“Mma,” began Mma Ramotswe, “I have found out something that makes me very happy.”
“Oh yes?” asked Poppy.
“Yes. I have found out that the Mercedes-Benz you gave to the reverend is being put to very good use.”
“I know that,” said Poppy. “It is doing the work of the Lord up in Maun. Or somewhere up there.”
Mma Ramotswe shook her head. “No, Mma, it is doing good work far closer to home. He has given it to a young woman—a very attractive young woman. She is driving round in it right here in Gaborone.”
Poppy frowned. “I don’t think so, Mma. The reverend told me—it is out in a remote area doing work there.”
Mma Ramotswe sighed. “I’m afraid not, Mma. It is being used by that young woman over there. You see her? Right next to the reverend? He is being very kind to her. He visits her most days, I believe—trying to save her, of course—and he has given her the car for her own use. For getting to work and going shopping too, I think. She has some very nice clothes, and she needs to go off and buy those. A silver Mercedes-Benz is ideal for that sort of thing, you know.”
Poppy listened to this in silence. She pursed her lips. She looked down at the ground, and then up at the sky. Mma Ramotswe reached out and took her hand—the hand of an old friend.
* * *
—
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT happened rather quickly. Mma Ramotswe found Mma Potokwane helping herself to a plateful of sausages from one of the barbecue pits.
“I am helping myself,” explained the matron. “After all, don’t they say that the Lord helps those who help themselves?”
“They do,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And I think that it is probably true. But, Mma, I have something very important to tell you.”
Mma Potokwane listened gravely as Mma Ramotswe outlined her exchanges with Mma Boko and Poppy. As the tale lengthened and its full implications became clear, she looked around for a table on which to put down her plate of untouched sausages. “This is very shocking, Mma,” she said, wiping sausage fat from her fingers.
“It is the way the world is,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I think this sort of thing is going on all the time.”
Mma Potokwane straightened the front of her blouse. It was such a gesture as might be made by one setting out for battle—a girding of the chest, a readiness to carry the banner. “I am ready, Mma Ramotswe. I am going to have a word with the reverend.”
“Be careful, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe.
“Ha!” snorted Mma Potokwane.
“He has many admirers here,” cautioned Mma Ramotswe.
“Ha!” Mma Potokwane repeated.
Mma Ramotswe watched in fascination as Mma Potokwane strode across the clearing to the place where the reverend was standing, surrounded by a small coterie of ladies. She watched as Mma Potokwane elbowed her way past these women and took the reverend firmly by the arm, leading him away from the circle. Then she watched as the reverend was addressed by Mma Potokwane, who gestured firmly as she spoke, jabbing one index finger into his chest while shaking the other one directly under his nose. The reverend, cowed, took a step backwards, only to be immediately advanced upon by Mma Potokwane. A further step back led to a fresh and even more intrusive advance.
It only took ten minutes, and then Mma Potokwane returned to Mma Ramotswe and her plate of sausages. The matron was smiling broadly.
“Well?” asked Mma Ramotswe.
“Simple,” said Mma Potokwane. “All solved.”
Mma Ramotswe was wide-eyed.
“Yes,” Mma Potokwane said. “He’s like many men like that. Lots of hot air and no muscle. No backbone either. One push and they fall to bits.”
“And?”
“Well, I told him that we knew what he was up to. I told him that unless he took certain steps right now, today, then I would be clapping my hands and addressing everybody present. I would tell them that the Lord had spoken to me about the Reverend Flat Ponto and instructed me to tell them all about some of his part-time activities.”
Mma Ramotswe began to smile.
“Yes,” Mma Potokwane went on. “I told him that there were certain things he could do. He could restore to Poppy everything he had taken from her, including the silver Mercedes-Benz. Then he could tell Nametso that he was going back to his wife and that she was to go and see her mother without delay—and be kind to her again, as a daughter should be. I think that young woman will still do anything for that man, and so I suspect she will obey.”
Mma Ramotswe wondered whether he would comply.
“Oh, he will, Mma,” said Mma Potokwane. “I gave him half an hour to do these things. I also told him that he should watch his step in future, as we would be keeping an eye on him. I told him there was to be no further taking advantage of the members of his church.”
“And do you really think he will do that?” asked Mma Ramotswe.
Mma Potokwane thought for a few moments. “I think he will,” she said. “There’s a reason why that man will do as I ask.”
Mma Ramotswe waited to hear it.
“I only realised it today,” said Mma Potokwane. “It came back to me. Flat Ponto was one of our children—a long time ago.”
Mma Ramotswe expressed amazement. “A graduate of the Orphan Farm?”
“Yes,” said Mma Potokwane. “I had forgotten about him, but then I remembered. And so I am sure that he will do as I tell him, Mma. And anyway, he was very ashamed when he saw it was me.”
“I can imagine,” said Mma Ramotswe.
“I think he might behave better in future,” Mma Potokwane concluded. “I have seen something today.”
“And what was that, Mma?” asked Mma Ramotswe.
Mma Potokwane pointed to a group of women standing under a tree. “There is a woman over there who has lost her husband. I happen to know about her—she lives in Tlokweng.”
Mma Ramotswe waited. “That woman over there, Mma? The thin one?”
“That’s her, Mma. And I saw him with her a short while ago. I saw how kind he was being to her. He went over to speak to her, and I watched him reach into his pocket and give her money. That woman is very poor, Mma. He gave her some money—I saw it happen.”
“So he is a kind man, Mma?”
Mma Potokwane smiled. “I think he is. And that’s the biggest thing in my view, Mma Ramotswe—kindness. He’s a kind man who is also a bit weak…But then, what men aren’t a bit weak, Mma Ramotswe?”