Upon arriving at the Broadhurst Magistrates’ Court, I was met by a number of staunch Botswana Democratic Party supporters dressed in “Mpho Ya Rona” shirts. Through their silent yet echoed murmuring, they seemed to communicate to the walls that listened that long voyages across the dry, semi-arid Botswana landscape had been made to support one man. One man who, in their eyes, could be the…