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No. I think it would be better to hate her. Then she might die, and she wouldnt be able to say these things about me. Mma Ramotswe tried another tack. Would you like me to have a word with the teacher This brought an immediate reaction. No, Mma. It is not the teachers business. Mma Ramotswe sighed. There was a limit to the extent to which you could fight the battles of . Down among the , in the jungle they inhabited, the word of adults could count for very little. An adults reprimand, or punishment, might get a wrongdoers attention, but would not necessarily change attitudes, which would revert to their natural state the moment the adult disappeared. No, Motholeli was right: it might not help to take it up with the authorities. Well, you think about what I have told you, Mma Ramotswe said. And heres something you can remember. Its a thing you can say to a person like Kagiso. ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. You remember that. Motholeli muttered something. What was that asked Mma Ramotswe. I was practising it, Mma. ‘Sticks and stones may May break my bones, prompted Mma Ramotswe. But words will never hurt me. Watching the childs reaction, her solemn contemplation of what had been said, Mma Ramotswe felt some satisfaction that she seemed to be getting through to her. That was the beauty, she thought, of those little sayings, those proverbs that could learn and use to help them through life. That one came from somewhere elseshe had read about it when she was a child herselfbut there were plenty of old Botswana sayings that did the same thing, that gave you little rules for getting through life, for coping with its disappointments and sorrows. And did it matter, she dered, whether they were true or not Words could hurt you, and hurt you every bit as badly as sticks and stones. So that saying was wrong; but that was not the point. The point was that if it made you better, made you braver, then it was doing its work. The same thing was true, Mma Ramotswe thought, of believing in God. There were plenty of people who did not really believe in God, but who wanted to believe in him, and said that they did. Some people said that these people were foolish, that they were hypocritical, but Mma Ramotswe was not so sure about that. If something, or somebody, could help you to get through life, to lead a life that was good and purposeful, did it matter all that much if that thing or that person did not exist She thought it did notnot in the slightest bit. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni came into the house and tossed the keys of his truck on to a table. There are some people, he began, who should not be allowed on the road. Maybe they shouldnt even be allowed to walk anywhere, either. Maybe we should hang a large sign around their neck saying Very Dangerous, or No Sense, or something like that. Like an ostrich You know what I mean, Mma. You know how ostriches run, and how they go this way and that, swerving around. Anyway, he was lucky that he didnt make that Defence Force driver go right off the road because that would have put him in big trouble. It would be like declaring war, Mma. You dont declare war on the Botswana Defence Force. Mma Ramotswe agreed that such a thing would be unwise. Im very sorry to hear about these stupid people on the road, she said. Im sorry that we still have such people in these modern days. Yes, said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. And so am I. He sniffed at the air. Is that mutton stew, Mma Is that what I can smell It is, Rra. There is a big pot waiting for youfor usin the oven. It will be ready after you have washed your hands. And while we are eating, I can tell you of a very strange thing that happened to me today. Or happened to both of us, should I say. To Mma Makutsi and me. He went through to the bathroom to wash his hands, but they continued their conversation down the corridor. The were never disturbed by the sound of voices and would sleep through even the most animated conversation elsewhere in the house. So something happened, he called out. You found out some big important bit of information You a big prizeten thousand pula You saw a lion under your desk She laughed. These are all quite possible developments, Rra. For a moment she imagined Mma Makutsi suddenly whispering across the office, Dont make any sudden movements, Mma, but I think there is a lion under your desk. I think I can see its tail. And she would reply, I shall take what action is necessary, Mma Makutsi, but we really should finish dictation first There came the sound of splashing water, and then the gurgle of the basin draining. So what was it Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni asked. You had a visitor Yes, she replied. What did you say, Mma She raised her voice. I said yes, Rra. We had a visitor, but you will never, never guess who it was. Not in a year of guessing. Not even then, with twenty, fifty guesses a day; even then you would never get it. There was a momentary silence at the other end of the corridor. A tap was run again, and then there came the sound of the towel roller turning. Well, Rra, Mma Ramotswe went on. Try to guess. Ill give you one clue: he is very important. That man who wrote that book of yours. What is his name That Chlorine Andersen, or whatever hes called. Clovis, not Chlorine. Him She sounded crestfallen. Yes, Rra. How did you know He came back into the room, wiping his hands on the sides of his khaki trousers. I guessed. You said that I would never guess, and so I chose the most unlikely name I could think of. And that was that man, Clovis Andersen. Thats how I did it, Mma. Simple. OVER A LARGE HELPING of mutton stew, Mma Ramotswe narrated the story of her extraordinary meeting with Clovis Andersen. It was the same story that Mma Makutsi had, just an hour or so earlier, told Phuti Radiphuti; but more accurate, perhaps, in Mma Ramotswes telling of it than in that of her assistant. Mma Makutsi had a tendency to embellish stories for dramatic effect, or at least to tell the tale from her own perspective. In her version, then, Clovis Andersen had introduced himself first to her, rather than to Mma Ramotswe, had been facing her desk when he sat down, and had addressed almost all of his remarks to her. But in this, surely, she could be forgiven; for who among us does not see the world as turning towards him or her rather than towards others The weather is weather in so far as it affects us; great events are great events in that they have an impact on our lives; life, in short, was to be judged by what it had in store for Mma Makutsi, or for those within her immediate circle. This was neither solipsism nor selfishnessMma Makutsi was actually quite generous; rather, it was a matter of perspective. It was a universe made up of several key institutions, principal among which was the Botswana Secretarial College and all that it represented (the motto of the college being Be Accurate). Then there was the Double Comfort Furniture Store, to which she was now firmly attached as the wife of its managing director (and the motto of that concern was Be Comfortable); the Government of Botswana, its ministers and permanent secretaries; and finally the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and its owner and founder, Mma Ramotswe. This was her world, and these were the bodies to which she was unswervingly loyal.