Tholang Maqutu
On Wednesday, 27 May 2026, Lesotho was struck by calamity. A dark cloud swept across the nation’s airwaves on the day it lost one of its most naturally gifted men, a man who gave his all to his people. A true, all-round legend, a master, had fallen. The sadness of his loss stems from the fact that his tragic death occurred suddenly, likely catching his loved ones and friends off guard.
Many great personalities come and go, and in countries like Lesotho, many leave with undocumented intellectual wealth. As Shakespeare observed, “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.” People’s wisdom is buried with their bones, and the cemetery wastes it. Yet the twenty-first century is the era of the Fourth Industrial Revolution. Sadly, the available technology is often underused, misused, or ignored. This is the technology that could preserve and amplify the fallen heroes’ legacies. This article draws lessons from the life of this unsung hero for future generations to emulate.
I must declare a disclaimer. This article is not purely my conception. It is a product of a discussion between me and some of Frisco’s classmates and schoolmates. Peka High School is our alma mater.
Chemistry taught us that sulfuric acid consumption was considered one of the best indicators of a nation’s industrial development. Whereas, in the context of the Fourth Industrial Revolution, where information is a vital resource for development, reading skills remain essential. But Lesotho is not a reading state. Apartheid South Africa used to make derogatory judgmental assertions about the African majority: (I)f you want to hide something from a k@₤₤€r[1] put it in print. We must learn to defy this assertion.
Reading simple real stories about our own kind will bridge this barrier. They will make the next generation want to understand what made their penultimate generation tick. Only when we celebrate the balance of natural talent, personality, and achievement will the story inspire and transform the lives of young people in Lesotho and beyond.
A PC FM’s Vibe with Juvy host asked Frisco whether he would say he was the Mofokeng of his time. Mofokeng is an 18-year-old South African football sensation. He asked Frisco. Frisco politely retorted: “No, I am the Tséliso Khomari of my time.” That response is profound. It is this response that I am premising this article on this great statesman of our time.
Later in the same interview, Juvy asked Frisco how it all began. He excelled in football and tennis from a young age because there were football and tennis grounds adjacent to his parents’ home. Yet other children lived in the same area, so why did they not reach the same level as Frisco? Was it the support of his parents and family that set him apart from his peers? His parents and two elder sisters also played tennis.
Readers may be tempted to call Frisco’s success luck. A freak. He had access to sports grounds and grew up in the right environment. But luck alone does not explain his success. He still had to show up. As Nightingale reminds us, luck is not simply chance. It happens when opportunity meets preparedness. Opportunities are always there, but only a prepared mind can recognise and seize them. Another author, Hardy, extends this idea by adding attitude and action:
Luck = Opportunity + Preparedness + Attitude + Action
Attitude means keeping a positive outlook and a firm belief in possibility. Action means acting when the moment comes. The lesson is simple: luck is not random. It is shaped by readiness, mindset, and the choices we make.
Frisco’s record is public: his sporting ability, schooling and higher education, and employment are well established. But this factual record reveals little about the person in “I am Tséliso Khomari of my time.” What does this record teach our children who may aspire to emulate Tséliso Khomari? This article is a first step toward drawing on lessons from Frisco’s life for the younger generation.
The reader should step back and reflect on the statement prefixed by: “I am” The prefix reflects Frisco’s self‑image. His projection of himself. His identity was anchored in confidence, purpose, certainty or the promise of success.
God said to Moses, “I am who I am.[a]
The phrase “I am” has biblical roots. Exodus 3:14 shows Moses asking the burning bush who he should say had sent him. In response, God reveals himself as “I AM WHO I AM,” instructing Moses to tell the Israelites, “I AM has sent me to you.” Scripture also teaches that people are made in God’s image. When Frisco prefaced his words with “I am,” he signalled that we already knew who was speaking. That “I am” captured his self-understanding, the identity the statement embodies.
I have argued elsewhere that identity unlocks the path to success. I describe identity as a complex, elusive phenomenon that is intrinsic yet expressed through a person’s actions and bearing. An American author, Winship, argues that identity guides a person’s actions, behaviour, and values. Knowing your identity helps you recognise the talents and passions that make your role meaningful. Identity also develops partly through how we think others perceive us and how we reflect on ourselves. Does Frico’s life confirm his true identity? The answer depends on our definition of identity.
As I am writing this article, a radio commentary laments the lack of jobs, resulting in people’s university certificates ‘rotting’ on shelves. These cry-babies and whiners must learn from Frisco, who embraced President Kennedy’s call during his 1961 inaugural speech: “… ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” He responded in Hugh Masekela’s words: “Thuma mina – send me.” He answered the call by serving and helping.
