Laone Thekiso is the Head of Music at the Maru-a-Pula school in Gaborone, Botswana. He plays the piano, marimba, and trumpet, and leads a lifelong journey of sharing his passion for music as an educator, composer, and performer.
Tell me about your childhood. You grew up in Botswana, right?
I did — my childhood was interesting. Born and raised in Botswana for the most part, except for four years during my formative years. It’s between six and ten, where my family lived in Sweden at that time. So that’s kind of a time where that’ll change quite a lot about, like, maybe a child’s not trajectory, but, like their influences — I started music there when I was about seven. But then we came back to Botswana when I was around ten, and then was here pretty much the whole time. So I did MaP until 4 and 5, which is like grade 11. And then I did a PG here at Hotchkiss.
Did your love for music start before MaP, or did it really develop there?
I know that it was quite clear early on, I think, from anyone who observed me; I could stay sitting at a piano and just, like, kind of practice for a while. … So I’d say that it started before I got to MAP, and then we were able to seriously hone in.
Describe the music at MaP to a complete stranger (single words). Why those words?
Performance…practical…energetic and joyful. Kids play differently here. It is vibrant, it is energetic, it is lively. It has a performative aspect. A total work of art: visually appealing as well as musically focused. I know that for me personally, that’s kind of what I’ve tried to inculcate. Maitisong is also a cultural hub for all, and the students represent all of those words here.
You’re also a composer in addition to a teacher. What’s it like to watch your work unfold on stage—what’s that feeling?
It’s a great feeling. Everything really happens in the rehearsal space; you rehearse way more than you ever perform. If you’re not like practicing for performance and enjoying your time in the rehearsal space, then you’re just going to be nervous. I always look forward to the crowd experiencing the energy of the band.
How do marimba performances go from score to performance—what’s your process?
It’s always been taught by rote. The person who knows the score breaks it down into usable information; you can teach quite difficult music by rote. That’s the process of putting the music together and then the actual performative aspects: “Guys, it’s a dance section. What are you. What are you gonna do?” We’re not gonna choreograph it. The expectation is that you’re gonna make something come alive here. You trust that they’ve got the sauce, they’ve got the energy.
How was your musical journey from Hotchkiss to Williams (in the U.S.)?
I got to play a movement of a concerto with the Hotchkiss Orchestra—Schumann’s Concerto, first movement. And then Williams was great. I majored in music, composition. I was also a member of Symphonic Winds, the percussion ensemble, and I was a TA for the Zambezi Marimba Band. That was just an opening where I could make something my own—leading an ensemble. I don’t think I’d be here doing this specific thing that I’m doing if I hadn’t done that.
How was Alport Mhlanga Astasio as a teacher and mentor?
Really interesting because he wasn’t a hands-on type of mentor or teacher. He was one you learned a lot from just by observing him. He would say, We’re not here to practice—we’ve already practiced. He was just a pro. You get that from watching the way things are done.
How important is having a mentor (master–apprentice) in music or life?
I think you don’t learn great habits, and you don’t know what it is you’re supposed to be working on, unless you are shown. Especially in the classical music world—it’s so rigorous you couldn’t possibly know unless you’re told exactly what to do. Nowadays there’s so much information that option paralysis is a thing. The easiest way is to get a teacher who can decide what you’ll focus on. You also learn about the kind of character that succeeds. There’s so much to learn from that that isn’t just content.
After college, did you come straight back to MaP? What was that like?
I was in the Boston area for about ten months, applied for graduate school, but didn’t get enough funding. I was here and had a place to go, so I was just kind of around. I visited a lot. Then it happened that my old marimba teacher and another American teacher both resigned in the same year. A year before that, my marimba teacher had passed away, and they had asked me to cover for him. In 2014, Ms. Mathee and Mr. Taylor offered me the job. It seemed like a natural fit. I had thought to myself before that if I ever taught marimba, I wouldn’t mind doing it here.
If you could invite three composers/musicians (dead or alive) to dinner, who and why?
Brahms—I love Brahms. French Kiwi Juice, FKJ—I’d love to hang out with him. And Jacob Collier for the same reason. Felakuti would be fascinating too—he pioneered Afrobeat.
How did you get into jazz? How is it different from performing classical music?
Whatever I know about jazz, I learned in the past ten years. Jazz taught me to use music theory I already knew—chords, scales, the ingredients of music. It made creating music more about process and craft than inspiration and blank-page syndrome. I also love to improvise.
They require different things. In classical times, being correct and strict was very important. Jazz influenced me not to be so rigid. If I ever performed more, I’d want it to focus around my own artistry—not just classical, but some of my own music too.
Why is music important in life?
Because it expresses things that aren’t easily expressed any other way, hearing someone sing can move you to tears. Humans need outlets for expression, and music feeds that part of our humanity.
How has music changed your life?
I don’t see who I’d be without it. I’ve always been a musical soul. It’s ingrained so deeply that it feels natural. Some things are just meant for certain people, and this is one of them for me.
Talent vs. hard work—how do you see it?
Both are necessary. You have to be willing to spend the time to develop. Even child prodigies have to work hard eventually. At some point, it catches up—you have to put in the work.
What was it like with Mr. Taylor here? In what defining ways did he run the school/community?
He was a supportive head. He saw the value of marimba and the marimba tours, and he was a huge advocate. He really understood what values the school stood for, and I appreciated that. Mr. Taylor was thoughtful and learned, and assemblies were very important to him. He always had a message—he was values-oriented. He once said, “When you’re teaching a student, you’re teaching yourself as well as the content.” Students learn who you are as a person as much as the subject. If what you say doesn’t match what you do, they see it as inauthentic. But if you’re walking the walk, they’ll buy in.
Sum up your teaching philosophy in one sentence. Why?
Make students do things. You’ve got to make students do things. Because I got the most out of my time at MaP from teachers who made us practice and do. You want people who are practitioners, not just talkers. That’s how you instill values, work ethic, and understanding of what it takes. Final answer.