Alexander Smith - Tea Time for the Traditionally Built People

Mma Ramotswe had to agree. She had come across so many different types of people in her job, and she knew that even those who were strong could find times when they were weak. It was not really their fault, because we were all human and being human made us weak. But it happened.

“Have you heard anything else?”

Mma Makutsi did not reply immediately, and Mma Ramotswe knew from her silence that there had been something else.

“I have heard something,” Mma Makutsi said eventually. “I met one of the ladies who works in Phuti's shop. It was in the supermarket. She told me that over the last few days, Violet has sold even more beds. Apparently Phuti is so pleased that he has been talking about promoting her to…” She paused. It clearly cost some effort just to say it. “Assistant manager.”

Mma Ramotswe was shocked. “Of the whole store?”

Mma Makutsi shook her head. “No, not the whole store. But of that floor. Assistant floor manager.”

Mma Ramotswe whistled. “That is very bad, Mma. But how has she been selling all these beds? Is she really such a great saleslady?”

“It is a mystery,” said Mma Makutsi. “Maybe she is persuasive. I don't know. But one thing she did tell me, Mma-that other woman-she said that all the customers, except for one, were men.”

Mma Ramotswe had been sitting back in her chair during this conversation; now she sat bolt upright.

“Men, Mma?”

“Men.”

Mma Ramotswe rose to her feet. She did not go anywhere- she simply rose to her feet, and Mma Makutsi knew this for the signal that it was. Mma Ramotswe had experienced a moment of insight.

“Mma Makutsi,” she said, her voice quiet, but tense with excitement. “Please go and see if Charlie is free. Even if he isn't free, ask him to come in here and talk to me.”

Mma Makutsi headed for the door. “What do you want to ask him to do, Mma?”

“He needs to buy a bed,” said Mma Ramotswe.

CHARLIE CAME IN BEAMING. There had been an increasing jauntiness about him recently, noticed by both Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi, but commented upon by only one of them.

“He's up to something, Mma,” said Mma Makutsi. “See the way he's walking? See the way his legs go up and down like that?”

“But everybody's legs go up and down,” Mma Ramotswe pointed out mildly.

It was as if Mma Makutsi had not heard. “And his bottom, Mma. I do not wish to be indelicate, but see how his bottom sticks out.”

“Everybody's bottom sticks out,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That is normal, Mma.” She paused. There were exceptions, of course. Those thin, modern people who spent all their energy on reducing the size of their clothing-they must have a most uncomfortable time of it sitting down, with very little padding.

And now here was Charlie sauntering into the office, wiping his hands on one of the pieces of lint that Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni insisted on using, in spite of the ubiquity of paper towels.

“What is it, Mma Ramotswe?” he asked. “Are you ladies having difficulty adding figures or something like that? I'm your man for that. Best in class for mathematics at the Botswana Automotive Trades College -two years running. One, two, three, four-I'm your man.”

“Excuse me,” said Mma Makutsi as she made her way back to her desk. “If you were best in class at that college of yours, then why have you not finished your apprenticeship? Answer that, Mr. Charlie.”

Charlie did not look at Mma Makutsi, but addressed Mma Ramotswe in the tone of one unjustly attacked. “You hear that, Mma Ramotswe? You hear what that lady over there has said? Not everyone finishes their apprenticeship in double-quick time. It is sometimes better to do things thoroughly. You should not rush.”

“Of course, Charlie,” said Mma Ramotswe soothingly. “You finish your apprenticeship in your own time. It does not matter. Some people never even do an apprenticeship.”

She had not intended this to be a jibe, but Charlie seized on it immediately. Spinning round, he pointed triumphantly at Mma Makutsi. “Some detectives, for example, Mma! Some people who call themselves assistant detectives never did a detective apprenticeship in their lives! Ha!”

“Hush, Charlie,” said Mma Ramotswe. “We do not want to have an argument in here. This office is a peaceful place. This is Botswana, remember.”

“She…”

Mma Ramotswe cut him short. “Now, look, Charlie, we have a very important job for you. This is something that requires a very good actor. Somebody who could be in films…”

“If he finished his apprenticeship,” chipped in Mma Makutsi.

Mma Ramotswe threw a discouraging glance at her assistant. “Please! Please! Thank you! Now what we want you to do, Charlie, is to come with us-with Mma Makutsi and me. We are going to the Double Comfort Furniture Shop-you know, that's the place that belongs to Mr. Phuti Radiphuti.”

“Old Phuti,” said Charlie.

“And once we get there,” Mma Ramotswe persisted, “we would like you to go in and pretend that you are interested in buying a bed. Go to the bed department and you will find a lady there called Violet…”

“Violet Sephotho!” exclaimed Charlie. “The one we chased in the supermarket. The one with the bottom like that.” He made an expansive gesture.

Mma Ramotswe shook her head. “You should not talk like that, Charlie. But yes, she is a very glamorous lady.”

“Oh, is that what husband-stealers are called these days?” interjected Mma Makutsi. “That is a very good name for such a lady, I think.”

Mma Ramotswe allowed this to pass. “Yes, she is a glamorous lady, Charlie. And all I want you to do is to pretend that you are very interested in buying a bed. Say that you have just moved here from Francistown. Say that you had a very good job there with one of the mining companies, and now you are going to be based in Gaborone and need a new bed. Tell her that you would like a double bed-that you are not married or anything like that, but that you would like a good-sized bed. That is all you have to say.”

Charlie clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “I am a very good actor, Mma. This will be no problem.”

“I'm sure you're a good actor, Charlie. I'm sure you'll do it very well. But one thing: Could you pretend that you're not too sure about the bed she tries to sell you? Say that you will have to think about it and that you may need to look at beds in some other shops. Pretend to be one of those customers who always need persuading.”

“And then?”

“And then, after you have said all this, and she has said all that she says, you can say that you have to go, but that you will be back later. Don't sign anything, whatever you do.”

“I never sign things, Mma,” said Charlie. “If you give people your name, then they get you. I have always known that. Watch out is my motto!”

Mma Makutsi thought this very amusing. “Good one, Charlie. Watch out, here comes Charlie. Good motto, Charlie.”

Mma Ramotswe allowed herself a small smile at this, as did Charlie. This banter between Mma Makutsi and Charlie was not all that serious, she thought. In fact, she believed that underneath it all they probably liked each other, difficult though it was at times to see this affection in action. People have strange dealings with one another, Mma Ramotswe felt: those who appear on the surface to be friends may in reality be enemies-but how could you tell? And did it happen the other way round? Take Mr. Molofololo: he had many enemies, it seemed, or at least many people who appeared not to like him for some reason or other. But how many of these enemies were really friends? It was easy to imagine why an enemy might wish to appear a friend, but why, she wondered, would a friend claim to be an enemy?