She travelled down in her tiny white van on a Saturday morning, setting off early, as she liked to do on any trip. As she left the town, there were already streams of people coming in for a Saturday's shopping. It was the end of the month, which meant payday, and the shops would be noisy and crowded as people bought their large jars of syrup and beans, or splashed out on the coveted new dress or shoes. Mma Ramotswe liked shopping, but she never shopped around payday. Prices went up then, she was convinced, and went down again towards the middle of the month, when nobody had any money. 

Most of the traffic on the road consisted of buses and vans bringing people in. But there were a few going in the opposite direction-workers from town heading off for a weekend back in their villages; men going back to their wives and children; women working as maids in Gaborone going back to spend their precious days of leisure with their parents and grandparents. Mma Ramotswe slowed down; there was a woman standing at the side of the road, waving her hand to request a lift. She was a woman of about Mma Ramotswe's age, dressed smartly in a black skirt and a bright red jersey. Mma Ramotswe hesitated, and then stopped. She could not leave her standing there; somewhere there would be a family waiting for her, counting on a motorist to bring their mother home.

She drew to a halt, and called out of the window of her van. "Where are you going, Mma?"

"I am going down that way," said the woman, pointing down the road. "Just beyond Molepolole. I am going to Silokwolela."

Mma Ramotswe smiled. "I am going there too," she said. "I can take you all the way."

The woman let out a whoop of delight. "You are very kind, and I am a very lucky person."

She reached down for the plastic bag in which she was carrying her possessions and opened the passenger door of Mma Ramotswe's van.