The Kalahari Typing School For Men

CHAPTER TWO

LIFE AT Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors (and, indeed, at the No. 1

Ladies’ Detective Agency) was returning to normal. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had resumed his old practice of coming in to work shortly before seven in the morning, and would already be prostrate on his inspection board shining a torch up into a car’s underbelly by the time the two apprentices arrived at eight o’clock. Their contract of apprenticeship stipulated that they should work eight hours a day, with time off for study every three months, but Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had given up expecting them to comply with this. Certainly they arrived at eight and left at five, which made nine hours each day, but from this total there was deducted an hour for lunch, and two tea breaks of forty-five minutes each. It was the tea breaks that were the problem, but any attempt to insist on a far shorter break had been met with sullen resistance. Eventually he had given up; he was a generous man and did not like conflict.

“You may have it easy here,” he had warned them on more than one occasion, “but don’t think that all bosses are like this. When you finish your apprenticeship-if you finish-then you’ll have to find another job, a real job, and you’ll learn all about it then.”

“Learn about what, boss?” asked the older apprentice, smiling conspiratorially at his friend.

“About the working world,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “About what it’s like to be kept really hard at it.”

The older apprentice rolled his eyes in mock horror. “But you’ll keep us on here, won’t you, boss? You couldn’t do without us, could you?”

The arrival of Mma Makutsi as acting manager of the garage had brought about a change, even if the long tea breaks survived. She had quickly shown that she would take no nonsense from the two apprentices, and they had rapidly abandoned their slovenly ways. Mma Ramotswe had been unable to work out what lay behind the change, so dramatic was it; she had assumed that it was something to do with working for a woman, which may have encouraged them to show what they could do, but she had eventually thought that it was something deeper than that. Certainly the two boys had wanted to impress her, but it seemed, too, that she had instilled in them a real pride in their work. Now, with Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni back in the garage, both Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi were anxious to see whether the change would prove to be permanent.

“Those two boys are much better,” remarked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni shortly after his return. “They’re still a bit lazy, which is probably just their nature, and they still talk endlessly about girls, which may also be their nature, come to think of it. But I think that their work is much neater… much less… less…”

“Greasy?” prompted Mma Ramotswe.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “That’s it. They used to be so messy, as you know, but now that’s all changed. And they’re also not so brutal with the engines. They seem to have learned something while I was away.”

And there were further changes-changes of which Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni as yet had no inkling. It was Mma Ramotswe, in fact, who first became aware that something had happened, and she sought confirmation from Mma Makutsi before she made any remark to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. Mma Makutsi was astonished; she had been too busy to have noticed, she remarked in her defence, otherwise she would surely have picked up something like that. Now, after she had spoken discreetly to Charlie, the elder of the two apprentices, she was able to confirm Mma Ramotswe’s suspicions.

“You’re right,” she said. “The younger one has heard about the Lord. And he was the one who was by far the worst with the girls-always going on about them, remember-and now there he is, joined up to one of those marching churches. The Lord told him to do it, Charlie said. He’s surprised, too. He’s very disappointed that he doesn’t seem to be too keen to talk about girls anymore. Charlie doesn’t like that.”

The news was passed on to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, who sighed. These apprentices were a mystery to him, and he looked forward to the day when they would be off his hands, if that day were ever to come. Life had become much more complicated for him, and he was not sure whether he liked it that way. In the past it had been simple: he had been alone at the garage and had only himself to worry about. Now there were Mma Makutsi, the two apprentices, and Mma Ramotswe, and that was even before one took into account the two orphans whose fostering he had arranged. That had been a very rash act on his part, although it was not one which he really regretted. The children were so happy staying in Mma Ramotswe’s house on Zebra Drive that it would have been churlish beyond measure to begrudge them that. But, even then, to go from being responsible for one person, himself, to being responsible for seven was a step which might daunt any man, no matter how broad his shoulders.

While Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni imagined that he was responsible for others, they imagined that they were responsible for him. Mma Makutsi, for example, had taken her role within the garage with immense seriousness. She had changed the system of bookkeeping and had improved the flow of cash; she had conducted a full inventory of stock and had listed all spare parts held in the storeroom, and she had sorted out the fuel receipts, which had been allowed to get into a terrible state. All of this was an achievement, she knew, but she was still worried. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency did not make a large profit, even if it did at least make some money. The garage did better, but the apprentices’ wages were a major drain on that side of the business. If they wanted to prosper, particularly when bank charges were going up, they would just have to find more business, or-and this she found an intriguing possibility-they would have to diversify. It had been a challenge to take on responsibility for a garage; why not take on something else as well? For a moment she felt quite dizzy, contemplating the possibility of a sprawling business. Factories, farms, stores-all of these were possible if one only tried. But where would one start? The marriage of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency to Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors had been a natural development, following on the engagement of the owners of the two concerns; finding something entirely new might be rather more difficult.

