“After a while I started my own business. I found a small tuck shop that was closing down and I started off in there. It was very cramped, and I had to bring the water I needed in a bucket, but all my customers moved with me and said that they did not mind if the new place was very small. They said that the important thing was to have somebody who really knew about hair, and they said I was such a person. One of them said that a person who knew as much about hair only comes along once or twice in a century. I was very pleased to hear this and asked that person to write out what they had said. I then had a sign-writer paint it on a board and passers-by would stop and read that remark and look at me with respect as I stood there with my scissors ready to cut their hair. I was very happy, Mma. I was very happy.
“I built up my business and eventually I bought a proper salon. Then I bought another one and another after that up in Francistown. Everything went very well and all this time the money was piling up in the bank. I had so much money that I could not really spend it all myself, and so I gave some to my brother and asked him to use it to buy some other businesses for me. He bought me a shop and a place where they make dresses. So I had a factory now, and this made me even richer. I was very happy with all that money, and I went into the bank every Thursday to check how much I had. They were very polite to me now, as I had all that money and banks like people with lots of money.
“But you know what I didn’t have, Mma? I didn’t have a husband. I had been so busy cutting hair and making money that I had forgotten to get married. Three months ago, when I had my fortieth birthday, I suddenly thought: where is your husband? Where are all your children? And the answer was that there were none of these. So I decided that I would find a husband. It may be too late to have children now, but at least I would find a husband.
“And do you think that was easy, Mma? What do you think?”
Mma Ramotswe had by now made the bush tea and was pouring it into her client’s cup. “I think it would be easy for a lady like you,” she said. “I would not think you would find it hard.”
“Oh?” said Mma Holonga. “And why would I not find it hard?”
Mma Ramotswe hesitated. She had answered without thinking very much about it, and now she wondered how she would explain herself. She had probably thought that it would be easy for Mma Holonga to find a husband because she was rich. It was easy for rich people to do anything, even to find a husband. But could she say that? Would it not seem insulting to Mma Holonga that the only reason why Mma Ramotswe should think she could find a husband was because she was rich, and not because she was beautiful or desirable.
“There are many men…” began Mma Ramotswe, and then stopped. “There are many men looking for wives.”
“But many women say that it is not all that easy,” said Mma Holonga. “Why should they find it hard while I should find it easy? Can you explain that?”
Mma Ramotswe sighed. It was best to be honest, she thought, and so she said, quite simply, “Money, Mma. That is the reason. You are a lady with a large chain of hair salons. You are a rich lady. There are many men who like rich ladies.”
Mma Holonga sat back in her chair and smiled. “Exactly, Mma. I was waiting to see if you would say that. Now I know that you really do understand things.”
“But they would also like you because you are an attractive lady,” added Mma Ramotswe hurriedly. “Traditional Botswana men like ladies who are more traditionally shaped. You and I, Mma. We remind men of how things used to be in Botswana before these modern-shaped ladies started to get men all confused.”
Mma Holonga nodded, but in a rather distracted fashion. “Yes, Mma. That may be quite true, but I think that my problem remains. I must tell you what happened when I let it be known that I was looking for a suitable husband. A very interesting thing happened.” She paused. “But would you pour me more of that tea, Mma? It is very fine tea and I am thirsty again.”
“It is bush tea,” said Mma Ramotswe as she reached for the tea-pot. “Mma Makutsi-my assistant-and I drink bush tea because it helps us to think.”
Mma Holonga raised her refilled cup to her lips and drained it noisily.
“I shall buy bush tea instead of ordinary tea,” she said. “I shall put honey in it and drink it every day.”
“That would be a very good thing to do,” said Mma Ramotswe. “But what about this husband business? What happened?”
Mma Holonga frowned. “It is very difficult for me,” she said. “When word got round, then I received many telephone calls. Ten, twenty calls. And they were all from men.”
Mma Ramotswe raised an eyebrow. “That is a large number of men,” she said.
Mma Holonga nodded. “Of course, I realised that some of them were no good right there and then. One even telephoned from the prison and the telephone was snatched away from him. And one was only a boy, about thirteen or fourteen, I think. But I agreed to see the others, and from these I ended up with a list of four.”
“That is a good number to choose from,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Not too large a list of men, but not too small.”
Mma Holonga seemed pleased by this. She looked at Mma Ramotswe uncertainly. “You do not think it strange to have a list, Mma? Some of my friends…”
Mma Ramotswe raised a hand to interrupt her. Many of her clients referred to advice from friends, and in her experience this advice was often wrong. Friends tried to be helpful, but tended to misadvise, largely because they had unrealistic ideas of what the friend whom they were advising was really like. Mma Ramotswe believed that it was usually better to seek the advice of a stranger-not just any stranger, of course, as one could hardly go out onto the street and confide in the first person one encountered, but a stranger whom you knew to be wise. We do not talk about wise men or wise ladies any more, she reflected; their place had been taken, it seemed, by all sorts of shallow people-actors and the like-who were only too ready to pronounce on all sorts of subjects. It was worse, she thought, in other countries, but it was beginning to happen in Botswana and she did not like it. She, for one, would never pay any attention to the views of such people; she would far rather listen to a person who had done something real in life; these people knew what they were talking about.
“I’m not sure if you should worry too much about what your friends think, Mma,” she said. “I think that it is a good idea to have a list. What is the difference between a list of things to buy at a shop, or a list of things to do, and a list of men? I do not see the difference.”
“I am glad that you think that,” said Mma Holonga. “In fact, I have been glad to hear everything that you have said.”
Mma Ramotswe was always embarrassed by compliments, and rapidly went on.
“You must tell me about this list,” she said. “And you must tell me about what you want me to do.”
“I want you to find out about these men,” said Mma Holonga. “I want you to see which men are interested in my money and which are interested in me.”
Mma Ramotswe clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, this is the sort of work I like,” she said. “Judging men! Men are always looking at women and judging them. Now we have the chance to do some judging back. Oh, this is a very good case to take on.”
“I can pay you very well,” said Mma Holonga, reaching for the large black handbag she had placed by the side of her chair. “If you tell me how much it will cost, I shall pay it.”
“I shall send you a bill,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That is what we do. Then you can pay me for my time.” She paused. “But first, you must tell me about these men, Mma. I shall need some information on them. Then I shall set to work.”
Mma Holonga sat back in her seat. “I am happy to talk about men, Mma. And now I shall begin with the first of these men.”
Mma Ramotswe looked into her tea cup. It was still half-full of bush tea. That would be enough to see her through one man, perhaps, but not four. So she reached forward, picked up the tea-pot, and offered to fill Mma Holonga’s cup before attending to her own. That was the old Botswana way of doing things, and that is how Mma Ramotswe behaved. Modern people could say what they liked, but nobody had ever come up with a better way of doing things and in Mma Ramotswe’s view nobody ever would.
