The Dixie Medicine Man

By Christian John Makgala

Leroy, a white medical doctor from Mississippi, leaves America and stays in the village of Morwa, Botswana, at the height of the world-wide euphoria caused by Americas moon landing! He becomes a popular community crusader, and a reputable traditional doctor.
Epic friction ensues as Jealousman, a territorial village luminary, feels upstaged by Leroy. Leroys relationships with Jealousman, other locals and visitors to Morwa provide endless opportunities for laughter and food for thought.
Events transpire that will teach you a great deal about Botswana and her special people. The descriptions in this book will keep you reading right until the very end -and the end itself will leave you crying for a continuation of the saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450235389

Christian John Makgala

Christian John Makgala was born in Morwa, Botswana. He obtained BA degree at the University of Botswana, MPhil and PhD at Cambridge University in England. He teaches history at the University of Botswana. Although he has published several academic books this is his first novel.

Book preview

THE DIXIE MEDICINE MAN

Christian John Makgala

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

The Dixie Medicine Man

Copyright © 2010 by Christian John Makgala

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any

means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written

permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in

critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links

contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer

be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and

do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby

disclaims any responsibility for them.

Editor: Bernita Naudé

Cover design: Tebogo Gaotshabege

Layout: Kevin George

Cartographer: Modise Sedimo

Proofreaders: Felicitas Balule & Bernita Naudé

ISBN: 978-1-4502-3537-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-3538-9 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 06/23/10

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Acclaim for The Dixie Medicine Man:

I really would love to hear what President Barack Obama says about this remarkable historical novel inspired by selfless Americans changing other people’s lives and presented in a delightful manner.

Lynne Farmer, former US Peace Corps volunteer

in Botswana (1966-1970): Minnesota

What is really pleasing is the way Makgala manages to (re)create a whole community at a point of important transition from a rural backwater to a village totally integrated into an urban and even global economy. He manages to keep a vast number of characters alive and memorable, in a way that makes the novel almost a Botswana epic.

Professor David Kerr: University of Botswana

It seemed to me that the universe gave me this book to edit because it fits so well with my own personal spiritual beliefs and questions about life…. More importantly, it contains very important messages for the modern generation, albeit set in a past context. I love the juxtaposition of old and new and of spiritual and secular. This also creates a few instances of humour – that I think are essential to a successful book. I LOVE the ending. My overall impression is that people will enjoy this book and learn much about Botswana in the process.

Bernita Naudé, editor: Johannesburg

Se ke kgato e e tshwanetseng. Nako e tsile gore re fete Bessie Head mo Botswana. (This is a step in the right direction. It is high time we went beyond Bessie Head in Botswana.)

Professor Richard Werbner: University of Manchester

I would like to watch a movie based on this powerfully anointed and cutting edge novel.

Joseph Drexler-Dreis, former American exchange

student at University of Botswana: Yale University

Intriguing and fascinating.

Dr Parakh Hoon, Virginia Tech: Virginia

An ingenious and scintillating account of cultural, social and economic transformation in Botswana over a generation written with the global reader in mind.

Mike Mothibi, The Botswana Guardian

This is a winner. I recommend it to all my friends.

Sarah Irons, retired from Centre of

African Studies: Cambridge University

Certainly one of the most notable novels ever to come out of Africa. Its cross-cultural dynamic and global dimensions are particularly amazing.

Banyatsi Mmekwa, attorney and critic:

Gaborone, Botswana

When it comes out I’ll be looking for it on the New York Times best-seller list.

Dr Mark Mienko, Silicon Valley: California

For my wife, Mphumie, for the love and care she has been pouring on me all these years

Until recently, I was an American idiot who thought that most of Africa was hopeless. Even when I looked at Botswana’s economic growth, I felt that the data exaggerated the country’s overall level of well-being. As I prepared for my travels to Botswana two years ago, I bought into the negative information I was fed. Western experts in Washington, DC, told me to boil water before drinking it, avoid eating any fruits and vegetables, and stay inside after dark. Some of my well-educated, well-traveled American friends even asked me if people in Botswana still practised cannibalism.

