21 May 2026

When approaching Dr Patrick Aust’s farm, what is noticeable is a network of burrows and mophane trees on his 1.5-hectare plot on the outskirts of Francistown.

What is buried underneath the burrows, is a treasure for Dr  Aust who has since launched Botswana’s first monitor lizard farm. The project is now in its second year as a research initiative.

“They are down there,” Dr Aust says, gesturing to a network of burrows that have housed the Varanus albigularis, white-throated monitor lizards, known locally as Kgwathe. “They can go months without food or water and come out stronger, ” he says as he walks BOPA reporter through his farm.

Dr Aust, a herpetologist and reptile scientist who spent years in Asia studying reptiles, believes Kgwathe offers a way forward. Unlike cattle that graze on flat, heat-exposed plains, Kgwathe uses what he calls a “three-dimensional” environment.

Already with the 2026 Food and Agriculture Organisation and World Meteorological Organisation (FAO–WMO) joint report titled: Extreme Heat and Agriculture, warning that rising temperatures and prolonged droughts are making cattle and chickens “increasingly vulnerable” across Southern Africa, Dr Aust’s timing is not a coincidence. 

“Kgwathe is adapted to survive months without food or water,” Dr Aust explains. “Efficient water retention and an adaptive metabolic rate means farmers can buffer against feed scarcity, which is increasingly common under drought conditions.”

Usually, Kgwathe excavate burrows metres underground to escape extreme surface temperatures and conserve moisture. They also climb trees, allowing farms to integrate production into multi-layered agroforestry systems instead of clearing more land.

Even though not immune to all diseases, Kgwathe exhibits strong natural resistance to specific environmental toxins. This is a plus for Dr Aust who explains that their ectothermic metabolism and distinct immune systems create a natural barrier against most warm-blooded pathogens. For farmers, that translates to fewer costs.

For many rural Batswana, Kgwathe is not uncommon. For some, it is a delicacy that serves as an alternative protein source. “We are not introducing something foreign,” Dr Aust says.

“We are formalising something traditional, and making it safe, traceable, and scalable.”

That cultural familiarity matters, he argues. “In the wake of FMD, consumers are wary. A locally accepted, disease-free protein could fill the gap without fighting consumer taboos.”

Dr Aust sees Kgwathe as more than a stopgap. As Director of the African Institute of Applied Herpetology, he argues that the future of farming in Botswana lies in climate-resilient practices and heat-tolerant species. 

“By integrating Kgwathe into agricultural systems, farmers can reduce vulnerability, conserve resources, and diversify livelihoods.”

He envisions village-level plots where lizards live under fruit trees, control pests, and provide meat, a low-input system suited to Botswana’s water reality.

Dr Aust adds that the business has strong returns, since monitor lizard meat is consumed widely in Asia, skins are sold for leather goods in Europe, and fat used in pharmaceuticals and cosmetics for its antibacterial properties.

The model, he says, is designed to empower local communities.

“When we go into full commercialisation, the main objective is to empower the local communities.”

Under the plan, Dr Aust would supply Kgwathe to communities, who would then sell meat and skin back to him for export.

But scaling depends on regulation. “This can only happen when there is a slaughter or abattoir facility, such as the Botswana Meat Commission (BMC), with regulations in place,” he noted.

The facility would employ 20–30 people to manage breeding stock and feed.

“The idea is to empower the local community for self-employment,” he said.

Dr Aust, also a conservation scientist with People for Wildlife, stresses the efficiency of reptiles.

“As a highly specialised group, they require 90 per cent less food and calorie inputs, cope with extreme conditions better than most warm-blooded animals, and do not transmit dangerous diseases like FMD.”

Globally, he noted, reptile production has long been excluded from agricultural industrialisation and the globalisation of Western food systems.

“Now, rising costs and environmental threats are calling for a seismic shift,” he said, adding that more than 40 per cent of reptiles, snakes, lizards, turtles, and crocodiles, are now farmed for meat, skins, and pharmaceuticals.

Biologically, the case is strong. A monitor lizard can live 20–30 years, reaches maturity in two to three years, lays up to 40 eggs annually, and grows to market size in about eight years.

“That outpaces many traditional livestock bred for meat in Botswana,” said Dr Aust.

Skeptics remain. Commercial reptile farming is uncharted territory in Botswana’s regulations, and scaling will require clear guidelines on welfare, slaughter, and food safety.

Dr Aust acknowledges the gap, “We are working with authorities to get it right. The goal is safe, ethical, and legal production.”

For now, his farm is quiet. No lowing, no clucking. Just the occasional rustle as a Kgwathe slips into shade. It is not the farm Botswana imagined.

 “They are built for this climate. Botswana is built for them,” Dr Aust disclosed.

The big question now remains, “Are reptiles an overlooked treasure with economic potential to change livelihoods? ENDS