Book Review Part 1

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith 

 

The author of The No. 1 Ladies Detective is a white Zimbabwean which may not make a difference since Botswana has never experienced racial discrimination of any sort. Many Batswana have no concept of racial  oppression, racism or racial prejudice because their history is a peaceful one, free of war and extreme conflict. I guess specifying the author's "skin color" is my way of imposing my own perspective onto the history of Batswana. Although, I try not to, it is extremely difficult for me to not filter my reality according to race. Anywho, I will be doing a mini review on each chapter and the timing is perfect. 

I am so glad that I started reading this book

one month after I arrived in Botswana. Since I am literally in the book's setting, the storyline has more impact on me as a reader. The

language and the customs are all around me. I understand the use of Rra  and Mma and Rre and Mme and can relate to certain decisions the writer made. I understand the purpose of inserting Setswana words where there would be no English equivalent, the visual significance of certain locations (i.e., Kgale Hill, Mochudi, Gaborone, etc.) and why weddings or funerals happened on a Saturday. None of these decisions were accidents or coincidence. Some things are a bit shocking but I believe I am in a good position to gain immediate understanding. I can always use my host family, professors and Batswana friends as cultural references. I can also utilize my own experiences in Botswana. See the reflections below:

Chapter One: The Daddy

Mma Ramotswe's first case in chapter one was a woman questioning the identity of her house guest. The guest posed as the woman's long lost father and used her for shelter, food, beer and money. Although, she had never met her father, the client knew deep down in her heart that this man could not be him. What stuck out to me was the unassuming nature of this women. She was so trusting and welcoming of a stranger. I think an American would have been more sceptical and hesitant about opening their home to a stranger or anybody for that matter. I think most Americans are just more protective of their material possessions. And maybe not even most Americans. From my experience and observation, I would be willing to help while thinking in the back of my mind "he's trying to get over". Maybe it's a mental thing or a cultural thing but letting someone into your home without questioning their intention is definitely something new to me.

Chapter Two: All Those Years Ago

This chapter captures the story of Mma Ramotswe's father as he was one of many Batswana men who traveled to South Africa to work in the gold mines. Mma Ramotswe's father, Obed Ramotswe spent 15 years in the gold mines. He learned Funagalo as the language of instruction, observed the intentional division of Zulu, Swaziland, Botswana and Malawian workers. And he missed his family constantly. He left the mines after he witnessed a murder at the hands of the Zulus.  After 15 years of work, the abundance of dust in the mines caused his lungs to collapse and he died when Mma Ramotswe was 34. 

Chapter Three: Lessons about Boys and Goats

This is where someone admits to being oppressed and that someone is a woman. She is the big cousin who raised Mma Ramotswe. She tells a story about a silent struggle, one where she is silent about her need for respect. To many in her culture, women are supposed to care after their men even if he is disrespectful, belittling or degrading. Here is one Setswana poem spoken by the cousin which is a poem I have to share. 

" We are the ones who first ploughed the earth when Modise (God) made it. We were the ones who made the food. We are the ones who look after the men when they are little boys, when they are young men, and  when they are old and about to die. We are always there. But we are just women, and nobody sees us"  (pg 34).

In the cousin's case, she was unable to have children. After years of failing to conceive, her husband left her, remarried and then sent her pictures of his new wife and child. After, Mma Romotswe's mother died, she found herself raising her baby cousin and decided to instil within her a sense of empowerment. The struggle to be respected as a woman sounds too familiar. 

**Note**
The setting of this book is from the 1950s through the 1990s. My reflections are based on the stories/ and presented within the book and I am in no way endorsing the content or claiming its validity. I am not agreeing that Batswana women are oppressed in traditional male/female marriages nor am I disagreeing that such oppression is impossible in a traditional African marriage.  I am simply responding to a piece of literate (which is based on my host country) and reflecting on what I read as it was written.