“I saw you there, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni,” said Mma Potokwane, as her visitor entered her room. “I saw you give sweets to that child. That child is cunning. He knows you are a kind man.”

“I am not a kind man,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “I am an ordinary mechanic.”

Mma Potokwane laughed. “You are not an ordinary mechanic. You are the best mechanic in Botswana! Everybody knows that.”

“No,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “Only you think that.”

Mma Potokwane shook her head vigorously. “Then why does the British High Commissioner take his car to you? There are many big garages in Botswana who would like to service a car like that. But he still goes to you. Always.”

“I cannot say why,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “But I think that he is a good man and likes to go to a small garage.” He was too modest to accept her praise, and yet he was aware of his reputation. Of course, if people knew about his apprentices, and how bad they were, they might think differently of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, but the apprentices were not going to be there forever. In fact, they were due to complete their training in a couple of months and that would be the end of them. How peaceful it would be once they had moved on! How comfortable it would be not to have to think of the damage that they were doing to the cars entrusted to him. It would be a new freedom for him; a release from a worry which hung about his shoulders each day. He had done his best to train them properly, and they had picked up something over the years, but they were impatient, and that was a fatal flaw in the personality of any mechanic. Donkeys and cars required patience.