At nine o'clock Mma Makutsi made a cup of bush tea for Mma Ramotswe and a cup of ordinary tea for herself. Mma Makutsi had tried to accustom herself to bush tea, loyally drinking it for the first few months of her employment, but had eventually confessed that she did not like the taste. From that time on there were two teapots, one for her and one for Mma Ramotswe.
'It's too strong," she said. "And I think it smells of rats."
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"It does not," protested Mma Ramotswe. "This tea is for people who really appreciate tea. Ordinary tea is for anyone." I
Work stopped while tea was served. This tea break was tra ditionally a time for catching up on small items of gossip rather than for the broaching of any large subjects. Mma Makutsi enquired after Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, and received a brief report of Mma Ramotswe's unsatisfactory meeting with him. ;
"He seemed to have no interest in anything," she said. "I could have told him that his house was on fire and he probably wouldn't have bothered very much. It was very strange."
"I have seen people like that before," said Mma Makutsi. "I had a cousin who was sent off to that hospital in Lobatse. I visited her there. There were plenty of people just sitting and staring up at the sky. And there were also people shouting out at the visitors, shouting strange things, all about nothing."
Mma Ramotswe frowned. "That hospital is for mad people," i she said. "Mr J.L.B. Matekoni is not going mad."
"Of course not," said Mma Makutsi hurriedly. "He would never go mad. Of course not."
Mma Ramotswe sipped at her tea. "But I still have to get him to a doctor," she said. "I was told that they can treat this sort of behaviour. It is called depression. There are pills which you can take."
"That is good," said Mma Makutsi. "He will get better. I am sure of it."
Mma Ramotswe handed over her mug for refilling. "And what about your family up in Bobonong?" she asked. "Are they well?"
Mma Makutsi poured the rich red tea into the mug. "They are very well, thank you, Mma."
Mma Ramotswe sighed. "I think that it is easier to live in
Bobonong than here in Gaborone. Here we have all these troubles to think about, but in Bobonong there is nothing. Just a whole lot of rocks." She stopped herself. "Of course, it's a very good place, Bobonong. A very nice place."
Mma Makutsi laughed. "You do not have to be polite about Bobonong," she said. "I can laugh about it. It is not a good place for everybody. I would not like to go back, now that I have seen what it is like to live in Gaborone."
"You would be wasted up there," said Mma Ramotswe. "What's the use of a diploma from the Botswana Secretarial College in a place like Bobonong? The ants would eat it."
Mma Makutsi cast an eye up to the wall where her diploma from the Botswana Secretarial College was framed. "We must remember to take that to the new office when we move," she said. "I would not like to leave it behind."
"Of course not," said Mma Ramotswe, who had no diplomas. "That diploma is important for the clients. It gives them confidence."
"Thank you," said Mma Makutsi.
The tea break over, Mma Makutsi went to wash the cups under the standpipe at the back of the building, and it was just as she returned that the client arrived. It was the first client for over a week, and neither of them was prepared for the tall, well-built man who knocked at the door, in the proper Botswana manner, and politely awaited his invitation to enter. Nor were they prepared for the fact that the car which brought him there, complete with smartly attired Government driver, was an official Mercedes-Benz.
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YOU KNOW who I am, Mma?" he said, as he took up the invitation to seat himself in the chair before Mma Ramotswe's desk.
"Of course, I do, Rra," said Mma Ramotswe courteously. "You are something to do with the Government. You are a Government Man. I have seen you in the newspapers many times."
The Government Man made an impatient gesture with his hand. "Yes, there's that, of course. But you know who I am when I am not being a Government Man?"
Mma Makutsi coughed politely, and the Government Man half-turned to face her.
"This is my assistant," explained Mma Ramotswe. "She knows many things."
"You are also the relative of a chief," said Mma Makutsi.' "Your father is a cousin of that family. I know that, as I come from that part too."
The Government Man smiled. "That is true."
"And your wile," went on Mma Ramotswe, "she is some rel-'! ative of the King of Lesotho, is she not? I have seen a photograph of her, too."
The Government Man whistled. "My! My! I can see that I have come to the right place. You people seem to know everything."
Mma Ramotswe nodded to Mma Makutsi and smiled. "It is our business to know things," she said. "A private detective who knows nothing would be no use to anybody. Information is what we deal in. That is our job. Just as your job is giving orders to civil servants."
"I don't just give orders," the Government Man said peevishly. "I have to make policy. I have to make decisions."
"Of course," said Mma Ramotswe hurriedly. "It must be a very big job being a Government Man."