The idea came to Mma Makutsi one morning when she was preparing a cup of bush tea. Mma Ramotswe was out shopping and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had driven off to look at a car which he had offered to sell on behalf of an old client. It was not much of a car, he had told her, but he regarded himself as responsible for his clients’ cars from birth to death, so to speak, as an old-fashioned doctor would see his patients through life’s journey. She took the freshly brewed tea into the garage workshop, where the two apprentices were sitting on a couple of upturned oil drums, watching a thin stray dog nose about the entrance to the garage.

“You look very busy,” said Mma Makutsi.

The older apprentice looked up at her resentfully. “It’s our tea break, Mma. Same as yours. We can’t work all the time.”

Mma Makutsi nodded. She was not interested in giving the apprentices one of the periodic dressings-down that had proved to be so effective while Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was away; she wanted their reaction to her idea.

“I’ve thought of a new thing for the business to do,” she announced, taking a sip of her bush tea. “I wondered what you would think.”

“You are a lady who is full of ideas,” said the younger apprentice. “Your head must hurt, Mma.”

Mma Makutsi smiled. “Only hard ideas make your head hurt. My ideas are always simple.”

“I have simple ideas, too,” said the older apprentice. “I have ideas of girls. Those are my ideas. Simple. Girls, and then more girls.”

Mma Makutsi ignored this, addressing her next remark to the younger apprentice. “There are many people wanting to learn how to drive, are there not?”

The younger apprentice shrugged. “They can learn. There are lots of bush roads for them to practise on.”

“But that won’t help them drive in town,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. “There are too many things happening in town. There are cars going this way and that. There are people crossing the road.”

“And lots of girls,” interjected the older apprentice. “Lots of girls walking about. All the time.”

The younger apprentice turned to look at his friend. “What is wrong with you? You are always thinking of girls.”

“So are you,” snapped the other. “Anyone who says he does not think of girls is a liar. All men think of girls. That is what men like to do.”

“Not all the time,” said the younger one. “There are other things to think about.”

“That is not true,” the older one retorted. “If you didn’t think about girls, then it is a sign that you are about to die. That is a well-known fact.”

“I am not interested in any of this,” said Mma Makutsi. “And, anyway, I’d heard that one of you has changed.” She paused, looking at the younger one for confirmation; but he merely lowered his eyes.

“So,” she continued, “I will tell you of an idea that I have had. I think that it is a good idea and I would like to hear what you think of it.”

“You can tell us,” said the older apprentice. “We are listening to what you have to say.”

Mma Makutsi dropped her voice, as if there were eavesdroppers in the darker corners of the garage. The apprentices leaned forward to catch her words. “I have decided that we should open a driving school,” she announced. “I will make some enquiries, but I do not think that there are enough driving schools. We could start a new one and give people a lesson after work. We could charge forty pula a time. Twenty pula could go to the teacher and twenty pula to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni for the garage and for using his car. It would be a great success.”

The apprentices stared at her, and for a few moments nothing was said. Then the older one spoke.

“I do not want to have anything to do with it,” he said. “After work I like to go to see my friends. I do not have time to take people for driving lessons.”

Mma Makutsi looked at his friend. “And you?”

The younger apprentice smiled back at her. “You are a very clever lady, Mma. I think that this is a good idea.”

“There!” said Mma Makutsi, turning to the older apprentice. “You see, your friend here has a more positive way of looking at things. You are just useless. Look what all that thinking about girls has done to your brain.”

The younger apprentice smirked. “You hear that? Mma Makutsi is right. You should listen to her.” He turned to Mma Makutsi. “What will you call this driving school, Mma?”

“I have not thought about it,” she said. “I will think of something. The name you give to a business is very important. That is why the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency has been a success. The name says everything you need to know about the business.”

The younger apprentice looked up at her hopefully. “I have a good idea for the name,” he said. “We could call it Learn to Drive with Jesus.”

There was a silence. The older apprentice cast a glance in the direction of his friend and then turned away.

“I am not sure about that,” said Mma Makutsi. “I will think about it, but I am not sure.”

“It is a very good name,” said the younger apprentice. “It will attract a careful class of driver, and it will mean that we have no accidents. The Lord will look after us.

“I hope so,” said Mma Makutsi. “I shall talk to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni about it and see what he thinks. Thank you for the suggestion.”