She saw Mma Seeonyana standing outside her front door, a brown paper bag in her hand. As she parked the tiny white van at the edge of the road, she noticed the older woman watching her. This was another good sign. It was a traditional Botswana pursuit to watch other people and wonder what they were up to; this modern habit of indifference to others was very hard to understand. If you watched people, then it was a sign that you cared about them, that you were not treating them as complete strangers. Again, it was all a question of manners.

Mma Ramotswe stood at the gate and called out to Mma Seeonyana. The other woman responded immediately, and warmly, inviting Mma Ramotswe to come in and sit with her at the back of the house, where it was shadier. She did not ask her visitor what she wanted, but welcomed her, as if she were a friend or neighbour who had called in for a chat.

“You are the woman who lives over that way, on Zebra Drive,” said Mma Seeonyana. “You are the woman who employs Rose. She has told me about you.”

Mma Ramotswe was surprised that she had been recognised, but further explanation was quickly provided. “Your van is very well-known,” said Mma Seeonyana. “Rose told me about it, and I have seen you driving through town. I have often thought: I would like to get to know that lady, but I never thought I would have the chance. I am very happy to see you here, Mma.”

“I have heard of you too,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Rose has spoken very well of you. She was very proud that you were in charge of those school kitchens.”

Mma Seeonyana laughed. “When I was in that place I was feeding four hundred children every day,” she said. “Now I am feeding two little boys. It is much easier.”

“That is what we women must do all the time,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I am feeding three people now. I have a fiancé and I have two children who are adopted and who come from the orphan farm. I have to make many meals. It seems that women have been put in the world to cook and keep the yard tidy. Sometimes I think that is very unfair and must be changed.”

Mma Seeonyana agreed with this view of the world, but frowned when she thought of the implications. “The trouble is that men would never be able to do what we do,” she said. “Most men will just not cook. They are too lazy. They would rather go hungry than cook. That is a big problem for us women. If we started to do other things, then the men would fade away and die of hunger. That is the problem.”

“We could train them,” said Mma Ramotswe. “There is much to be said for training men.”