The Government Man nodded. "It is not easy," he said. "And it is not made any easier if one is worried about something. Every night I wake up at two, three and these worries make me sit up in my bed. And then I don't sleep, and when it comes to making decisions in the morning my head is all fuzzy and I cannot think. That is what happens when you are worried."
Mma Ramotswe knew that they were now coming to the reason for the consultation. It was easier to reach it this way, to allow the client to bring the matter up indirectly rather than to launch straight into an enquiry. It seemed less rude, somehow, to allow the matter to be approached in this way.
"We can help with worries," she said. "Sometimes we can make them vanish altogether."
"So I have heard," said the Government Man. "People say that you are a lady who can work miracles. I have heard that.'
"You are very kind, Rra." She paused, running over in her mind the various possibilities. It was probably unfaithfulness, which was the most common problem of all the clients who consulted her, particularly if, as in the Government Man's case, they were in busy jobs that took them away from home a great deal. Or it could be something political, which would be new terrain for her. She knew nothing about the workings of political parties, other than that they involved a great deal of intrigue. She had read all about American presidents and the difficulties that they had with this scandal and that scandal, with ladies and burglars and the like. Could there be something like that in Botswana? Surely not, and if there were, she would not choose to get involved. She could not see herself meeting informants on dark corners in the dead of night, or talking in whispers to journalists in bars. On the other hand, Mma Makutsi might appreciate the opportunity...
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The Government Man raised his hand, as if to command silence. It was an imperious gesture, but then he was the scion of a well-connected family and perhaps these things came naturally.
"I take it that I can speak in complete confidence," he said, glancing briefly at Mma Makutsi.
"My assistant is very confidential," said Mma Ramotswe. "You can trust her."
The Government Man narrowed his eyes. "I hope so," he said. "I know what women are like. They like to talk."
Mma Makutsi's eyes opened wide with indignation.
"I can assure you, Rra," said Mma Ramotswe, her tone steely, "that the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency is bound by the strictest principle of confidentiality. The strictest principle. And that goes not only for me but also for that lady over there, Mma Makutsi. If you are in any doubt as to this, then you should find some
other detectives. We would not object to that." She paused. "And another thing, Rra. There is a lot of talking that goes on in this country, and most of it, in my opinion, is done by men. The women are usually too busy to talk."
She folded her hands on her desk. She had said it now, and she should not be surprised if the Government Man walked out. A man in his position would not be used to being spoken to in that way and he presumably would not take well to it.
For a moment the Government Man said nothing, but simply stared at Mma Ramotswe.
"So," he said at last. "So. You are quite right. I am sorry that I suggested that you would not be able to keep a secret." Then, turning to Mma Makutsi, he added, "I am sorry that I suggested that thing about you, Mma. It was not a good thing to say."
Mma Ramotswe felt the tension ebb away. "Good," she said. "Now why don't you tell us about these worries? My assistant will boil the kettle. Would you like bush tea or ordinary tea?"
"Bush," said the Government Man. "It's good for worries, I think."
"BECAUSE YOU know who I am," said the Government Man, "I don't have to start at the beginning, or at least at the beginning of the beginning. You know that I am the son of an important man. You know that. And I am the firstborn, which means that I shall be the one to head the family when God calls my father to join him. But I hope that will not be for a long time.
"I have two brothers. One had something wrong with his head and does not talk to anybody. He never talked to anybody and took no interest in anything from the time he was a little boy. So we have sent him out to a cattle post and he is happy there. He stays there all the time and he is no trouble. He just sits and counts the cattle and then, when he has finished, he starts again. That is all that he wants to do in life, even though he is thirty-eight now.
"Then there is my other brother. He is much younger than I am. I am fifty-four, and he is only twenty-six. He is my brother by another mother. My father is old-fashioned and he had two wives and his mother was the younger. There were many girl children--I have nine sisters by various mothers, and many of them have married and have their own children. So we are a big family, but small in the number of important boys, who are really only myself and this brother of twenty-six. He is called Mogadi.
"I am very fond of my brother. Because I am so much older
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than he is, I remember him very well from when he was babyj When he grew a bit, I taught him many things. I showed hir how to find mopani worms. I showed him how to catch fly-l ing ants when they come out of their holes at the first rains, ij told him which things you can eat in the bush and which you] cannot.
