indeed the matter was not important as far as she was concerned. “Mr J.L.B. Matekoni is not a man who makes hasty decisions. He likes to think about things for a long time.”
Mma Potokwane shook her head. “That is a weakness, Mma Ramotswe,” she said. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but there are some men who need to be organised by women. Every woman knows this. It is only now, in these modern days, with men getting ideas about running their lives without any help from women- those dangerous, bad ideas-it is only now that we see how much these poor men need our assistance. It is a very sad thing.”
“I don’t know about that,” countered Mma Ramotswe. “I know that ladies have to help men in many things. Sometimes it is necessary to push men a little bit. But one should not take it too far.”
“Well it’s not going too far to push men to the altar,” retorted Mma Potokwane. “Women have always done that, and that is how marriages take place. If you left it up to men, they would never get there. Nobody would be married. You have to remind men to get married.”
Mma Ramotswe looked at her guest thoughtfully. Should she allow Mma Potokwane to help her to get Mr J.L.B. Matekoni a little bit further along the road to matrimony? It was awkward for her; she did not want him to form the impression that she was interfering too much in his life; men did not like that, and many men would simply leave if they felt this was happening. At the same time, if Mr J.L.B. Matekoni did need slight prompting, it would be easier for this to come from Mma Potokwane, who had a long history of pushing Mr J.L.B. Matekoni about, most of it with considerable success. One only had to remember the matter of that old pump at the orphan farm which she had cajoled him into maintaining well beyond the point where he had formed the professional opinion that it should be scrapped. And one only had to recall the recent instance of the parachute jump, which was another example of Mr J.L.B. Matekoni being made to agree to something to which he did not wish to agree. Perhaps there was a case for assistance in this matter too…
No, no, no! thought Mma Makutsi, willing her employer not to yield to the imprecations of the manipulative Mma Potokwane. She could see that Mma Ramotswe was tempted, and if only Mma Potokwane had not been there she would have urged Mma Ramotswe in the most vocal terms not to do anything which could have serious consequences for the engagement or, even more importantly, for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s state of health. Dr Moffat had told them all that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was not to be put under any stress, and what could be more stressful than to be the object of a determined campaign by Mma Potokwane? Look at that Herbert Molefi man, crushed by her tongue and unable to do anything to defend himself. If only the Botswana Defence Force could have seen it, thought Mma Makutsi, they would have signed her up immediately and made her a sergeant-major or a general or whatever they called those soldiers who ordered all the other soldiers about. Or even better, Mma Potokwane could have been used as a weapon to intimidate the enemy, whoever they were. They would see Mma Potokwane coming towards them and they would be incapable of doing anything, reduced by the sight to mute and helpless boys.
None of these thoughts reached Mma Ramotswe, although she did briefly glance across the room to where Mma Makutsi was busying herself with the tea. But Mma Makutsi was turned away at the time and Mma Ramotswe did not see her expression, so she had no idea of the other woman’s feelings.
“Well,” began Mma Ramotswe cautiously, “how would we help Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to make a decision? How would we do it?”
“We don’t have to help him make any decision,” replied Mma Potokwane firmly. “He has already made the decision to marry you, has he not? What is an engagement? It is an agreement to marry. That decision is made, Mma. No, all we have to do is to arrange for him to carry it out. We need to get a date, and then we need to make sure that he gets to the right place on the date. And in my view that means that we should make all the plans and then pick him up on the day and take him there. That’s right, we’ll
At this, Mma Makutsi spun round and stared at Mma Ramotswe open-mouthed. Surely Mma Ramotswe would see the danger in this? If you took a man to the church, he would simply run away. No man would be forced in this way, and certainly not a mature and intelligent man like Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. This was the stuff of disaster, and Mma Ramotswe should put a stop to these ridiculous fantasies at once. But instead-and here Mma Makutsi drew in her breath in astonishment-instead she was nodding her head in agreement!
“Good,” said Mma Potokwane enthusiastically. “I can see that you agree with me. So now all we have to do is to plan the wedding and get everything ready-in secret of course-and then on the day get him into a suit somehow…”
“And how would you do that?” interrupted Mma Ramotswe. “You know the sort of clothes that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni normally wears. Those overalls. That old hat with grease round the rim. Those suede veldschoens. How will we get him out of those and into suitable clothes for church?”
“Leave that side of it to me,” said Mma Potokwane confidently. “In fact, simply leave the whole thing to me. We can have the wedding out at the orphan farm. I will get my housemothers to cook all the food. I will make all the arrangements and all you will have to do is to get there at the time I will tell you. Then you will be married. I promise you.”
Mma Ramotswe looked doubtful and was about to open her mouth to say something when Mma Potokwane continued. “You needn’t worry, Mma Ramotswe. I am a very tactful person. I know how to do these things. You know that.”
Mma Makutsi’s eyes widened, but she knew that there was no stopping Mma Potokwane now, and that events would run their course whatever she tried to do. And what was there for her to do? She could attempt to persuade Mma Ramotswe to forbid Mma Potokwane from proceeding with her plan, but that would be unlikely to happen once Mma Ramotswe had agreed to it. She could warn Mr J.L.B. Matekoni that he was in danger of being pushed into his own wedding, but then that would seem appallingly disloyal to Mma Ramotswe, and if she did that she might be responsible for his doing something really foolish, such as calling off the engagement altogether. No, there was only one thing for Mma Makutsi to do, and that was to keep out of the whole affair, although she would allow herself one remark, perhaps, just as an aside, to register her disapproval of the whole scheme.
Mma Potokwane did not stay long, but every minute of the visit seemed to drag terribly. An icy atmosphere had developed, with Mma Makutsi sitting in almost complete silence, responding to Mma Potokwane’s remarks only in the briefest and most unhelpful of terms.
“You must be very busy,” the matron said to her, pointing to the papers on her desk. “I have heard that you are a very efficient secretary. Perhaps you will come out to the orphan farm one day and sort out my office! That would be a good thing to do. You could have a big bonfire of all the spare papers. The children would like that.”
“I am too busy,” said Mma Makutsi. “Perhaps you should employ a secretary. There is a very fine secretarial college, you know, the Botswana Secretarial College. They will provide you with a name. They will also tell you what the right salary will be.”
Mma Potokwane took a sip of her tea and looked at Mma Makutsi over the rim of the cup.
“Thank you, Mma,” she said. “That is a good suggestion. But of course we are an orphan farm and we do not have very much money for secretaries and the like. That is why kind people-people like Mr J.L.B. Matekoni-offer their services free.”
“He is a kind man,” agreed Mma Makutsi. “That is why people take advantage of him.”
Mma Potokwane put down her cup and turned to Mma Ramotswe. “You are very lucky to have an assistant who can give you good advice,” she said politely. “That must make your life easier.”
Mma Ramotswe, who had been quite aware of the developing tension, did her best to smooth over the situation.
“Most tasks in this life are better done by two people,” she said. “I am sure that you get a lot of support from the housemothers. I am sure that they have good advice to give too.”
Mma Potokwane rose to her feet to leave. “Yes, Mma,” she said, glancing at Mma Makutsi. “We must all help one another. That is very true.”
One of the apprentices was detailed to drive Mma Potokwane back to the orphan farm, leaving Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi alone in the office once again. Mma Makutsi, sitting at her desk, looked down at her shoes, as she often did in moments of crisis; her shoes, always her allies, but now so unhelpfully
