“Yes, Rra. You would think that they would use—”

“Good-quality brick,” interjected Mr. Putumelo. “Or even stone. You’ve seen those houses out at Mokolodi? You’ve seen those good stone walls? Those houses will last forever, my friend. One hundred years—easy. Maybe two hundred years. Who knows how long? How long is a piece of string? That is what I always say.”

Phuti began to say something, but was again silenced by Mr. Putumelo.

“Now you’d think that a good-quality house would be built of brick or stone, but is that what is happening today? I can tell you, Rra Radiphuti, that there are builders in this town who are making those high-class houses with concrete blocks and then just putting lots of fancy plaster on the outside and making people think there are solid things inside. That’s what they are doing, those people, but we are not. We are still making good houses out of good building materials.” He paused. “So you see this brochure, Rra? You see these bricks? They are top-quality bricks. I would recommend one outer layer and one inner layer, with good metal ties in between. Then we will put ventilation grilles to allow the house to breathe. That will keep you cool in the hot months. That is very important.”

Phuti studied the picture of the brick. It seemed like an ordinary brick to him, but it had several lines of explanation printed below, setting out its superior properties. He handed the brochure back to the builder. “That is very good,” he said. “I think that we should have those bricks, Rra.”

Mr. Putumelo took off his glasses and deftly folded in the arms. “Done,” he said. “I will order everything we need and then we can start …” He looked at an annotated calendar on the wall. “We can start in four days. Maybe three.” Then he added: “Payment for work done will be due every ten days, for work done during those ten days, until completion of the contract. Agreed? Good.”

Phuti had not been prepared for this: beginning a house was a major step, he thought, and it seemed now to be happening so quickly.

“There are some details that my wife has raised with me,” he said. “I think that perhaps we might …”

Mr. Putumelo fixed him with an intense stare. “Your wife? She knows about houses?”

For a few moments, Phuti was at a loss. “She thinks that …”

Mr. Putumelo frowned. “Building a house is a very complicated matter, Rra. There are not many women in the building trade.”

“But women know about houses, Rra,” Phuti protested. “They are the ones who look after them.”