Mma Potokwane spotted him, as usual, as he parked his car under one of the syringa trees.

“I see you!” she shouted from her window. “I see you, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni!”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni waved in her direction as he locked the car. Then he strode towards the office, where the sound of cheerful music drifted out of one of the windows. Inside, Mma Potokwane was sitting beside her desk, a telephone receiver to her ear. She motioned for him to sit down and continued with her conversation.

“If you can give me some of that cooking oil,” she said, “the orphans will be very happy. They like to have their potatoes fried in oil and it is good for them.”

The voice at the other end said something, and she frowned, glancing up at Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, as if to share her irritation.

“But you cannot sell that oil if it is beyond its expiry date. So why should I pay you anything for it? It would be better to give it to the orphans than to pour it down the drain. I cannot give you money for it, and so I see no reason why you shouldn’t give it to us.”

Again something was said on the other end of the line, and she nodded patiently.

“I can make sure that the Daily News comes to photograph you handing the oil over. Everybody will know that you are a generous man. It will be there in the papers.”

There was a further brief exchange and then she replaced the receiver.

“Some people are slow to give,” she said. “It is something to do with how their mothers brought them up. I have read all about this problem in a book. There is a doctor called Dr Freud who is very famous and has written many books about such people.”

“Is he in Johannesburg?” asked Mr J.L.B. Matekoni.

“I do not think so,” said Mma Potokwane. “It is a book from London. But it is very interesting. He says that all boys are in love with their mother.”

“That is natural,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “Of course boys love their mothers. Why should they not do so?”

Mma Potokwane shrugged. “I agree with you. I cannot see what is wrong with a boy loving his mother.”

“Then why is Dr Freud worried about this?” went on Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “Surely he should be worried if they did not love their mothers.”

Mma Potokwane looked thoughtful. “Yes. But he was still very worried about these boys and I think he tried to stop them.”

“That is ridiculous,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “Surely he had better things to do with his time.”

“You would have thought so,” said Mma Potokwane. “But in spite of this Dr Freud, boys still go on loving their mothers, which is how it should be.”

She paused, and then, brightening at the abandonment of this difficult subject, she smiled broadly at Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “I am very glad that you came out today. I was going to phone you.”