Alexander McCall Smith: Tears of the Giraffe

He lifted the girl and placed her gently on the ground. Then, turning the chair upside down, he freed the brake block and readjusted the lever which operated it. Oil was applied to the bearings and the wheels were spun experimentally. There was no obstruction, and no noise. He righted the chair and pushed it over to where the girl was sitting.

"You have been very kind, Rra," she said. "I must get back now, or the housemother will think I'm lost."

She made her way down the path, leaving Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to his work on the pump. He continued with the repair and after an hour it was ready. He was pleased when it started the first time and appeared to run reasonably sweetly. The repair, however, would not last for long, and he knew that he would have to return to dismantle it completely. And how would the vegetables get water then? This was the trouble with living in a dry country. Everything, whether it was human life, or pumpkins, was on such a tiny margin.

MMA POTOKWANE was right: Mma Ramotswe was, as she had predicted, interested in diamonds.

The subject came up a few days after Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had fixed the pump at the orphan farm.

"I think that people know about our engagement," said Mma Ramotswe, as she and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni sat drinking tea in the office of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. "My maid said that she had heard people talking about it in the town. She said that everybody knows."

"That is what this place is like," sighed Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. "I am always hearing about other people's secrets."

Mma Ramotswe nodded. He was right: there were no secrets in Gaborone. Everybody knew everybody else's business.

"For example," said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, warming to the theme, "when Mma Sonqkwena ruined the gearbox of her son's new car by trying to change into reverse at thirty miles an hour, everybody seemed to hear about that. I told nobody, but they seemed to find out all the same."

Mma Ramotswe laughed. She knew Mma Sonqkwena, who was possibly the oldest driver in town. Her son, who had a profitable store in the Broadhurst Mall, had tried to persuade his mother to employ a driver or to give up driving altogether, but had been defeated by her indomitable sense of independence.

"She was heading out to Molepolole," went on Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, "and she remembered that she had not fed the chickens back in Gaborone. So she decided that she would go straight back by changing into reverse. You can imagine what that did to the gearbox. And suddenly everybody was talking about it. They assumed that I had told people, but I hadn't. A mechanic should be like a priest. He should not talk about what he sees."

Mma Ramotswe agreed. She appreciated the value of confidentiality, and she admired Mr J.L.B. Matekoni for understanding this too. There were far too many loose-tongued people about. But these were general observations, and there were more pressing matters still to be discussed, and so she brought the conversation round to the subject which had started the whole debate.

"So they are talking about our engagement," she said. "Some of them even asked to see the ring you had bought me." She glanced at Mr J.L.B. Matekoni before continuing. "So I told them that you hadn't bought it yet but that I'm sure that you would be buying it soon."

She held her breath. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was looking at the ground, as he often did when he felt uncertain.

"A ring?" he said at last, his voice strained. "What kind of ring?"

Mma Ramotswe watched him carefully. One had to he circumspect with men, when discussing such matters. They had very little understanding of them, of course, but one had to be careful not to alarm them. There was no point in doing that. She decided to be direct. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni would spot subterfuge and it would not help.

"A diamond ring," she said. "That is what engaged ladies are wearing these days. It is the modern thing to do."

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni continued to look glumly at the ground.

"Diamonds?" he said weakly. "Are you sure this is the most modern thing?"

"Yes," said Mma Ramotswe firmly. "All engaged ladies in modern circles receive diamond rings these days. It is a sign that they are appreciated."

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni looked up sharply. If this was true-and it very much accorded with what Mma Potokwane had told him-then he would have no alternative but to buy a diamond ring. He would not wish Mma Ramotswe to imagine that she was not appreciated. He appreciated her greatly; he was immensely, humbly grateful to her for agreeing to marry him, and if a diamond were necessary to announce that to the world, then that was a small price to pay. He halted as the word "price" crossed his mind, recalling the alarming figures which had been quoted over tea at the orphan farm.

"These diamonds are very expensive," he ventured. "I hope that I shall have enough money."

"But of course you will," said Mma Ramotswe. "They have some very inexpensive ones. Or you can get terms..."

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni perked up. "I thought that they cost thousands and thousands of pula," he said. "Maybe fifty thousand pula."

"Of course not," said Mma Ramotswe. "They have expensive ones, of course, but they also have very good ones that do not cost too much. We can go and take a look. Judgment-day Jewellers, for example. They have a good selection."

The decision was made. The next morning, after Mma Ramotswe had dealt with the mail at the detective agency, they would go to Judgment-day Jewellers and choose a ring. It was an exciting prospect, and even Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, feeling greatly relieved at the prospect of an affordable ring, found himself looking forward to the outing. Now that he had thought about it, there was something very appealing about diamonds, something that even a man could understand, if only he were to think hard enough about it. What was more important to Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was the thought that this gift, which was possibly the most expensive gift he would ever give in his life, was a gift from the very soil of Botswana. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was a patriot. He loved his country, just as he knew Mma Ramotswe did. The thought that the diamond which he eventually chose could well have come from one of Botswana's own three diamond mines added to the significance of the gift. He was giving, to the woman whom he loved and admired more than any other, a tiny speck of the very land on which they walked. It was a special speck of course: a fragment of rock which had been burned to a fine point of brightness all those years ago. Then somebody had dug it out of the earth up at Orapa, polished it, brought it down to Gaborone, and set it in gold. And all of this to allow Mma Ramotswe to wear it on the second finger of her left hand and announce to the world that he, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, the proprietor of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, was to be her husband.

THE PREMISES of Judgment-day Jewellers were tucked away at the end of a dusty street, alongside the Salvation Bookshop, which sold Bibles and other religious texts, and Mothobani Bookkeeping Services: Tell the Taxman to go away. It was a rather unprepossessing shop, with a sloping verandah roof supported by whitewashed brick pillars. The sign, which had been painted by an amateur sign-writer of modest talent, showed the head and shoulders of a glamorous woman wearing an elaborate necklace and large pendant earrings. The woman was smiling in a lopsided way, in spite of the weight of the earrings and the evident discomfort of the necklace.

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and Mma Ramotswe parked on the opposite side of the road, under the shade of an acacia tree. They were later than they had anticipated, and the heat of the day was already beginning to build up. By midday any vehicle left out in the sun would be almost impossible to touch, the seats too hot for exposed flesh, the steering wheel a rim of fire. Shade would prevent this, and under every tree there were nests of cars, nosed up against the trunks, like piglets to a sow, in order to enjoy the maximum protection afforded by the incomplete panoply of grey-green foliage.