But also, do not wait. Build your own tables if no one gives you a seat. Create your own opportunities if no one opens a door. Support each other. Hire each other. Grow together. The queen does not become powerful because someone hands her power. She becomes powerful because she moves. So move.

Botswana is our kingdom. Not theirs. Ours. We have the people. The skills. The ideas. The will. What we do not have is the belief. The trust. The courage to bet on ourselves. That must change. Not tomorrow. Not when the ministry gets a budget. Not when the policy is passed. Not when the foreigner is done. Now.

Let the queen protect the king. But let the queen be one of us.

08/06/2026

The Ghost Mode Manifesto

There are no marches for men. No streets blocked. No placards. No chants echoing through the city centre. No hashtags trending for days. No stages with speakers and audiences and standing ovations.

June is Men's Mental Health Month. And most of the world will not notice.

Not because men do not suffer. Because men suffer in silence.

And that silence is killing us.

Every year, Botswana records approximately 300 su***de cases. 300 men, brothers, fathers, sons who decided that silence was better than speaking.

Of all people living with mental health conditions in Botswana, 52.4% are men. Depression. Anxiety. Substance abuse. Schizophrenia. Men are suffering. And we are not talking about it.

Nearly half of all boys in this country have endured physical violence. 46% of boys compared to 28% of girls. Boys are less likely to seek help. More susceptible to behavioural difficulties. Facing rising risks of social exclusion.

Substance use disorders are rampant. In one study of psychiatric patients in Botswana, over half were male. To***co at 58.4%. Cannabis at 42.6%. Alcohol at 34.7%. Co***ne at 12.8%. Men are numbing themselves because no one taught them how to feel.

And here is the part we do not talk about. Men are filling our prisons. When a man acts out of pain, anger, frustration, hopelessness, he does not just hurt himself. He hurts others. He ends up behind bars. His future gone. His family broken. His children growing up without a father.

The chairperson of the Father and Son Bootcamp recently raised concerns about the disproportionate number of violent crimes committed by men, underscored by the high male population in maximum-security prisons.

Men are not born criminals. Men become criminals when they are ignored. When they are invisible. When no one teaches them another way.

A Member of Parliament said it plainly. If similar programmes aimed at empowering boys had been instituted earlier, many violent crimes could have been prevented.

Here is the truth the world will not tell you. No one is coming to save you. No ministry is going to fund your peace of mind. No government programme is going to heal your childhood wounds. No march in the street is going to make the world care about the weight you carry.

For women, there are shelters. For children, there are hotlines. For animals, there are welfare organisations. For men, there is a quiet expectation. Handle it. Move on. Be strong.

So what do you do? You go ghost. Not disappear from the world. Disappear from the noise. Stop waiting for validation. Stop waiting for applause. Stop waiting for someone to hand you a stage and a microphone. Build your own stage. In your garage. In your workshop. In your small business. In your art. In your craft. In the quiet hours before sunrise when no one is watching. That is where men are made.

There is a story. A master was travelling to a far country. Before he left, he called his servants and gave them talents. To one, he gave 5 talents. To another, 2. To another, 1. Each according to his ability. The one with 5 traded and gained 5 more. The one with 2 gained 2 more. The master called them good and faithful. But the one with 1 talent dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money. He was afraid. He played it safe. He did nothing. When the master returned, he took the talent from the man who did nothing and gave it to the one who had 10.

The lesson is not about money. It is about what you do with what you are given. Men, you have been given talents. Not all the same. Not all equal. But all enough. Enough to trade. Enough to grow. Enough to build something. Do not bury your talent in the ground. Do not hide because you are afraid. Do not wait for someone to dig it up for you. Trade it. Grow it. Use your hands. Use your mind. Use whatever you have. Because the world does not feel sorry for men who wait. The world only celebrates men who build.

There was a time when a man was alone. In a garden. No one else. No audience. No applause. No one to impress or perform for. And God protected him. Not because he was performing. Because he was there. Because he existed. Because he was enough before he did anything.

