Mma Holonga looked out over the orphan farm field, as if searching for bar girls. “I know all about that. In fact, I am very much involved in that good work. Since I came to see you, he has shown me the House of Hope and I have been doing work there. I have started hair-braiding classes for those bad girls and then they can come and work in my salons.”

“That is a very good idea,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And then there is the possible extension …”

“That too,” interrupted Mma Holonga. “I shall be paying for that. I have already talked to a builder I know. Then, after that is done, I am going to build a House of Hope out at Molepolole, for bad girls from that region. That was all my idea, not Bobologo’s.”

Mma Ramotswe listened to all this and realised that she was in the presence of a woman who had found her vocation. So there was nothing more for her to say, other than to congratulate her on her forthcoming marriage and to reflect on the truth that when people ask for advice they very rarely want your advice and will go ahead and do what they want to do anyway, no matter what you say. That applied in every sort of case; it was a human truth of universal application, but one which most people knew little or nothing about.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A VERY RICH CAKE IS SERVED

AFTER SHE had finished her surprising discussion with Mma Holonga, Mma Ramotswe moved over to join Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and Mma Makutsi, who were sitting at a table under a tree near the children’s dining room. More tea had been produced and was being served by the housemothers, and Mma Ramotswe noticed that there were many people in the crowd whom she knew. Indeed, some of them were relatives of hers; her cousin and husband, for example, and some of Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s people. Mma Potokwane had obviously been very active in gathering people for the parachute drop.

She walked over to join her cousin, who said that she would not be prepared to do a parachute drop, even if asked by the President himself. “I would have to say, I’m sorry Rra, but there are some things one cannot do, even for Botswana. I cannot jump from an aeroplane. I would die straightaway.”

The cousin’s husband agreed. He would be prepared to give all his money, and all his cattle, to charity rather than jump.

“You should not let Mma Potokwane hear that,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It might give her ideas.”