Executive Times
		2005 Book Reviews
		In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander Mc Call Smith
		Rating: ••• (Recommended)
		Click on title or picture to buy from amazon.com
	Choices Precious Ramotswe returns in Alexander McCall Smith’s latest novel in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, In the Company of Cheerful Ladies. A shadow from the past reenters Mma Ramotswe’s life and her usual cheery mood turns dark for a while. By the end, all is well. I perked up every time Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi sat down for tea, because the tea and the conversation was always refreshing. Here’s my favorite tea excerpt, from the end of Chapter 4, “Tea Issues,” pp. 38-43: They had a great deal of work to do that day. A few days previously, they had received a letter from a firm of lawyers in Zambia, asking them to help in the tracing of a Lusaka financier who had disappeared. The circumstances of his disappearance were suspicious: there was a large hole in the company’s finances and the natural conclusion was that he had taken the money. This was not the sort of matter with which Mma Ramotswe normally liked to concern herself; the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency preferred to deal with more domestic matters, but it was a matter of professional honour that no client would be turned away, unless, of course, they deserved to be. And there was also the question of money This sort of work paid well, and there were overheads to be taken into account—Mma Makutsi’s salary, the cost of running the tiny white van, and postage, to name just a few of the items that seemed to consume so much of the profits each month. The financier was believed to be in Botswana, where he had relatives. Of course they were the first people who should be approached, but who were they? The lawyers had been unable to provide names, and this would mean that Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi would have to make enquiries amongst Zambians in Gaborone. That sounded simple enough, but it was not always easy to get foreigners to talk about their fellow citizens, especially if one of them was in trouble. They knew that it was wrong to close ranks, especially when it was a question of embezzled funds, but they did it nonetheless. So there were many telephone calls to be made to see if anybody was prepared to throw light on the case. There were also letters to hotels, asking them if they recognised the person in the photograph which they now sent them. All of this was time-consuming, and they worked solidly until ten o’clock, when Mma Ramotswe, having just finished an unsatisfactory telephone call to a rather rude Zambian woman, put down the receiver, stretched her arms wide, and announced that it was time for morning tea. Mma Makutsi agreed. “I have written letters now to ten hotels,” she said, taking a sheet out of her typewriter, “and my head is sore from thinking about missing Zambians. I am looking forward to a cup of tea.” “I will make it,” offered Mma Ramotswe. “You have been working very hard, while I have just been talking on the telephone. You deserve a rest.” Mma Makutsi looked embarrassed. “That is very kind, Mma. But I was thinking of making tea in a different way this morning.” Mma Ramotswe looked at her assistant in astonishment. “In a different way? How can you make bush tea in a different way? Surely there is only one way to make tea—you put the tea leaves in the tea-pot and then you put in the water. What are you going to do? Put the water in first? Is that the different way you have in mind?” Mma Makutsi rose to her feet, picking up the parcel which she had placed on her desk when she arrived. Mma Ramotswe had not noticed this, as it had been behind a pile of files. Now she looked at it with curiosity. “What is that, Mma?” Mma Ramotswe asked. “Is it something to do with this new way of making tea?” Mma Makutsi did not reply, but unwrapped the parcel and exposed a new china tea-pot, which she held up to Mma Ramotswe’s gaze. “Ah!” exclaimed Mma Ramotswe. “That is a very fine tea-pot, Mma! Look at it! Look at the flowers on the side. That is very fine. Our bush tea will taste very good if it is brewed in so handsome a tea-pot!” Mma Makutsi looked down at her shoes, but there was no help from that quarter; there never was. In tight moments, she had noticed, her shoes tended to say: You’re on your own, Boss! She had known all along that this would be awkward, but she had decided that sooner or later she would have to take this issue up with Mma Ramotswe and it could not be put off any longer. “Well, Mma,” she began. “Well. . She paused. It was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. She looked at Mma Ramotswe, who stared back at her expectantly “I am looking forward to the tea,” said Mma Ramotswe helpfully Mma Makutsi swallowed. “I will not be making bush tea,” she blurted out. “I mean, I will make bush tea for you, as usual, but I want to make my own tea, ordinary tea, in this pot. Just for me. Ordinary tea. You can