Men, you are enough before you build anything. You are valuable before you earn anything. You are worthy before anyone validates you. But here is the hard truth. After the garden, things changed. The world became cruel. And the world is cruellest to men who have nothing. Not to men who are trying. Not to men who are struggling. To men who have stopped. To men who buried their talent. To men who are waiting for a handout that will never come.

The world feels pity for women. For children. For animals. Rightly so. They carry burdens that should never be theirs to carry. But the world does not feel pity for a broke man. It judges him. It avoids him. It steps over him. That is not fair. But it is true.

So what do you do? You use your hands. Because your hands can build your future. Or your hands can dig your grave. The choice is yours.

But here is what gives me hope. There are men in Botswana who have decided to be part of the solution. Not waiting for the government. Not waiting for a ministry. Not waiting for a policy.

The Father and Son Bootcamp was established after recognising that violence within societies was claiming the lives of many women. Their primary goal is to mentor young boys and men on managing pressure and resolving issues peacefully, without resorting to violence.

The Men's Conference Botswana meets regularly, bringing together fathers, uncles, young boys, and men from all walks of life to step up as role models and mentors for the boy child, a demographic often overlooked. Their message is simple. We cannot win the war against violence if we ignore the role of fathers and the importance of guiding our boys into responsible manhood. Their mission is to guide the boy child today so that tomorrow's man does not become tomorrow's perpetrator.

The University of Botswana Careers and Counselling Centre held a seminar titled "Growing with purpose: Empowering boys to overcome challenges," creating a safe space for young men to reflect, dialogue, and develop practical solutions to issues affecting their growth, character, and wellbeing.

Men and Boys for Gender Equality representative, Mr Desmond Lunga, advised young male student leaders to show true strength and maturity by respecting girls as equals, to manage anger and emotions, and to be role models by breaking the cycle of violence through solving problems with calmness and respect.

These men are not waiting for applause. They are not waiting for a stage. They are not waiting for a march. They are doing the work. In silence. In communities. In bootcamps. In conferences. In counselling centres. They are teaching young boys the right way. That is what men do.

To every man reading this, I see you. The ones waking up at 4 AM to go to work. The ones sleeping in your cars before your second job. The ones learning new skills at midnight after your children are asleep. The ones welding gates on weekends. The ones fixing cars after hours. The ones building furniture in your backyards. The ones starting small businesses with nothing but hope. You are not invisible. You are not forgotten. You are the backbone of this country.

This month, I am asking you to keep going. Not for applause. For your children. For your parents. For the woman who believes in you. For yourself. You do not need a march. You do not need a stage. You do not need a hashtag. You need to remember who you are. You are the man in the garden. Alone. But protected. Enough before you did anything. Valuable before you earned anything.

Now go. Use your hands. Build your kingdom. Dig no graves. And if you are a father, be present. If you are an uncle, show up. If you are a brother, speak life. If you are a man who has been through the fire, reach back and pull another man out.

Because the world is waiting for you to rise. Not because it will save you. Because you will save yourself. And in saving yourself, you will save us all.

If you are struggling, speak to someone. A friend. A pastor. A counsellor. The silence is not protecting you. It is burying you.

Share this if you know a man who needs to hear it. Share this if you believe men deserve better than silence. Share this if you are ready to build.

05/06/2026

What Does a Woman Bring to the Table?

Let me be honest with you. I am not married. But I have watched. I have listened. I have read. And I have seen what women carry.

Let me tell you what a woman actually brings to the table.

She changes her name. Everything she was known by, everything her parents gave her, she sets it aside.

She leaves her family. The people who raised her, who held her, who were her first home. She leaves them to build a home with you.

She moves in with you. Into your space, your routines, your way of doing things.

She builds a home. Not just a house. A home. With warmth, with food, with care. She creates a place where you want to return.

She gets pregnant for you. Her body changes. She gains weight. She loses sleep. She carries your child for nine months.

She almost gives up in the labour room. The pain is unbearable. Women have died in that room. But she pushes through. For you. For the child.

The children she delivers bear your name. Not hers. Yours.