However, what I found when I arrived in Botswana’s capital, Gaborone, were BMWs buzzing by on paved roads. The quality and variety of dining options was outstanding. The water was safe to drink in both the capital and in rural areas. Shopping malls in Gaborone were full of affuent Batswana (the proper name for citizens of Botswana) shopping for designer jeans and the latest Harry Potter book. Even when my team of researchers and I moved to the more rural country away from Gaborone, the overall size and variety of Botswana’s markets greatly exceeded my most optimistic expectations. My stereotypes and fears about Botswana were far off target.

Scott A Beaulier, BB&T Distinguished Professor of

Capitalism, Mercer University (2005)

In a land [Botswana] where modern and ancestral religions overlap and priests from the new religious sects practise old beliefs in secret, KK [Dr Kenneth Koma, an influential Botswana politician who openly subscribed to ancestral religion] can declare his freedom from hypocrisy with conviction.

Michael Dingake, veteran Botswana politician and

former Robben Island inmate (2004)

Inspiration and Acknowledgements

This novel was primarily inspired by my friendship with Dr Kelly L Anderson who comes from Hattiesburg in Mississippi, the heart of America’s Deep South. Kelly and I met and became very good friends while studying at Selwyn College, University of Cambridge. Kelly and his family hosted me twice at their home in Hattiesburg’s suburb of Sumrall. The novel was also inspired by Joseph Huggins, the United States Ambassador to Botswana from 2002 to 2005 and his successor Ambassador Katherine Canavan, whose legendary contribution to the struggle against HIV/AIDS in Botswana left a deeply felt and lasting impression.

American Peace Corps volunteers in Botswana were also inspirational. These warriors gallantly fought in the trenches of the war against the AIDS supremacy in Botswana. Among these was Christopher Tshepo Talley who came from Kansas and his jurisdiction covered my home village of Morwa.

There is also a moving and priceless involvement of a Canadian tourist, Jon Rowlinson, who had stumbled on Melody Jenkins, a Peace Corps volunteer from southern California. Melody was a HIV/AIDS educator and community capacity builder in Nata village, a small and obscure backwater in the northern part of Botswana. Melody introduced Jon Rowlinson to the Nata community and HIV/AIDS programmes in the village. Although Jon, an Information Technology authority, was on his way to the famed Okavango Delta and did not intend to stay for long in Nata, after spending just one night in the village he was so touched by the AIDS situation that he decided to do something to help the afflicted community. As a skilled photographer and website designer he got to work and created a superb and informative website for Nata, hence introducing the village to the global community for assistance. Nata became the first village in Botswana to have its own up-to-the-minute website. Jon created and administers the Nata website free of charge.

I am deeply indebted to my long time one-man tribal advisory council, Dr Bruce Bennett from New Zealand, for having commented and critiqued the very first draft manuscript of this novel. I take my hat off to Professor David Kerr whose comprehensive comments greatly shaped the plot. I am also grateful to my former exchange programme students from the United States: Joseph Drexler-Dreis (from Louisiana/Wisconsin), Nathan Leiby (Tennessee), Katelyn Lucy (Vermont), Sandy Bolm (Maryland), Sarah Ashburn (Utah), Hilary Redhead (Virginia), Yamiche Alcindor (Florida), Angenette Burns (North Carolina), Krystal Gladden (Florida), Maggie Lyons (Colorado), Rebecca Sander (New York), Diana Soran (Minnesota), Jhanalyn Blowns (North Caroline), Tiffany Watson (North Carolina), Alexander Cerny (Nebraska), Alex Wheaton (Oregon), Megan Kemp (Georgia), Kaitlynn Sumpter (Washington DC), Lucille Wenegieme (Colorado), Isabelle Dortonne (Florida), Eric Dayton (Iowa), Rebecca Schwartzman (Washington DC), Sophia Daly (Maryland) and Dalton Dwyer (London and Washington DC) who eagerly await the appearance of this novel. Hanne Duindam from Utrecht in the Netherlands also deserves special mention. Some of these students also shined as activists in the national liberation struggle against the AIDS hegemony in Botswana.

