authorities had given proper thought to the matter. She clearly understood how demanding his job was, and how vital. He could not be severe with her; firm, yes, but not severe. She was a sort of auntie, really, and he would treat her with the courtesy with which an auntie should be treated.
The instruction to go away was rescinded. “I’m sorry, Mma, I didn’t mean that you should go away right now—I did not mean that.”
Mma Ramotswe was gracious. “I could tell that you didn’t, Rra. I could see that you were not the sort of officer to tell a lady to go away just like that when all she wanted to do was to speak to somebody.”
Officer! He had served for four years in the Botswana Defence Force and knew that the term officer should not be used lightly. He had been promoted to corporal and had served honourably in that role in the days when that great man, General Khama, had been there, and the general had once singled him out for praise. He had said, “That NCO is doing good work,” and the reference had been to him; there was no doubt about that because the general had been pointing at him as he spoke the words. His platoon commander had heard them, and nodded in his direction—a nod of encouragement and congratulation. That was not the sort of thing one easily forgets. That NCO is doing good work.
“No, Mma, I did not mean go away right now. I meant you cannot stay there, but you need not go immediately.”
“Thank you, Rra. And can I speak to the person I want to speak to?”
That was another matter—not one in which discretion could be exercised. “That is more difficult, Mma. They…” He cast his eyes up towards the top floor of the building, where dwelt the senior management. “They don’t allow that, Mma. This building, you see, is very secure. Even now they are watching us with their cameras. All the time, there are people watching, watching.”
“They have to be careful,” said Mma Ramotswe. “If nobody was watching, then what would happen? There would be people coming around all the time hoping to pick up a few diamonds.”
He nodded his agreement. “Exactly, Mma. That is why we have these rules.” He paused. “Could you tell me who this person is? Perhaps I could leave a note for him.”
“It is a her,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Her name is Nametso. She is one of the sorters. She is the daughter of an old friend of mine, Calviniah, from the old days in Mochudi.”
The guard relaxed even more. “Mochudi,” he said, savouring the word in his mouth, lingering over it, as one might a culinary treat. “I had an uncle who lived there. He was a porter in the hospital. He worked with Dr. Moffat back in those days.”
Mma Ramotswe clapped her hands together. “Dr. Moffat, Rra! My father knew Dr. Moffat—and I did too. Mrs. Moffat—I used to visit her when she lived in the Village here in Gaborone.”
The guard shook his head with pleasure at the memory, and at the connection this conversation had established.
“My uncle said that Dr. Moffat never lost his temper with anybody. Sometimes a doctor or a nurse could do that, you know. But he did not. He just said, ‘Please don’t do that,’ or, ‘That’s not a good thing to do.’ Something like that.”
Mma Ramotswe nodded. “That is often the best way of dealing with such things,” she said. “I have heard people say that you don’t change others by shouting at them.”
The security guard hesitated. In his days in the Botswana Defence Force he had done a great deal of shouting. Indeed, he had enjoyed a reputation of having one of the loudest voices in the entire army, but he was younger then, and you might change your views as you became older and more aware of the complexities of the world. And so he said, “That is very right, Mma. You do not change people in that way.”
It was a pity, he thought. There were so many who were crying out to be changed and who would benefit from a few pieces of advice delivered at maximum volume. It was a pity.
“This Nametso,” he said. “I think I know her. I know all the sorters because they are given permits to park in this car park. There is only one of them called Nametso.”
Mma Ramotswe listened. “So you know