And after all of that, she cooks. She cleans your house. She takes care of your parents. She brings up your children. She earns money. She advises you. She ensures you can relax. She maintains every family relationship.

Sometimes at the cost of her own health. Her own hobbies. Her own beauty.

So who is really doing whom a favour?

The Numbers That Should Haunt Us
While we are busy arguing about who brings what to the table, women are bleeding.

During the 2025 Easter holidays, gender-based violence accounted for nearly seventy percent of all violent offences recorded in Botswana. Out of ninety-eight cases, sixty-seven were GBV-related. R**e cases went from eighteen to twenty-six. Defilement cases rose from seven to thirteen. Threats to kill increased from four to sixteen.

During the 2025 festive season, r**e cases rose from seventy-two to ninety-seven, a thirty-five percent increase. Defilement surged by fifty percent, from twenty-four to thirty-six. In Chobe district, GBV cases rose from sixty-six to eighty-five in just one year.

And behind these numbers are real women. Real tears. Real pain.

I have read what women cry about online. They cry about being ignored by the men who promised to love them. They cry about raising children alone while the father is absent. They cry about being blamed for their own assault. They cry about their daughters growing up in a world where men hurt women and no one stops it.

One woman shared that after twenty-one years with her partner, she found sexual messages on his phone to another woman. When she confronted him, she was the one who had to move out. She left her three children with him. She is renting a house alone. Twenty-one years. Three children. And she is the one who left.

Another woman posted about sacrificing her schooling, her career, her body, everything for her husband. And commenters asked, "What does she bring to the table?"

What does she bring to the table? She brought everything. And she is still being asked to prove her worth.

Another woman, forty-two years old, posted her pain on Facebook after discovering her fiancé's affair. Now she is the one in court. She is the one facing charges. She is the one losing dignity. The man? Still free. Still unaccountable.

This is what women cry about. And we are not listening.

Men Who Are Standing Up

But here is what gives me hope. Around the world, there are men who have decided to be part of the solution. Not waiting for the government. Not waiting for a ministry. Not waiting for a policy.

In Trinidad and Tobago, there is an organization called Men Against Violence Against Women. MAVAW trains men in communities to sensitize other men on gender issues. Men teaching men. Men changing men.

In Canada, there is MensNet, a network of men working to end sexism, patriarchy, and violence. They also support fathers who want to be responsible, loving parents.

In the United States, there is Men Can Stop R**e. They empower young men to work as allies with women in preventing r**e and other forms of men's violence. Their message is simple. Men can be strong without being violent.

In South Africa, there is Men For Change. They educate men about the negative aspects of gender socialization. They provide counselling and support for men who have been violent and who are prepared to change.

In Kenya, there is Men for Equality with Women. They advise men to stop using institutions like family, school, church, and state to perpetuate male dominance over women.

In Zimbabwe, the Musasa Project brings groups of men together to advocate ending violence against women.

In Cambodia, the Cambodian Men's Network promotes gender equity and lobbies to eliminate violence against women.

In India, there is MAVA, Men against Violence and Abuse, a voluntary organization run by men to initiate male attitude changes and oppose violence against women.

In Fiji, the Fiji Women's Crisis Center initiated a Men's Programme Against Violence Against Women, training male advocates on gender awareness.

These men are not waiting for the government to save women. They are not waiting for a ministry to be created. They are not waiting for a policy to be passed. They are acting. Now.

What are we doing?

No Government Policy Can Replace a Good Man

The government can pass all the laws it wants. It can fund shelters. It can run campaigns. It can create ministries. And it should. The government has a role.

But the government cannot love your wife for you. The government cannot respect your wife for you. The government cannot protect your wife for you. The government cannot be a father to your children. The government cannot be a husband to your wife.

That is your job. Mine. Ours.

No policy will stop a man's hand from raising against his wife. No law will make a man come home on time. No ministry will teach a man to be present, to be gentle, to be faithful.

That work happens in homes. In communities. In the quiet moments when a man decides who he wants to be.

We cannot outsource our responsibility to protect women to the government. We cannot say, "Let the police handle it." We cannot say, "Let the courts decide." We cannot say, "Let the ministry run a campaign."

