They sat together for a short time longer. Mrs Moffat tried to think of something to say, of some advice to give, but she simply could not think of any way out of the situation in which Mma Ramotswe found herself. Friends sometimes behaved in a foolish way—she knew that very well—and this was a good example of that happening. It was not as if Mma Ramotswe had done anything morally reprehensible—it was more a case of being careless about a legal formality. But this was a legal formality which was really rather important, and she simply could not think of any way out of it.

After a few minutes, Mma Ramotswe sighed and stood up. She straightened her blouse and brushed some dust off the side of her skirt, dust more imaginary than real.

“This is my problem, Mma,” she said to Mrs Moffat. “I cannot expect you to help me with this. I shall have to do something myself to sort it all out.” She paused, before continuing, “Although I cannot think of anything that I can do, Mma. I cannot think of anything at all!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MMA MAKUTSI AND MR J.L.B. MATEKONI VISIT MR J.L.B. MATEKONI’S HOUSE

MMA MAKUTSI realised the next day that Mma Ramo-tswe’s mind was on other things. Her employer was rarely moody, but there were occasions when it seemed as if some problem was preventing her from giving her full attention to the affairs of the agency. It was usually something domestic—one of the children might be experiencing difficulty at school or Rose, her maid, might have told her of the hardship being endured by a relative or friend. There was so much need, even in a fortunate country such as Botswana; it seemed as if the reservoirs of suffering were never empty, and no matter what progress was made there would always be people for whom there was no job, or no place to live, or not enough food. And when you became aware of these needs, especially if they were being felt by those who had a claim on you, then it was hard to put them out of your mind.

Everybody knew somebody in need. Mma Makutsi herself had just heard of a young girl whose parents had both died. This girl, who lived with an aunt, was clever. She had done well in her examinations, but now there was no money to pay her school fees and she would have to give up her education if this money were not found. What could one do? Mma Makutsi could not help her; although she had a bit of spare money now from the Kalahari Typing School for Men, she had her own people to look after up in Bobonong. So there was nobody to help this child, and she would lose her chance to make something of her life.