drink bush tea and I will drink ordinary tea.” After she had finished speaking, there was a complete silence. Mma Ramotswe sat quite still in her chair, her eyes fixed on the china tea-pot. Mma Makutsi, who had been holding the pot up as if it were a battle standard, a standard for the ranks of those who preferred ordinary tea to bush tea, now lowered it and put it down on her desk. “I’m sorry, Mma,” said Mma Makutsi. “I’m very sorry. I do not want you to think that I am a rude person. I am not. But I have tried and tried to like bush tea and now I must speak what is in my heart. And my heart says that I have preferred ordinary tea all along. That is why I bought this special tea-pot.” Mma Ramotswe listened carefully, and then she spoke. “I am the one who should say sorry, Mma. No, it is me. I am the one. I have been the rude person all along. I have never asked you whether you would prefer to drink ordinary tea. I never bothered to ask you, but I have bought bush tea and expected you to like it. I am very sorry, Mma.” “You have not been rude,” protested Mma Makutsi. “I should have told you. I am the one who is at fault here.” It was all very complicated. Mma Makutsi had switched from bush tea to ordinary tea some time ago, and then she had gone back to bush tea again. Mma Ramotswe felt confused: What did Mma Makutsi really want when it came to tea? “No,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You have been very patient with me, drinking all that bush tea just for my sake. I should have seen it. I should have seen it in your face. I did not. I am very sorry, M ma.” “But I didn’t dislike it all that much,” said Mma Makutsi. “I did not make a face when I drank it. If I had made a face, then you might have noticed it. But I did not. I was happy enough drinking it—it’s just that I shall be even happier when I am drinking ordinary tea.” Mma Ramotswe nodded. “Then we shall have different tea,” she said. “Just as we did in the past. I have my tea, and you have yours. That is the solution to this difficult problem.” “Exactly,” said Mma Makutsi. She thought for a moment. What about Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and the apprentices? They had all been drinking bush tea, but now that there was a choice, should they be offered ordinary tea? And if they were, then would they want to drink it out of her tea-pot? She would not mind sharing her new tea-pot with Mr J.L.B. Matekoni—nobody would mind that—but sharing with the apprentices was another matter altogether. She decided to voice her concerns to Mma Ramotswe. “What about MrJ.L.B. Matekoni?” she asked. “Will he drink.. .“ “Bush tea,” said Mma Ramotswe quickly. “That is the best tea for a man. It is well-known. He will drink bush tea.” “And the apprentices?” Mma Ramotswe rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Perhaps they should have bush tea too,” she said. “Although, heaven knows, it’s not doing them much good.” With those decisions made, Mma Makutsi put on the kettle and, watched by Mma Ramotswe, she ladled into the new tea-pot a quantity of her tea, her ordinary tea. Then she fetched Mma Ramotswe’s tea-pot, which looked distinctly battered beside the fine new china tea-pot, and into this she put the correct quantity of bush tea. They waited for the kettle to boil, each of them silent, each of them alone with her thoughts. Mma Makutsi was thinking with relief of the generous response that Mma Ramotswe had shown to her confession, which seemed so like an act of disloyalty, of treachery even. Her employer had made it so easy that she felt a flood of gratitude for her. Mma Ramotswe was undoubtedly one of the finest women in all Botswana. Mma Makutsi had always known this, but here was another instance which spoke to those qualities of understanding and sympathy And for her part, Mma Ramotswe thought of what a loyal, fine woman was Mma Makutsi. Other employees would have complained, or moaned about drinking tea they did not like, but she had said nothing. And more than that, she had given the impression that she was enjoying what was given to her, as a polite guest will eat or drink what is laid upon the host’s table. This was further evidence of those very qualities which obviously had been revealed at the Botswana Secretarial College and which had resulted in her astonishingly high marks. Mma Makutsi was surely a gem. Smith continues to deepen the development of the characters in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, and with In the Company of Cheerful Ladies, even ordinary tea becomes exceptional. Steve Hopkins, May 25, 2005
Buy @ amazon.com			Go To Hopkins & Company Homepage
Go to 2005 Book Shelf			Go to Executive Times Archives
	ã 2005 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for this book appeared in the June 2005 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/In the Company of Cheerful Ladies.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 Phone: 708-466-4650 • Fax: 708-386-8687 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com www.hopkinsandcompany.com