Because by the time the police arrive, the damage is already done. By the time the court issues a protection order, the tears have already fallen. By the time the ministry launches a campaign, another woman is in the hospital or the morgue.

Protection starts at home. It starts with us. As brothers. As fathers. As friends. As men.

What I Am Asking

I am not asking for perfection. I am not asking for sainthood. I am asking for effort.

Protect the women in your life. Not with grand speeches. With presence. With respect. With action.

If you see a man harassing a woman, say something. Do not look away. Do not walk past. Your silence is permission.

If you hear another man joking about hitting his wife, call it out. Do not laugh. Do not nod. Do not let it slide. Tell him it is not funny.

If you know a woman is being abused, ask her if she is okay. Believe her. Help her. Do not turn away because it is uncomfortable.

If you feel anger rising in yourself, walk away. Seek help. Break the cycle before it breaks someone else.

And if you have daughters, raise them to know their worth. But also raise your sons to respect that worth. Teach your boys that real men do not hit. Real men do not r**e. Real men protect.

To the Men Reading This

We benefit from women's labour. We benefit from women's love. We benefit from women's sacrifice. Every day.

The least we can do is protect them.

Not because they are weak. They are not weak. They are the strongest people I know. Protect them because you love them. Protect them because you need them. Protect them because it is the right thing to do.

And if you cannot protect them, at least do not be the one they need protection from.

To the Women Reading This

We see you. We know what you carry. We know the tears you cry when no one is watching. We know the exhaustion of holding everything together while the world asks you to do more with less.

We are sorry that too many of us have failed you. We are sorry that you have to be afraid. We are sorry that you have to be strong.

We are trying to be better. Some of us are. Not all. But some.

Keep speaking. Keep crying out. Keep demanding. Because your voice is the only thing that moves some of us to act.

And to the men who are already standing up, who are already protecting, who are already loving their women the way they deserve. Thank you. Be louder. Be more. The rest of us need to see you.

A Final Word

The government cannot replace a good man. A ministry cannot love your wife for you. A policy cannot teach your son to respect women.

That work is ours.

The boys who are watching need to see us protect. The girls who are watching need to see us respect. The women who are tired need to see us act.

Not tomorrow. Today.

Class dismissed.

Share this if you are a man who protects. Share this if you are a woman who deserves to be valued. Share this if you believe real men stand up.

03/06/2026

The Men Who Went Silent: Botswana's Looming Population Crisis

I have spent years researching this. Reading every report. Studying every dataset. And what I have found frightens me.

The birth rate is falling. Young men are retreating from relationships. The government is offering P300 per child. But the real reasons are not being addressed.

Let me share what the data reveals. And why this should keep every leader in this country awake at night.

Botswana's fertility rate has been declining for decades. In the late 1980s, it was 5.30 births per woman. Today, it has fallen below the replacement rate of 2.1.

In 2025, the fertility rate was 2.63. In 2026, it is projected to drop further to 2.62.

These are not just numbers. These are unborn children. These are families that will never exist. These are futures that will never arrive.

UNICEF Botswana has been sounding the alarm for years. Nearly half of our boys have experienced physical violence. Boys are falling behind in school. They are less likely to seek help for mental health challenges. They are more susceptible to behavioural difficulties and social exclusion.

I have read every report. I have studied every dataset.

The work has been done. The question is whether anyone is paying attention.

I have always been interested in Botswana's education system. The more I looked, the more holes I saw.

The 2024 Education Compass survey delivered a devastating verdict. Only 11 percent of Standard 4 students met grade-level expectations in numeracy. Nine out of ten students are performing below grade level.

And who is falling furthest behind? Boys.

The most disadvantaged group is boys in North West in the lowest wealth bracket. Among these boys, 37 percent cannot even add yet. For girls in North East in the highest wealth bracket, that figure is just 7 percent.

A 30 percentage point gap.

Let that sink in. A boy from North West is five times more likely to be unable to add than a girl from North East.

What chance does that boy have? What future is waiting for him?