"Then one day he saved my life. We were staying out at the! cattle post where our father keeps some of his herds. Therel were some Basarwa there, because my father's cattle post isf not far from the place where these people come in from the! Kalahari. It is a very dry place, but there is a windmill which my father set up to pump water for the cattle. There is a lot! of water deep underground and it tastes very good. These! Basarwa people liked to come and drink this water while they] were wandering around and they would do some work for my father in return for some milk from the cows and, if they were j lucky, a bit of meat. They liked my father because he never) beat them, unlike some people who use sjamboks on them. I; have never approved of beating these people, never.
"I took my brother out to see some Basarwa, who were living.] under a tree not far away. They had some slingshots out of ] ostrich leather and I wanted to get one for my brother. I took some meat to give to them in exchange. I thought that they might also give us an ostrich egg.
"It was just after the rains, and there was fresh grass and flowers. You know, Mma, what it is like down there when the first rains come. The land is suddenly soft and there are flowers, flowers all around. It is very beautiful, and for a while you forget just how hot and dry and hard it has been. We walked along a path which the animals had made with their hooves,
myself in the front and my little brother just behind me. He had a long stick which he was trailing along the ground beside him. I was verY happy to be there, with my little brother, and with the fresh grass that I knew would make the cattle fat
again.
"He suddenly called out to me, and I stopped. There in the grass beside us was a snake, with its head up off the ground and its mouth open, hissing. It was a big snake, about as long as 1 am tall, and it had raised about an arm's length of its body off the ground. I knew immediately what sort of snake this was and my heart stopped within me.
"I was very still, because I knew that a movement could make the snake strike and it was only this far from me. It was very close. The snake was looking at me, with those angry eyes that those mambas have, and I thought that it was going to strike me and there was nothing I could do.
"At that moment there was a scraping noise and I saw that my little brother, who was only eleven or twelve at the time, was moving the stick towards the snake, pushing its tip along the ground. The snake moved its head, and before we could make out what was happening, it had struck at the end of the stick. That gave me time to turn round, pick up my brother, and run down the path. The snake disappeared. It had bitten the stick and perhaps it had broken a fang. Whatever happened, it did not choose to follow us.
"He saved my life. You know, Mma, what happens if a person is bitten by a mamba. There is no chance. So from that day I knew that I owed my life to this little brother of mine.
'That was fourteen years ago. Now we do not walk through the bush together very often, but I still love my brother very
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much and that is why I was unhappy when he came to see me] here in Gaborone and told me that he was going to marry a girl he had met when he was a student here at the university. He] was doing a BSc there and while he was doing this he camel across a girl from Mahalapye. I know her father because he isf a clerk in one of the ministries here. I have seen him sitting! under the trees with other clerks at lunchtime, and now he.! waves to me every time he sees my car go past. I waved back at! the beginning, but now I cannot be bothered. Why should II
j|
wave to this clerk all the time just because his daughter hasj met my brother?
"My brother is staying down at the farm that we have up] north of Pilane. He runs it very well and my father is very con-J tent with what he is doing. My father has given him the farm,! in fact, and it is now his. This makes him a wealthy man. I] have another farm which also belonged to my father, so I am not jealous of that. Mogadi married this girl about three! months ago and she moved into the farmhouse that we have.ij My father and my mother live there. My aunts come and stay! for much of the year. It is a very big house and there is room! for everybody.
"My mother did not want this woman to marry my brother.! She said that she would not make a good wife and that she! would only bring unhappiness to the family. I also thought that! it was not a good idea, but in my case it was because I thought! I knew why she wanted to marry my brother. I did not think! that it was because she loved him, or anything like that; I think! that she was being encouraged by her father to marry my brother because he came from a rich and important family. I] shall never forget, Mma, how her father looked about the|
lace when he came to talk about the marriage with my father. Ujs eves were wide with greed, and I could see him adding up the value of everything. He even asked my brother how many cattle he had--that from a man who has no cattle himself, I should imagine!
"I accepted my brother's decision, although I thought it was a bad one, and I tried to be as welcoming as possible to this new wife. But it was not easy. This was because all the time I could see that she was plotting to turn my brother against his family. She obviously wants my mother and father out of that house and has made herself very
unpleasant to my aunts. It is like a house in which a wasp is trapped, always buzzing away and trying to sting the others.
"That would have been bad enough, I suppose, but then something happened which made me even more concerned. I was down there a few weeks ago and I went to see my brother at the house. When I arrived, I was told that he was not well. I went through to his room and he was lying in bed holding his stomach. He had eaten something very bad, he said; perhaps it was rotten meat.
Alexander McCall Smith - No 1 LDA 3 - Morality for Beautiful Girls Page 5
