نوت ماکوتی

Chapter two

Note Makoti

Mma Ramotswe grew up in a small village called Mochudi. When she was very young, her mother died in a terrible accident. So a cousin of her father’s came to look after the little girl. The cousin made her clothes, took her to school and cooked meals for Precious and her father.

The cousin wanted Precious to be clever, so she taught her to count. They counted cattle and trees and boys playing in the dust. She helped Precious remember lists of things - the names of people in her family and the names of cattle. When Precious went to school, she knew the letters A-Z and her numbers up to two hundred. She also knew a few words of English.

Every Sunday, Precious went to Sunday school at the church. There she learned about the difference between right and wrong. She understood this very well. It was wrong to lie. It was wrong to steal. It was wrong to kill other people.

When Precious was eight, the cousin got married. Her husband was a good, kind man and he was rich too. He owned two buses. After the wedding, the cousin and her husband went to live in a house sixteen kilometres south of Gaborone. The cousin wrote letters to Precious.

“I know you are missing me. But I know too that you want me to be happy. I am very happy now. I have a kind husband who has bought me wonderful clothes. One day, you will come and stay with me, and we can count the trees again and sing. Now you must look after your father. He is a good man too.

At the age of sixteen, Precious left school. ‘She is the best girl in this school,’ said the Head Teacher. ‘One of the best girls in Botswana.’ Her father wanted her to stay at school, but Precious was bored with the small village of Mochudi. She wanted to go somewhere. She wanted her life to start.

‘You can go to my cousin,’ her father said. ‘That is a different place. You will find lots of things happening in that house.’

He felt sad when he said this. He wanted Precious to stay and look after him, but that was selfish. Precious wanted to be free. She wanted to feel that she was doing something with her life.

Her father was worried about men too. ‘There are a lot of bad men in the world,’ he thought. ‘Perhaps Precious will choose the wrong kind of husband.’

The cousin was pleased to have Precious in the house, and she gave her a bright, comfortable room. Precious was given a job in the office of the bus company. She had to check the numbers in the drivers’ books. Two other men worked there, but Precious worked much harder. They sat at their tables and talked and drank tea. ‘You are working too hard,’ they said. ‘You are trying to take our jobs.’ Precious did not understand. She always worked as hard as she could.

One day she found a mistake of two thousand pula in the company’s books. She showed the mistake to her cousin’s husband. Someone in the company was stealing money. It was one of the men who worked with Precious. The man lost his job. That was the beginning of Mma Ramotswe’s detective work.

Precious worked in the bus company office for four years. Every weekend she travelled up to Mochudi on one of the company’s buses, and visited her father. She told him about her week in the bus office and he told her about his cattle.

One day, on the way back from Mochudi, she met Note Maikoti. Note was wearing a red shirt and he had a proud, handsome face. Next to him on the seat was a music case. When the bus stopped in Gaborone, he got off. This was not her stop, but Precious got off too. Note was standing there, smiling at her.

‘I saw you on that bus,’ he said. He pointed to the case at his feet. ‘I am a musician. I play in the bar at the President Hotel. You can come and listen. I am going there now.’

They walked to the bar and he bought her a drink. She sat at a table at the back. Then he played and she listened. She felt proud that she was his guest. a boyfriend now, a musician.

The following Friday, outside the bar and away from the noise of the drinkers. Note Makoti said, ‘I want to get married soon. You are a nice girl and you will make a good wife. I will speak to your father about this. I hope he will not want a lot of cattle for you. But first I must teach you what wives are for.’

He put his arm round her and moved her back in the soft grass. Then he started to kiss her. ‘Girls must learn this thing.’

‘Has anybody taught you,’ he asked.

She shook her head.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then I will teach you, Right now.’

He hurt her. When she asked him to stop, he hit her across the face. Then he kissed her. He was sorry, he said. But then he hurt her again and hit her hard with his belt.

Note Makoti visited her father three weeks later and asked him for Precious. Her father did not like Note and he did not want Precious to marry him. But Precious wanted to marry Note. He was not a good man, but perhaps she could change him. And there was something more. She felt that Note’s child was deep inside her, like a tiny bird.

After the wedding, Note and Precious lived in Gaborone. Precious went with Note to the bars, and he was kind to her. But he had many friends there who only talked about music. So Precious stopped going to the bars and stayed at home.

One night Note came home late, smelling of beer. He pushed Precious down on the bed and started hitting her with his belt. She cried out, but he was too strong.

‘Don’t hurt the baby.’

‘Baby! Why do you talk about this baby? It is not mine. I am not the father of a baby. I will have to punish you now.’

He hurt her again and she had to go to the hospital. The doctor there gave her medicine for the pain. When she returned home the next day, neither Note nor his music case was there.

Precious went back to Mochudi, to her father. She stayed there, looking after him, for the next fourteen years. When Note’s child was born, it lived for only five days. Her father died soon after her thirty-fourth birthday. She never saw Note again.