She very much approved of the idea of giving people more money for their cattle, but she was puzzled as to how this could be done. The price of cattle was ultimately determined by the market, and the market took all sorts of factors into consideration in deciding what to pay. Alongside supply—the more cattle, the lower the price—there was the cost of feed to be considered, and that was a major influence on price. Ideally, cattle would be left to fend for themselves, finding in grass and leaves all the sustenance they needed. Even in a dry land, such as Botswana, cattle could find enough in what seemed unpromising surroundings, but when drought struck and the last of the vegetation withered, they needed feeding to remain alive. That was expensive, as animal feed had to be brought in from over the border, and if the desiccated fingers of drought stretched out into the rich grasslands, the veld of Gauteng, then the price of foodstuff would soar.

If the Fat Cattle Club bought thin cattle for fattening, then that would only come at a cost. It was possible that they could move them to areas where there was still grazing to be had, but such areas were already under pressure because of the drought further north. And if the cattle were not to be given good grazing, then how was their condition to be improved—other than through the purchase of feed and salt licks? One did not have to be an economist to understand that this would eat into any profit on the eventual sale of the cattle, particularly if you had paid ten per cent above the going rate in the first place.

Mma Ramotswe raised these concerns with Mma Potokwane, who shrugged. “I don’t know much about these things, Mma,” said the matron. “All I know, though, from running this place, is that everything costs money, and there’s no easy way round that. You can’t grow money in the fields, no matter how hard you try.”

“Exactly, Mma. So how does Mr. Polopetsi imagine he’ll get twenty-five per cent?”

Again Mma Potokwane shrugged. “But he says he’s already had twenty-five per cent return on his original investment.” She paused. “Maybe the cattle were very good beasts, Mma. Maybe they were already quite fat.”

That was impossible, and Mma Ramotswe told her friend that. “Those poor cattle from up north are skin and bone these days. They would need to eat and eat to get into good condition.”

“Then it is a mystery,” concluded Mma Potokwane. She was losing interest in Mr. Polopetsi’s scheme, and wanted to talk about Mma Makutsi’s baby. “I hear that that baby of hers purrs like a cat, Mma. Is that true?”

“It is true,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It is very strange. I believe it is the only purring baby in Botswana.”