04 Dec 2025

As the holiday season reaches its peak, picture the A1 Road. The heat shimmering above the tar. Engines humming through sun-drenched scrubland.
A burst of brake lights after a near-miss. And that shared, uneasy breath we all take when a risky overtake ends — this time — without tragedy. This is the scene of our annual pilgrimage home: a restless national migration powered by longing, memory and the simple desire to be with family again. Under the weight of summer heat and brewing rain, Botswana stirs.
The air begins to hum with anticipation as the A1 — our country’s main artery — fills with movement, conversation, and the familiar chaos of the festive rush. Stretching from Gaborone to the Ramokgwebana border, the A1 is more than a road; it is a thread stitching communities together.
And when December arrives, thousands pour onto it with one mission: get home. From the bus ranks to the petrol stations at the city’s edge, the starting point vibrates with energy. Car boots bulge with luggage.
Grocery bags overflow with festive treats. Children press their faces to the glass, scanning the horizon for the turn-off that leads to grandma’s yard, to cousins, to laughter. This is the A1 rush — a season when distance collapses and the nation beats with one reunited heart. Yet the same long, straight stretches that make the A1 iconic also make it dangerous.
The monotony can lull even the most seasoned drivers. Which is why rest points — those familiar stops in Mahalapye, Palapye and beyond — become critical lifelines this time of year.
These stops are not just for fuel. They are for revival. Every festive season, the Motor Vehicle Accident (MVA) Fund sets up temporary rest stations offering water, coffee, reflective wristbands and gentle reminders to stretch and stay alert. Police use the same spaces for checkpoints, but they are also small sanctuaries — places where the nation collectively exhales before pushing on.
These intentional pauses are not formalities; they are lifesaving. Fatigue remains one of the most stubborn drivers of holiday accidents. For long-distance regulars like Ms Taboka Ngwako, who travels between Gaborone and Francistown, the A1 festive rush is equal parts beauty and brutality.
“It’s always the first two hours out of Gaborone that are the worst,” she says, leaning on her faithful sedan before a recent December drive.
“You see the impatience straight away. Speed becomes king. The two-lane road turns into an arena.” She describes the old choreography of small cars darting from behind heavy haulage trucks, attempting to overtake on blind ascents.
“It’s terrifying,” she says. “You see a truck crawling uphill, its trailer swaying slightly, creating what looks like the perfect gap. And then a small sedan, maybe carrying a whole family, shoots out — not noticing oncoming traffic. Lights flash, tyres screech, and the whole world seems to pause.” Sometimes, she says, luck intervenes.
“By miracle brake or sheer chance, the overtaking car squeezes back in, just inches from the truck’s bumper. Your heart races — but it’s a cheap thrill. Because a few kilometres ahead you might find wreckage where someone else’s luck ran out.” At rest stops, however, she finds comfort: strangers in SUVs, combis and weathered sedans trading weary smiles, small talk and warnings about the road ahead. “That’s when you realise we’re all just trying to get home,” she says softly.
But statistics remain unforgiving. December consistently records some of Botswana’s highest road fatalities. Speed limits are ignored. Reckless overtaking around 18-wheelers turns the highway into a stage of near disasters.
Police and safety officers mount campaigns and checkpoints each year, yet fatigue — and worse, intoxicated driving — continue to claim lives. Rollovers, head-on collisions, loss of control — these are not abstractions.
They are patterns. They are names in reports. They are families left incomplete. Even beyond the holidays, the A1 demands respect. Botswana relies heavily on this corridor for work, trade and travel.
The cost of high-speed modern mobility is evident in the rising toll of lives lost. The pressure to save time — to push harder, gain a few minutes, beat the rush — creates a silent tension between the speed we covet and the danger it brings. Yet the A1 remains a symbol. A ribbon tying today’s Botswana to the generations that travelled it before seatbelts and hazard lights.
Each December, it carries our hopes, even as it whispers caution. Because the truth is simple: It is a two-way street.
One lane carries joyful expectation. The other carries avoidable peril.
So whether you are behind the wheel, a passenger in the back seat, or waiting at home preparing the welcome feast, remember: safety will always matter more than speed. Exercise patience.
Respect the limits. Obey the signs. And let the exhilarating rush of homecoming be the only rush you entertain. Drive safely. Every journey is a journey for the nation. Wishing you a safe and joyful festive season. ENDS