In response to the challenges posed by Kennedy and Masekela, Frisco established the Action Group in Sports Association (AGSA) in Lesotho and acted as its Managing Director, thereby laying a solid foundation for future talent. AGSA’s work was strategic. He created the organisation after noticing that donor funds intended to reduce and control HIV/AIDS and tuberculosis were not reaching their intended beneficiaries. Their work was research-based.
During his time, sports in Lesotho had no remuneration. Sports personnel of the time were amateurs. Using the term ‘amateur‘ can sound derogatory, especially considering the quality of the sport and the discipline they displayed. Showcasing their talent freely was providing free service. In this case, the service is entertainment. This was whilst spectators paid to watch the games. They volunteered for the love of it. That is patriotism per excellence.
While preparing a document for another forum, I encountered a definition of ‘love‘ that brings Frisco to mind: his heart, his feelings, and the way he served others. Winship argued that true love frees people from self-protective instincts, self-promotion, and scarcity thinking because they are secure in God’s abundant love. This love transforms the question from “How do I keep myself safe?” to “How can I freely give myself away?” (see 1 John 4:18, NIV).
Most tributes to Frisco emphasise his athletic prowess. Some mention his master’s in public administration. But those facts alone do not capture him. They say little about his intellect, empathy, or leadership, qualities that reveal the depth of an exceptional person. Tséliso Khomari’s life is a masterclass in adapting to new stages: as age narrowed his competitive window, he redirected his momentum into executive roles in sport and public governance, serving with the Lesotho Football Association (LeFA), the Council of Southern Africa Football Associations (COSAFA), and in public institutions. Outside academia, he brought strategic leadership to the corporate world, first as Director of Corporate Services at the Lesotho Telecommunications Authority (LTA) and later as Director of Administration and Operations at Hybrecon Construction Company, ensuring his impact endured across seasons.
For example, in his final year at Peka High School, Frisco captained the football team, was in the athletics and tennis teams and served as a school prefect. Despite all his responsibilities, he earned his Cambridge Overseas Schools Certificate (COSC)[2] with a second-class division. He qualified for university admission. Four years later, he completed his Bachelor of Arts (BA) degree at the National University of Lesotho (NUL) within the allotted time.
I cannot interview Frisco today. Nonetheless, there is compelling evidence that sports achievements can be utilised as valuable assets in the classroom. I met a parent who had represented Lesotho in international athletics at my granddaughter’s Parents’ Day. At some point, he revealed how he connected his sports experiences to his academic success. His coach encouraged him to increase his training time progressively. These small, consistent steps, going the extra mile, compounded into lasting improvements. He applied the same principle to his NUL studies, steadily building his study habits. Today, he holds a university degree.
Showing up builds discipline and proves that goals outrank comfort and distraction. Consistent presence signals commitment to purpose and cultivates urgency, the drive to act today on what others postpone until tomorrow. Success grows not from talent alone but from steady effort, disciplined habits, and a positive attitude. Urgency and small repeated actions compound into lasting achievement. By going the extra mile, individuals deliver more than expected and invite greater returns, turning persistence into progress and progress into success. Exceed the task, expand the reward.
Associated with discipline are consistency, faith, and perseverance. The power of showing up, at all costs, even when circumstances argue otherwise, cannot be overstated. The greatest enemies are conformity and the comfort zone, often disguised as perfectionism or the illusion of ‘waiting until ready.’ The emphasis must remain on decisive action and urgency. Action precedes emotion and inspiration; momentum builds through task completion, producing satisfaction and self-confidence.
Frisco mastered navigating diverse roles. Juggling them required strict scheduling, cognitive flexibility, and exceptional stress tolerance. He effectively balanced his roles as Head of Human Resources and Assistant Registrar while actively lecturing in Economics, Public Administration, Human Resources Management, and Development Administration, showcasing his ability to shift focus without experiencing cognitive fatigue. In the 1980s, he stayed in top shape to captain Likoena.[3] He completed tough football contracts in South Africa and moved up in administration at NUL, ultimately becoming Acting Dean of Student Affairs.
In summary, Frisco’s life illustrates how responsibilities can be embraced not as competing distractions but as complementary avenues of service. His legacy reflects advanced structural compartmentalisation, enabling him to perform as the ultimate competitor on the field, a rigorous strategist in corporate corridors, and a distinguished statesman in the Senate, the Upper House of the Legislature.
In conclusion, our nation and its people have much to learn from the life of Tséliso Khomari. His lessons are not only spoken in words but inscribed in the silent connections between character, action, and destiny. Frisco’s journey deserves celebration, and his example offers values that can guide our youth. To say he fulfilled his purpose in this life is an understatement of the new millennium. He was love incarnate—his warmth, generosity, and deeds made love visible and active in the lives of others. Through him, we witnessed that identity fuels talent, and talent ignites destiny. May his soul rest in peace.
