Bush tea and the sniffles with Mma Ramotswe
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Ugh! I had just been boasting to Greg that I hadn’t had a cold in a long time when whammo. The Theophany troparion hadn’t left my mind before some nasty germs decided to take up residence in my poor old body. As things have progressed, my head has gotten stuffier and my voice has gotten lower and huskier. Yesterday I was Suzanne Pleshette. Today I’m just a lush who smokes cigars.Definitely a time to hole up in the den and try to recover a little humanity. So the room heater goes on in the den (bringing the dog from anywhere in the house to plop directly in front of it). An afternoon pot of tea gets brewed up — something special, I think. This is a job for the intense orange-spice Russian tea that I bought in Alaska — a tea of such a strident pungency that I’ve had to store it in a heavy glass container just to keep all my more delicate teas from smelling like cinnamon and cloves.
And the book to read? Well, it just has to be one of “The Number One Ladies’ Detective Agency” books. I’m up to the sixth in this series — “In the Company of Cheerful Ladies” — but as those who have read the books know, it doesn’t matter all that much which one you read. They’re all good, they’re all pleasant, they’re all meant to be read and savored like a visit with a friend or a good cup of tea.
For those who haven’t read them, the books detail the comings and goings of Precious Ramotswe, a woman in Botswana who comes into a small inheritance and decides to open a detective agency. That could make the series like something on the PBS’ show “Mystery” except … well, it’s just not. Mma Ramotswe — all the women are referred to as ‘Mma’ — doesn’t generally deal with the kinds of major mysteries solved by Hercule Poirot, or even Hettie Wainthrop. You might have an entire book where the most difficult problem anyone brings to her is whether an employee of theirs is stealing or not, or whether Mma Ramotswe’s good husband, Mr. J. L. B. Matekoni will follow through with the parachute jump he promised to do to benefit the orphanage. Other things might happen, other characters might go through different things, but in the end if someone asked you want the book was about, you may really not be able to say.
Or you might say what you could say for all of the books in this series, “It’s about Africa (or at least Botswana). And goodness. And happiness.” The Scottish author, Alexander McCall Smith, was born in Zimbabwe and taught at the University of Botswana, so he obviously knows the way things feel and the way people talk in Africa. And besides these details, there’s a pacing to things that is distinctly non-European.
But I can save words. Here’s the opening paragraph of “In the Company of Cheerful Ladies”:
Mma Ramotswe was sitting alone in her favourite cafe, on the edge of the shopping centre at the Gaborone end of the Tlokweng Road. It was a Saturday, the day that she preferred above all others, a day on which one might do as much or as little as one liked, a day to have lunch with a friend at the President Hotel, or, as on that day, to sit by oneself and think about the events of the week and the state of the world. This cafe was a good place to be, for several reasons. Firstly, there was the view, that of a stand of eucalyptus trees with foliage of a comforting dark green which made a sound like the sea through the leaves. Or that, at least, was the sound which Mma Ramotswe imagined the sea to make. She had never seen the ocean, wich was far away from land-locked Botswana; far away across the deserts of Namibia, across the red sands and the dry mountains. But she could imagine it when she listened to the eucalyptus trees in the wind and closed her eyes. Perhaps one day she would see it, and would stand on the shore and let the waves wash over her feet. Perhaps.
If your response to that paragraph is “Huh. Does the pace pick up later on?” then you don’t need to bother getting any of these books. Because it doesn’t really. Even when there are big jobs, life-changing decisions and cobras in the office, the storytelling is as gentle and unhurried as one of Mma Ramotswe’s frequent tea-breaks with her favorite bush tea.
If your response to the paragraph, on the other hand, is “How can I go to that place?” your path is clear. There are eight in the series. They’re all good.
Oops. My tea is cold. I’ve got to go. Mma Ramotswe would understand.
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7 Responses and Counting...
Aw, poor booboo! You’re right; a gentle book, tea strong enough to register on virus-deadened senses, and the prospect of good chicken soup later on. Oh, and a really squishy cuddly warm blanket on the sofa. Feel better!
I do already just from reading that comment. I made some good chicken soup yesterday, and I’m contemplating thickening some of it up and putting it over egg noodles. Never too tired to improvise high-carb possibilities!
I’ve been sick this week too and its no fun. I’m not Suzanne Pleshette yet, but I can feel it coming. Probably by Sunday I’ll be singing with the Basso-Profundos in the choir.
I loved the Mma Romotswe series, but stopped after the 4th book.
Sorry to hear about your cold — it’s the time of year, I guess. I think my voice is sort of on its way back up today. I may be Lauren Bacsll.
I think the books are great, but I also understand taking a break from them. I stopped reading them until this Christmas, when I wanted to catch up.
That is so high on the list of things to not say, urg. I hope that you are feeling better. I am on book three, but I have four in my “to read” pile, which as you know is pretty high!
My husband and I found these were perfect to listen to in the car. He can doze for a while and not miss too much, but while he is awake he is perfectly charmed.
My husband saw the HBO show with me and was likewise charmed. I never would’ve thought he would have liked to read the books, but after spending a little time in Mma. Ramotswe’s Botswana, he wants to start reading.