Mohwasa, Saleshando clash over Okavango Presidential Resort

The simmering dispute over land in Botswana’s iconic Okavango Delta has erupted into a high-stakes political clash between the government and opposition, crystallizing deep tensions over land ownership, public rights, and economic development in one of Africa’s most treasured natural landscapes. At the center of the storm is Minister of State President Moeti Mohwasa, who has publicly endorsed government plans to retain a swath of land in the Okavango Delta for the construction of a presidential resort. This development is pitched as a strategic move to boost tourism and elevate the country’s profile on the global stage.

Yet, standing firmly against this vision is Dumelang Saleshando, the Leader of the Opposition and Member of Parliament for Maun North, who has vociferously challenged the government’s claim. Saleshando contends that the land belongs to the people of Botswana, not the state, and argues that the government has no business building exclusive resorts on communal lands that have historically been under indigenous stewardship. The Okavango Delta, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is more than just a stunning wetland, it is a complex mosaic of communal and state land, shaped by centuries of indigenous occupation and management.

The land tenure system in Ngamiland, the district encompassing the Okavango, consists primarily of tribal or communal lands, managed by local communities under traditional authority, alongside areas designated as state land controlled by government departments. Historically, the Batawana tribe has exercised political control over the Okavango since the late 18th century, safeguarding the delta’s rich ecological balance through subsistence hunting, fishing, and gathering practices that have endured through generations. Recent decades have seen increasing pressures on this balance.

[paywall]

Tourism, a major economic driver, has sparked land acquisitions for lodges and resorts, while subsistence agriculture and rural livelihoods remain deeply tied to communal land rights. These competing interests have fueled ongoing debates about who truly owns the land and who should benefit from its resources. The state’s move to secure land for a presidential resort reflects a broader push to commercialize the delta’s natural assets, but it also risks alienating local communities who see the land as theirs by right and heritage.

Saleshando’s opposition is rooted in a critique of government overreach and a defense of communal land rights. In parliamentary speeches and public statements, he has warned against the alienation of land from its people without meaningful consultation or consent. He frames the resort plan as emblematic of a government out of touch with ordinary Batswana, prioritizing elite interests and tourism profits over public ownership and environmental stewardship.

For Saleshando, the land in the Okavango is a shared heritage, and any development must respect the rights of the local communities who depend on it. The government, on the other hand, argues that the presidential resort is a symbol of national pride and a catalyst for economic growth. Mohwasa has emphasized the potential for the project to attract high-profile visitors and international attention, which could translate into broader benefits for Botswana’s tourism sector and overall economy.

The resort, he claims, will be developed with environmental safeguards and will coexist with conservation efforts aimed at preserving the delta’s unique ecosystem. Yet this rationale faces skepticism from critics who question the transparency and inclusivity of the land acquisition process. Land disputes have historically been a flashpoint in Botswana, where land grabbing and government seizures have sometimes disenfranchised indigenous populations and disrupted traditional land use.

The Okavango dispute revives these unresolved tensions, highlighting the fragile balance between state authority and communal rights. The political stakes of this conflict are significant. Botswana prides itself on its long-standing democratic stability in a region often marked by land conflicts and authoritarian tendencies.

Yet, as the Okavango Delta controversy shows, land remains a potent source of political mobilization and contestation. The opposition’s vocal challenge to the government taps into broader anxieties about land reform, governance, and equitable development. Conservationists add another layer of complexity.

The Okavango Delta is a globally recognized biodiversity hotspot, home to endangered species and critical habitats. Efforts to protect the delta have involved a mix of local stewardship, national policy, and international cooperation. The proposed resort raises questions about how development can be balanced with conservation imperatives, especially given the delta’s vulnerability to environmental degradation.

Moreover, the delta’s hydrological and ecological systems are under threat from external pressures, including upstream developments in Angola and Namibia that affect water flow. This makes local land management decisions even more consequential for the delta’s future health. Any construction or land-use change within the delta must navigate these environmental sensitivities carefully.

As the debate intensifies, calls for inclusive dialogue and transparent decision-making have grown louder. Saleshando and other opposition figures insist that land allocations should not be rubber-stamped at the highest levels without genuine public participation. They demand that local voices, traditional leaders, and community members be at the heart of any land-use planning in the Okavango.

The government’s response has been to reaffirm its legal authority under the Tribal Land Act and other frameworks that empower it to acquire land for public purposes. Yet the dispute underscores the limitations of legal instruments when they clash with deeply felt communal identities and historical entitlements.

[/paywall]