The first is a legend told by the Botswana Defence Force (BDF) recruits. Their Panda sounded like a great adventure. We used to listen in equal measure of disgust and admiration to the gory and funny stories told by the fresh-out-of-war-school privates of how they were moulded into warriors. They told stories of rigorous exercises under the strict commands of merciless trainers. They even made us fear Panda.
The arduous BDF training that our uncles used to rave about when they returned to their home villages after surviving army training was our first memory of Panda.
Then when I got to finally travel the country, I met the other Panda – the vast commercial farms. In the middle of nowhere along the A33 Road, suddenly appears the Pandamatenga farms. The road cuts through the vast farms stretching wide on either side of the road as far back as the eye can see. And coming from the tradition of small subsistence farming, the farms' sheer sizes are just a marvel to watch. Each farm is about 500 hectares, and the commercial farmers make sure that they plough the entire stretch of the farm.
Then last week I got to be introduced to another Panda. The village of Pandamatenga is located in the small gravel around the black cotton soil next to a river that forms part of the headwaters of the mighty Zambezi. Most travellers along the A33 Road just pass through the village without any stopover because from the road the area looks uninspiring. Apart from the big Botswana Agricultural Marketing Board silos by the roadside Panda appears like small farm shelters without much soul.
Although historically the location was a popular stopover for travellers heading into the far north and those retreating into the desert, Panda is now just a shadow of its former self. The area is the meeting point of two historic routes, being the Cattle traders Route from the Kalahari through the Makgadikgadi as well as the old Hunters’ road from Francistown along the Botswana – Zimbabwe border.
Going through the village, one can notice the modern straight-line streets usually found in urban areas and modern townships. Throughout the well-aligned plots, there are plenty of makeshift houses covered in black or white plastic. I gather that these are mostly shelters of migrant labourers that usually visit Pandamatenga farms during harvest season.
Even though Panda farms use large-scale industrious machines to harvest, there are some leftovers that only manual human labour could harvest. This service, called 'commission' in the village, attracts lots of migrant labourers who come to work in farms and temporarily stay in the plastic shelters.
At night the seemingly quiet and modest Panda transforms into a party scene as manual labourers, contractors, and travelling truck drivers meet up at a bar called Panda Crusher for some good time. Even though there are other bars around the village, like Lethaka, Dhuno and Leratong, Panda Crusher, adjacent to Rainbow Bar is the most famous drinking hole and legendary in the village.
The locals take over the dusty dance space in front of the bar while the truck drivers are always seated and quietly watch everyone having a good time. The local women are the friendliest and gladly welcome visitors probably due to the daily new faces of truck drivers that make Panda their pitstop. The conversations are multilingual comprising Setswana, Lozi, Ndebele, Sesarwa and English. Area councillor Tengenyane Tuelo, tells us that there are mainly three tribes found in Panda, being predominantly Basarwa, Banajwa, and Batebele.
When the bars close, it is time to continue the party at the BDF Mess.
The unruly lot who are banned from entering BDF barracks proceed to the ‘club’ at Leratong Bar. Only locals with Omang are allowed inside the BDF barracks.
Entering the Panda Barracks after so many years of hearing amazing legends of recruits is a surreal feeling. Quite sobering. Although the Mess hall is located at the officers’ residence in the East wing of the barracks, away from the recruits side, one gets the feeling that they could easily be ‘treated’ like recruits.
Inside the Mess, it is easy to tell who is who, between villagers and soldiers. And when it is time to leave the Mess hall, recruits on their side of the camp can be seen busy working at ungodly hours.
