men and women cheered, but some of the older men stood back in the shadows and looked on disapprovingly. It was not the place for a woman to be driving about in such a machine, they seemed to be saying. She pulled up in front of her house, set the brake, but left the motor running. Michael said they needed to be charging the battery.
“We will paint it next,” she declared. “I will go to the store and buy a great can of red paint and we will make this a beautiful truck, you will see.”
The men, and a few women, walked around the truck, banging on the side panels, squinting at the interior, kicking the tires, and muttering their approval. Mma Michael and her poor son had performed a miracle for certain.
Sanderson sat down next to him and patted his knee.
“I will need your help on this next thing I must do.”
“To paint?”
“No, no, I will need you to talk to those old men and the others who know hunting. I must find a bad lion and kill it. It is a thing I do not know how to do. They will listen to you. They will do it for you. I am not so sure they will become hunters for me.”
“Mma, you are old-fashioned. They will listen to you.”
“It is not I who am old-fashioned. These men are from the days before. They are not ready to listen to this woman. If you ask, they might.”
“And they might not.”
“Yes, that is so, but if I am the one to ask and I fail the first time, there will be no second. But if you ask, there will always be a chance.”
“Mma, this is not necessary. They must hear you. It is the way, now.”
“Do this favor for me, Michael. I cannot be taking a risk. If they do not go hunting with me, I am lost. Mr. Pako is sure I will fail and will report it. I might lose my employment. You must do this for me, please.”
Michael nodded and signaled to Rra Kaleke, the oldest and therefore the man held in highest esteem in the village, to come over. The old man approached and saluted them.
“ Dumela, Mma, Michael, o tsogile jang ?”
“ Ke teng, Rra Kaleke, tanki. ”
“You wish to speak to me, then?”
“My mother begs you to do a thing for her.”
“What sort of a thing?”
“Her boss, Mr. Pako, requires her to hunt a lion and to kill him.”
“This Pako, he asks this of a woman?”
“Yes. He is sure she cannot do it, and it will be hard for her if she fails. As you can see, she must not lose her employment.”
“That Pako is a foolish man. Hunting ditau is not a suitable occupation for women. I am admiring you, Sanderson, but this is a very bad thing for you to be doing.”
“Thank you, Rra Kaleke. You are correct, but it is so. I know you and the other men of the village know of hunting lions. I wish you to ask them if they will help in this.”
The old man scratched his head. “We have not been permitted to hunt ditau for many years. Young people today, they do not know how. We hunted them before. My father used his army issue Enfield to kill a lion, and his father, my rremogolo, killed a lion with a lerumo , with his spear, you understand? We have hunted the lion for many generations. It is not a thing to take lightly. This Pako must be very stupid. Hunting lions must be done by the man who knows how to do it. It is very dangerous.”
He closed his eyes and Sanderson thought he must be traveling back in years to when he was young and alive, before Independence, before the new way of doing things, back when he might have led a party of English hunters into the bush.
“We will meet in the kgotla and talk of this, Mma Michael. Sala sentle.” He nodded, turned, and shoulders back, strode away.
***
The men of the village gathered in the kgotla later. They sat on an assortment of chairs, some wood, several plastic in a variety of garish colors, and upended crates, Michael sat at their center, Sanderson at the extreme end of the semicircle. A late arrival required her to give up her chair and so she sat on the ground, legs extended,
As he was the oldest, Rra
“We will paint it next,” she declared. “I will go to the store and buy a great can of red paint and we will make this a beautiful truck, you will see.”
The men, and a few women, walked around the truck, banging on the side panels, squinting at the interior, kicking the tires, and muttering their approval. Mma Michael and her poor son had performed a miracle for certain.
Sanderson sat down next to him and patted his knee.
“I will need your help on this next thing I must do.”
“To paint?”
“No, no, I will need you to talk to those old men and the others who know hunting. I must find a bad lion and kill it. It is a thing I do not know how to do. They will listen to you. They will do it for you. I am not so sure they will become hunters for me.”
“Mma, you are old-fashioned. They will listen to you.”
“It is not I who am old-fashioned. These men are from the days before. They are not ready to listen to this woman. If you ask, they might.”
“And they might not.”
“Yes, that is so, but if I am the one to ask and I fail the first time, there will be no second. But if you ask, there will always be a chance.”
“Mma, this is not necessary. They must hear you. It is the way, now.”
“Do this favor for me, Michael. I cannot be taking a risk. If they do not go hunting with me, I am lost. Mr. Pako is sure I will fail and will report it. I might lose my employment. You must do this for me, please.”
Michael nodded and signaled to Rra Kaleke, the oldest and therefore the man held in highest esteem in the village, to come over. The old man approached and saluted them.
“ Dumela, Mma, Michael, o tsogile jang ?”
“ Ke teng, Rra Kaleke, tanki. ”
“You wish to speak to me, then?”
“My mother begs you to do a thing for her.”
“What sort of a thing?”
“Her boss, Mr. Pako, requires her to hunt a lion and to kill him.”
“This Pako, he asks this of a woman?”
“Yes. He is sure she cannot do it, and it will be hard for her if she fails. As you can see, she must not lose her employment.”
“That Pako is a foolish man. Hunting ditau is not a suitable occupation for women. I am admiring you, Sanderson, but this is a very bad thing for you to be doing.”
“Thank you, Rra Kaleke. You are correct, but it is so. I know you and the other men of the village know of hunting lions. I wish you to ask them if they will help in this.”
The old man scratched his head. “We have not been permitted to hunt ditau for many years. Young people today, they do not know how. We hunted them before. My father used his army issue Enfield to kill a lion, and his father, my rremogolo, killed a lion with a lerumo , with his spear, you understand? We have hunted the lion for many generations. It is not a thing to take lightly. This Pako must be very stupid. Hunting lions must be done by the man who knows how to do it. It is very dangerous.”
He closed his eyes and Sanderson thought he must be traveling back in years to when he was young and alive, before Independence, before the new way of doing things, back when he might have led a party of English hunters into the bush.
“We will meet in the kgotla and talk of this, Mma Michael. Sala sentle.” He nodded, turned, and shoulders back, strode away.
***
The men of the village gathered in the kgotla later. They sat on an assortment of chairs, some wood, several plastic in a variety of garish colors, and upended crates, Michael sat at their center, Sanderson at the extreme end of the semicircle. A late arrival required her to give up her chair and so she sat on the ground, legs extended,
As he was the oldest, Rra
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