The University of Botswana was built by peasants’ contributions of cows. That is why that famous maxim “motho le motho kgomo” reverberates with so much force in the corridors of UB for all to hear. To be fair, not all of them were peasants. Some were aristocrats; rich farmers who owned hundreds of cows and huge amounts of land that produced grains that could survive the scotching and sweltering heat of the Kgalagadi desert. I sometimes wonder what they had in mind when they gave away their measly livelihood for a dream and a promise of the future. Yes, there was a president who had a dream – a king’s dream reminiscent of King’s dream: “The University must be a committed institution, committed to the fulfilment of the ambitions and aspirations of the communities it was created to serve. One of these is ….simply pride in ourselves and in our past, which in turn would lead to a greater degree of self-confidence, which is one of the very basic ingredients of true independent nationhood.” It was a self-actualization dream for a people to have pride in themselves: their language, their culture, their children, and the heroic tales of bravery of yester years. More than anything it was a dream about the children and the children’s children. It was a dream deeply rooted in the transformational power of the cow. Over 20 years since its foundations were laid, many of the dreams of the founding fathers have been fulfilled. The campus is massive. Their sons and daughters occupy both academic and administrative leadership positions. Those cows have not gone to waste after all. Many are doctors; some even professors. The future looks bright! But does it? Before we dance, ululate and break out in song; before the traditional beer flows copiously to oil the old joints, let us pause for a while, for something is amiss. The founding fathers’ language lies prostrate in the streets suffering from supreme neglect. The sons and daughters of the founding fathers have found the foreign tongues more attractive and more appealing than their own – like the alluring sweet foreign wines. English and French, Chinese and now Portuguese; all flourish in the beautiful garden built by the local cows. Will the sons and daughters ever wake up and remember the cows, before the cows come home to roost?