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At last, Tuesday 9 October 1956 arrived – the day that had been scheduled for Seretse's departure. Well-wishers came with Ruth and the children to the airport to see him off, including Clement Freud, John Hatch and Muriel.
¹
‘Then with a last hug for the children and myself,' recorded Ruth, ‘he followed the air hostess out to the plane.'
²
Seretse was smiling broadly. But he looked tired and older than his 33 years: the years of banishment and worry had taken their toll.
³

Seretse was leaving first, to be followed by Ruth and the children three weeks later. Ruth explained to the
Daily Mail
why they had made this decision:

Well, it is simply this: Seretse's return to Serowe will be HIS day. I want him to have it all to himself.

Much as I would have liked to be at his side for that great moment I feel that it belongs to him and him alone.

Seretse is bursting to be off now, and, husband-like, has little interest in the minor details of packing up, selling off, and so forth. But I don't blame him.

‘If you had been exiled for six years from your homeland, through no fault of your own,' she asked the reporter, ‘wouldn't you like to get back at the earliest possible moment?' Then she added,

I have been so proud of Seretse throughout his exile. Not once has he had the ‘grumps' or taken it out on me for his misfortune. I wonder how many men would have behaved with equal consideration of his wife's feelings?
⁴

The flying-boat service had been replaced by land planes in late 1950, just a couple of months after the Khamas had journeyed into exile. Now, Seretse flew to Salisbury in a propeller aeroplane, stopping
to refuel at Rome, Cairo, Khartoum and Nairobi. At about 2.00 p.m. next day – after seventeen hours of travel – he reached Salisbury. Here he transferred to a tiny charter aircraft which took him to Francistown shortly before dusk.

Seretse's face lit up with joy as he stepped onto the tarmac, where he was greeted by Rasebolai and Tshekedi, as well as Fraenkel and the British officials of the region. When he saw his sisters Oratile and Naledi, he rushed forward to kiss and hug them. He was then welcomed home by headmen and local leaders, one by one; for each of them, he had a handshake and a few words.
⁵
Outside the aerodrome, more than 3,000 men, women and children were cheering and waiting to greet him; many of them were from the Bangwato Reserve and had travelled the long journey to Francistown in lorries and by train. Seretse wanted to speak to them, but they were so excited – and there was so much noise – that he had to abandon the plan. At one point the Police Commander was afraid the crowd was going out of control and ordered rifles to be handed out to his men.

But the crowd broke up when Seretse was driven away from the airport.
⁶
As the car passed out of the aerodrome, reported the
Bula-wayo Chronicle
, people jammed the entrance, so that it was impossible for the car to get through for ten minutes:

Men threw their hats into the air, and while some women flung themselves to the ground, others kissed the car's bonnet.

Those who could not get near stood on lorries to get glimpses of Seretse, or screamed and jumped on car bonnets and roofs.

Eventually, Seretse's car had to be forced through the crowd.

Men and women scrambled into lorries and followed.
⁷

When they arrived at the Divisional Office in the town, at least 2,000 people were waiting under a fluttering Union Jack and broke into a rousing hymn. Seretse spoke briefly to them, but was inaudible in the noise; he raised his arms and appealed for quiet, and an official banged on the side of a police truck. But nothing helped: the throng was too excited. After twenty minutes, Seretse gave up the attempt to speak. Then he went on to Oratile's house in the location and the people melted away into the darkness of the evening. He was planning to drive the 150 miles to Serowe the following day.
⁸

Next day, the fleet of lorries that had brought the Bangwato to Francistown took them back in the early hours, to wait for Seretse outside Serowe and to escort him into the village.
⁹
It had seemed a good idea for Seretse to arrive in Serowe just before dark, as a way of diminishing the excitement. ‘The great welcome given to Seretse,' reported the Johannesburg
Star
, ‘was more than was expected, even though the former Chief has virtually leaned over backwards to discourage demonstrations.'
¹⁰
But all day, people had waited in little groups, eager to catch a glimpse of him. The elders waited patiently under the kgotla tree, the children were shrieking, and the women, with every false alarm, began trilling their welcome. For the last five miles of the journey, the road was lined with cheering, happy crowds. When, in the gathering sunset, Seretse finally arrived, with Tshekedi, Rasebolai and James Allison, the District Commissioner, they leapt to their feet with a delighted ‘
Pula! Pula!
'