He will drop out. He will lose hope. He will turn to substances. He will become angry. He will retreat from society.

And he will never become the man who builds a home, raises children, or contributes to the next generation.

This is not speculation. This is a chain. And every link is breaking.

While we are watching the fertility rate fall, another crisis is unfolding silently in our homes.

Divorce rates are rising. Marriage rates are collapsing. And too many couples are separating without ever stepping foot in a courtroom.

The numbers are heartbreaking.

Between 2021 and 2024, registered marriages in Botswana dropped by 41 percent. From 7,631 unions in 2021 to just 4,517 in 2024. The crude marriage rate has fallen sharply from 3.0 to 1.8 marriages per 1,000 people in just three years.

A 41 percent decline in just three years.

Think about that. Nearly half of the marriages that should have happened, did not happen.

Approximately 2,000 divorce cases are currently pending in Botswana's High Court. But that is only the tip of the iceberg. Many separations never make it to court. Couples split quietly, without legal proceedings. The real number of broken marriages is likely much higher, possibly double or triple what official statistics show.

Human rights advocate Margaret Mosojane recently painted a grim picture, citing rising rates of divorce as a significant concern that disproportionately affects women, leaving them financially and emotionally vulnerable.

Statistics Botswana's own data confirms that divorce affects more females than males. More men are opting for cohabitation instead of marriage. And the years spent single have been increasing over time.

What does this have to do with the men who went silent?

Everything.

A man who feels invisible, who has been told he is the problem, who has watched his peers lose everything in divorce court, who cannot find stable work or a sense of purpose. That man is not going to propose marriage. He is not going to start a family. He is going to retreat further into silence.

And a woman who cannot find a partner who is her equal, who has been told men are threats, who has watched her friends suffer through painful divorces. That woman is not going to trust easily. She is not going to say yes to a proposal.

The marriage rate keeps falling. The divorce rate keeps rising. And the birth rate follows both down.

We are not just failing to have children. We are failing to form families. And families are the foundation of any society.

Statistics Botswana itself warned that these developments threaten the existence of the family unit, which is the core of any society.

The government can offer P300 per child. It can roll out newborn allowances. It can launch infant support grants.

But P300 does not fix a broken marriage. A newborn allowance does not help a man feel worthy of marriage. A child grant does not teach men and women how to build families together.

We are addressing the symptoms again. The disease remains untreated.

Starting April 1, 2026, the government will roll out a monthly support grant of P300 for all Batswana children under the age of one.

I understand the intention. Every child deserves a strong start. Every parent deserves support.

But here is the question I keep asking myself.

What is the point of giving P300 per child if young people are not having children in the first place?

What is the point of a newborn allowance if men and women are not coming together to create families?

The government is addressing the symptom. The disease is much deeper.

The disease is a generation of young men who feel invisible. Unwanted. Left behind.

The disease is a generation of young women who cannot find partners who are their equals.

The disease is a society that has pitted men and women against each other instead of teaching them to build together.

P300 does not cure that disease.

I have watched something happen over the past few years. Something quiet. Something that does not make headlines.

Men are retreating.
Not in anger. Not in protest. Just silently disappearing from the spaces where life happens. From relationships. From fatherhood. From the hope of building families.

I have seen the comments. The bitterness. The division.

Men are useless. Women cannot be trusted. Marriage is a trap. Why would I commit when I will lose everything?

Social media has become a battlefield. Men and women speak about each other as if they are enemies. As if they are in competition.

And here is the tragedy.
The very platforms that connect us are driving us apart.
Every day, young people scroll through videos and posts telling them that the opposite gender is dangerous. That relationships are transactional. That love is a losing game.
And slowly, silently, they are believing it.
Men stop approaching. Women stop trusting. The birth rate keeps falling.
I have documented this. I have written about it.
The work is there. For anyone who cares to look.

I have thought about this question for a long time.
A boy who cannot read will not stay in school.
A boy who drops out of school will not find stable work.
A boy who cannot find work will not feel ready for marriage or fatherhood.
A boy who does not become a father will not have children.
And a boy who has no children contributes nothing to the next generation.

