Our youngest future leaders—some barely old enough to reach the clutch pedal—are being whisked across the unforgiving terrain of Kgalagadi North not in shiny school buses, but in honest-to-goodness trucks. Yes, trucks—those rugged symbols of grit, gravel, and government goodwill.
This finding came courtesy of Kgosi Paledi, who dared ask the question plaguing many in WhatsApp groups: Why are 7-year-old pupils hitching a ride to Hunhukwe Primary School in vehicles more suited for livestock than learning?
In a response filled with assurances, advanced stages, and deep concern, Minister of Local Government and Traditional Affairs, Ketlhalefile Motshegwa, explained that yes, technically children are being hauled in trucks—but not to worry, they switch to actual buses eventually. It’s all part of the innovative “Truck-Then-Bus” hybrid model, brought to you by impassable roads, budget constraints, and a pinch of desert sand.
“The Government remains committed to the safety and dignity of every learner,” Motshegwa solemnly said, as if dignity was best served in the flatbed of a Toyota Dyna. “We are in an advanced stage of procuring a truck-bus hybrid,” he said, invoking the mythical creature of civil service promises—the unicorn of public transport—the truck-bus.
This specially designed truck-bus is expected to marry the brute force of a sand-blasting lorry with the plush interior of a school bus. Think: safari truck meets classroom van. Parents in Ncaang and Ngwatle are already dreaming of a future where their kids can bounce to school with both shock absorbers and seats.
In a bold demonstration of seriousness, the Hukuntsi District Council is said to be “actively addressing” the issue, which in government-speak translates roughly to “we Googled it and requested a quotation last June.”
Meanwhile, pupils—some as young as six—are developing Olympic-level core strength by standing upright for 45-minute truck rides over cratered roads that have not seen a grader since Mma Ramotswe solved her first case.
If it’s any consolation, the children are at least gaining valuable survival skills, including balancing while moving, sandstorm negotiation, and emergency dismounts.
If the children lived in Gaborone, this would be front-page news, and a live panel on BTV. But because it’s “just Hunhukwe,” the solution remains: truck now, dignity later.
While the children wait breathlessly for the truck-bus—due to arrive any time between now and the Second Coming of Jesus—they will continue their daily migration across the desert plains, brave, barefoot, and bouncing in the back of the Ministry’s latest innovation in educational access.