Seretse went on to Rasebolai's house in the centre of the village, where the welcome, reported the
Sunday Times
, ‘was fantastic. The crowd surged and swayed, then swarmed around Seretse, stretching out their hands to touch him, pat him, caress him. It was sheer joy, almost untouched by political feeling.'
¹¹
Seretse went to the Kgotla, where 2,000 people had collected – but neither he nor the District Commissioner could be heard above the applause. The welcome he was given at Serowe exceeded even the reception in Francistown on the previous evening. Eventually Rasebolai took Seretse back to his house and Allison addressed the crowd from the veranda. Then everyone dispersed, in the best of spirits.
¹²

Ever since
Life
's photographer, Margaret Bourke-White, had come to Serowe in 1950, the magazine had taken a keen interest in the story of Seretse and Ruth's exile. They sent a correspondent to cover the happy ending – Seretse's return. The fact that Seretse was returning as a private citizen, not as Kgosi, he reported, was a fine distinction that seemed to be lost on the Bangwato. He was greeted with the traditional cries of welcome – ‘
Pula, Pula
' – and then, added
Life
, ‘before their eyes it rained'. It was not even just a drizzle, but a heavy storm. When Seretse reached the tribal offices, recorded a local official,‘thunder and lightning rent the air and the rain came down in torrents'.
¹³
The
Bulawayo Chronicle
reported that

The first crash of thunder split the air. Flashes of lightning followed each other and clouds erupted over the Bamangwato Reserve.

‘Seretse's home and it's raining,' screamed the mob. ‘Seretse has brought the pula.'
¹⁴

Seretse still had to make a public statement about his renunciation of the kingship. On 12 October, he, Rasebolai and Tshekedi conferred with Allison and they agreed that although plans had been made for a Kgotla in three days' time, it should be delayed until Thursday 18 October, to allow time for the excitement to subside – ‘with special reference', wrote the Resident Commissioner anxiously to London, ‘to the large numbers of women who were already a problem in Serowe'. The delay would also give Seretse an opportunity for informal conversation with the people of Serowe, to prepare them for the Kgotla. Moreover, said Wray,

Seretse's general behaviour and attitude towards Government officers has been exemplary… I am now much more hopeful that the outcome of the Kgotla and subsequent tour will be completely successful than I was before it was possible to gauge his reactions to a tumultuous welcome by his own people. So far he has been extremely level-headed and helpful.

Wray reported on the security measures that had been put in place to cope with any sudden and unexpected outbreak of violence at Serowe, such as ‘anti-European riots'. It had been arranged with the Witwatersrand Native Labour Association, the agency which sent Bangwato men to the mines in South Africa, that an aeroplane would be standing by at Francistown. If there was a sudden emergency, extra security forces could be flown immediately to the Serowe airstrip.
¹⁵

Thanksgiving services were held at the London Missionary Society Church in the centre of Serowe. Seretse attended one of these services and made a speech to the congregation, expressing his joy at returning home again. The light streamed through the arcs of the church windows into the dark, cool interior, lighting up the figure of the man whom everyone had been waiting for.
¹⁶

The day came for the Kgotla in Serowe, at which Seretse would publicly renounce the kingship and explain his reasons. There was a vast assembly: 5,000–6,000 people, including women. Despite the
October heat, many of the men were wrapped in their old army greatcoats. In front of them sat Seretse, Tshekedi and Rasebolai, with Seretse in the middle; all three men wore dark suits, reflecting the solemnity of the occasion.
¹⁷
Prayers were said and then, just after nine o'clock, Rasebolai opened the Kgotla. He ordered a large number of women to go to the back, and they obeyed. Keaboka was the first to speak. He described his immense pleasure at seeing Seretse, Tshekedi and Rasebolai together and said that he and others looked to ‘the big three' to guide them.
¹⁸
It was Keaboka's full, public support right from the start, believed Allison, that assured the success of the Kgotla.
¹⁹

