08/09/2025
๐ช๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐๐ ๐จ๐ป๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ถ๐๐บ ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฆ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฅ๐ผ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐บ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฒ
When I walked into his office, the smell of papa and meat filled the air. He was mid-bite. He looked up, visibly uneasy. I must have caught him off guard, or perhaps he was expecting someone else.
He welcomed me and after offering me a chair, he asked with a half-smile, โShould I offer you a takeaway?โ It was clear he felt uncomfortable eating while I sat there watching. Yet the offer said something about him a man who never forgot what it meant to come from little.
You have probably seen him in a black robe at the front of the courtroom, standing apart from other union leaders who sit quietly at the back. His name is Robert Rabasimane, Deputy Chief Executive Officer of the National Amalgamated Local, Central Government and Parastatal Workers Union better known as the Manual Workers Union.
The robe hanging on his wall caught my attention. I deflected his offer of food with a question. โTell me, how did you end up in that chair? And why do I always see you at the front in court while your colleagues sit at the back with us? Where did law meet unionism?โ
He slid the plate aside and leaned forward. The questions had struck a chord.
โYou know,โ he began, his voice carrying both weight and warmth, โmost people think Iโm new to unions. But my days go way back to 2003, when I was brought in by one man Pelotshweu Baeng, who was president of BLLAHWU at the time.โ
But before diving into that chapter, he took me further back. โI come from humble beginnings,โ he said softly. โBeing poor made me want to be a lawyer. I saw how many people were taken advantage of simply because they had nothing and I wanted to fight for them.โ
During his Tirelo Sechaba service, a voice of discouragement almost pushed him off that dream. โI was advised to pursue social work,โ he recalled. โSo I did a diploma in social work at UB. But that fire for law never left me.โ
At work, he quickly became known as the vocal one bold, unafraid to challenge unfairness. โBaeng noticed it,โ he chuckled. โWe were in a meeting as workers. I think he saw how outspoken I was on workersโ rights. After the meeting, he pulled me aside and said, โWe need people like you in unions.โ I was reluctant, but he convinced me. That was the beginning of my union days.โ
Still, his time at BLLAHWU was short-lived. He shook his head at the memory. โI never agreed with their strike-first approach. Striking just for the sake of it? No. Thatโs not me. Iโve always believed in dialogue. Thatโs why I moved to the Manual Workers Union. Their way made sense especially since I had already studied HR and understood what it meant to truly take care of workers.โ
Even while growing in the labour movement, he never stopped schooling himself. Law diplomas in Zimbabwe, HR in South Africa, and eventually his law degree with UNISA. Meanwhile, his career moved in step, welfare officer, HR at councils, manager at Botswana Railways, Council Secretary in Goodhope and later Lobatse.
It was during his transfer to the Ministry of Local Government headquarters that a new path opened. His eyes gleamed as he recalled it. โunion leaders, approached me. They asked me to come in as Executive Secretary of the Manual Workers Union. I didnโt hesitate. I knew this was where my skills belonged.โ
When I asked about his proudest achievement, I expected him to list career milestones. But his face lit up in another way. โYou know,โ he said, breaking into a smile, โmy greatest achievement is that Iโve been happily married for 22 years, keeping my family together. And this year, my daughter will graduating at UB, and sheโll be wearing my gown.โ
Still, his eyes sharpened again as we wrapped up. โThereโs more to do,โ he said firmly. โBotswana workers are still struggling. My role isnโt finished not until every worker feels protected, respected, and heard.โ