This is not complicated. It is a chain. And every link is breaking.
The World Bank confirmed what many of us suspected. Women now account for 57 percent of university graduates. Young women are outperforming young men at every level of education.
Educated women are struggling to find educated men who are their equals.
And educated men, outnumbered and outperformed, feel inadequate. Threatened. Emasculated.

So what happens?
Women post on social media about how men are not on their level.
Men retreat into bitterness, blaming women for their struggles.
And no one is building anything together.

We have created a society where men and women are pitted against each other. Where achievement is a competition instead of a partnership. Where the success of one gender is seen as the failure of the other.

And the children? The families? The future?
Collateral damage.

The falling birth rate is not just a demographic trend. It is a warning.
It is telling us that something is broken in how we raise our boys.
It is telling us that something is broken in how we educate our children.
It is telling us that something is broken in how men and women relate to each other.

And if we do not fix it, the consequences will be severe.

An aging population with fewer young people to support it.
A shrinking workforce.
A loss of our cultural continuity.

Botswana will grow old before it grows wealthy.

The government cannot afford to ignore this. No ministry can afford to ignore this.

Around the world, countries that ignored these warning signs are now suffering irreversible decline.

Japan has been losing population for over a decade. Its fertility rate is approximately 1.3. The country has lost over 3 million people in ten years. Elderly citizens outnumber children. Funeral homes are thriving. Maternity wards are closing.

South Korea has the lowest fertility rate in the world at approximately 0.8. The government has spent billions on incentives. Nothing has worked. The window has closed.

Lithuania has seen its population fall from 3.7 million in 1990 to 2.9 million today. Deaths nearly double births. Schools are empty. Villages are abandoned.

China's population shrank for the first time in over six decades in 2023. The one-child policy was reversed too late. The damage was already done.

Botswana still has time. But the window is closing.

I know that the solutions exist. I know that the data is clear. I know that other countries have faced this crisis and turned it around.
I am not here to attack anyone. I am here to help.
I am not here to demand credit. I am here to contribute.
I am not here to complain about the past. I am here to build the future.

The boys who are falling behind cannot wait for budget cycles.
The men who are retreating into silence cannot wait for political will.
The families that are not being formed cannot wait for the perfect policy.

Every day we delay, another boy drops out of school.
Every day we delay, another man retreats from society.
Every day we delay, another potential child is never born.

First Lady Kaone Boko launched her Mpepu programme. Mpepu means the cradle, the gentle embrace that holds a child before they learn to stand.

The First Lady understands something that many have forgotten. A mother's love protects all children. Girls and boys.

The Mpepu programme is a start. But it must be expanded. It must include boys and young men explicitly. It must address the crisis of male disengagement before it is too late.

The people who need to hear this are already watching. They know who they are. The question is whether they will finally act.

You have the data. You have the reports. You have the solutions sitting on desks, collecting dust.

In March 2026, the Minister of Youth and Gender Affairs, Hon. Lesego Chombo, told Parliament that the ministry had observed an imbalance in programming between women and men. She announced that the men's sector had been incorporated into the ministry's mandate.

But she was honest about the reality. She admitted that this shift lacks dedicated personnel or budget in the current financial year. Provisions will only be made in the upcoming year.

The men's sector exists on paper only. While boys are falling behind, the ministry responsible for them has no budget to help. Next year, maybe.

The boys cannot wait for next year's budget. The men cannot wait for next year's staffing. The families that are not being formed cannot wait for the perfect policy.

Act now. Or explain to the next generation why you did not.

I have done the work. I have read the reports. I have studied the data.
I am not asking for a job. I am not asking for money. I am not asking for credit.
I am asking for action.

Because the boys who are falling behind cannot wait.
The men who are retreating into silence cannot wait.
The families that are not being formed cannot wait.
Botswana cannot wait.
The work is on record. The solutions are ready. The only thing missing is the will to act.
Are you ready?

Share this post if you believe our boys deserve better. Share this post if you want to save our families. Share this post if you love Botswana.

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