A deep silence fell when Seretse rose to speak. He said that he was giving up the kingship for the sake of tribal unity. ‘If I can cooperate with my elders,' he told the assembly, ‘so can you, who are their juniors.'
²⁰
He reminded them that the idea of his living in the Reserve as a private citizen was not new – it had been raised in 1950 and when the delegation had gone to the UK in 1952, they had proposed this to the Government on behalf of the people. He would assist Rasebolai with his tribal duties. Kingship was over: it would be replaced by Councils, under Rasebolai as Chairman. Either he or Tshekedi, or both of them, would probably be elected. This would be a new form of Government, he explained, which would allow the Bangwato, for the first time in their history, to take part. Rule by one man would now be over. In the past, people had complained of unfairness and oppression, but a Council would end this. It would allow everyone in the Reserve to take part – to know what was happening, to correct wrongs and to contribute to the common good. ‘You should not be worried,' he assured his listeners, ‘for such a system means you will be able to take part.' He would not have renounced the kingship, he assured them, ‘if it was not the greatest step towards advancement of the tribe'.
²¹

He had heard that when he stopped speaking he was to be invested with a lion skin and declared Kgosi – but, he said, he did not have two tongues like a snake.
²²
Seretse spoke ‘firmly, resolutely and convincingly', reported Allison, returning at frequent intervals to his main theme – peace, progress, welfare and unity, and the absolute necessity of setting aside the old divisions and hatreds.
²³
He emphasized that political development in the Bangwato Reserve was to be
on modern lines. He finished his speech to the sound of three long, deep
pulas
.

Then Tshekedi spoke, underlining his support for the Council. He traced the history of the Bechuanaland Protectorate under the protection of the British Crown, which had been accepted by the diKgosi. There was no need to worry about not having a Kgosi, he said, because many countries did not. In any case, he said,

Seretse is still the son of our Chief. We still give him the respect due to a Chief and we will always in our hearts regard him as Chief, but now Rasebolai is the head of the Tribe and Seretse will help him. In this way he is not lost and his advice and help will always be available to us.
²⁴

He reassured the Bangwato that Seretse would rule them with Rasebolai, through the Council. He spoke with great force, almost as if the Council had already been set up. He added that after his four years' absence from the Kgotla, he would now be dealing with tribal affairs.
²⁵

The last ‘nail in the coffin of any possible non-acceptance', reported Allison, was driven home by Oabona Nthobatsang, who was a powerful orator and had been a leading supporter of Seretse. He said that he had little to say except to offer his thanks. He was grateful to God that the sons of Khama were now together and he prayed they might be as united as their diKgosi. And now, he said, it would be possible to pursue the mineral development of Bechuanaland: ‘We refused to give any concessions in the absence of Seretse. Now he is back and this can be considered again.'

Rasebolai stood up. Everyone who had contributed to the discussion so far, he commented, had spoken for the same thing. He asked if anyone wished to speak differently. No one answered and there was a ‘sudden almost fierce murmur from the front of the crowd – “No, these men have said all our words.”'
²⁶
There was a unanimous acceptance of Seretse's renunciation.

Then Rasebolai said that, as was customary, he would ask the visiting dikgosi to speak. Kgosi Molefi spoke first, ‘forcefully, picturesquely and amusingly, greeting the [Bangwato] on behalf of the Bakgatla, expressing his joy at seeing the sons of Khama together'. He said that the Bangwato had been a proud people and then became
a laughing stock – but, he added jokingly, ‘Now the Bakgatla had seen Seretse, they were finished.' Bathoen spoke next and likened the Bangwato to an iron pot with three legs:

The three children of Khama were the three legs of the pot. In the pot food was boiled, and they were the food in the pot. If there was unity in the home, there would be unity in the Tribe. The troubles of the past should be left. Government made every effort to help the Tribe. The latter should replace evil with good, and Government should regard them with trust and confidence and forgive them.