I owe a special debt of gratitude to Caroline Walsh and Unity Dow for their comments which greatly improved the draft manuscript of this novel. My editor Bernita Naudé did a fantastic job and greatly believed in the potential of this work. I particularly liked her ‘‘faith’’ in the ‘‘Morwa Times.’’ My lifelong friends, Masego Office and Banyatsi Mmekwa, had to put up with many long months of my absence as I slaved on this project.

Whereas many aspects of this novel are based on historical facts and my own observation of my country’s socio-cultural and economic transformation over the years, the novel remains a work of fiction and should be treated as such.

Glossary of Non-English Words

Image335.EPS

Chapter 1

ENTER THE DIXIE DOCTOR

Leroy arrived in Mochudi on 4 March 1971, when the landing by American astronauts on the moon was still very fresh in the minds of the local people. As a result, his arrival became associated with the epic voyage to the moon by the Americans. He was introduced as a doctor from Mississippi in the United States, to the staff of the Deborah Retief Memorial Hospital at Mochudi, on the morning of his arrival. This was preceded by lengthy drizzles which only stopped just before the people reported for work that morning. This much needed rain had covered a large part of the country and the ground had soaked up the water quite nicely. A God-sent and encouraging sign in these sun-baked and drought-prone parts. Therefore, it was not for nothing that when Leroy’s new workmates greeted him they attributed the welcome rain to his arrival. Many talked of him as bringing them ngwaga o monamagadi.

"What is the meaning of ngwaga o monamagadi?" Leroy asked his guide, Mrs Angelinah Mofokeng, trying quite hard to pronounce the Setswana words accurately and doing a fairly good job of it.

Literally, it means you are bringing us a ‘female year’, which actually refers to a prosperous time. It is connected with the rain – which is very scarce here, responded Mrs Mofokeng, a South African refugee and nurse based in the village of Bokaa.

After being introduced to the hospital staff, Leroy attended a meeting held at the hospital between medical doctors, nurses and the traditional doctors. The latter represented the Botswana Witchdoctors Guild. He found the behaviour of Thellaboy, president of the Witchdoctors Guild, rather bizarre and his speech tinged with bitterness. But he was quite impressed by the presentation and attitude of Chairman Mao of the Botswana Medics Association.

Leroy and Mrs Mofokeng quickly struck up a friendly relationship and she became handy when he needed an explanation of certain local customs and sayings that he was exposed to. She was also helpful in explaining the customary long and winding sentences which the local staff members were fond of using. They talked to him excitedly about the moon landing experience.

While the meeting was going on, the hospital superintendent quietly sneaked into the meeting room and approached Mrs Mofokeng.

Would you please follow me to my office; I have an urgent matter to discuss with you? the elderly superintendent whispered to Mrs Mofokeng. Then the two women in white uniform disappeared out of the room.

I am afraid we have a serious crisis, Mrs Mofokeng, said the superintendent.

What do you mean?

We don’t have accommodation for Dr Leroy. The renovation to the house we have designated for him has not yet been completed. The contractor says he is still awaiting material from Johannesburg in South Africa.

It’s a serious problem indeed. So where is the DRM going to accommodate him now? There is no motel in Mochudi or any of the neighbouring villages to keep him in the meantime, responded Mrs Mofokeng.

What about a village development committee house in Bokaa – won’t it suffice? enquired the superintendent.

I am a member of the village development committee in Bokaa but I am afraid all our houses are fully occupied by tenants. Even then, most of them are badly in need of repairs. Anyway, I’ll check with the village development committee in Morwa. If they have a house available it would be nicer because Morwa is closer to Mochudi than Bokaa. But I can’t guarantee anything, cautioned Mrs Mofokeng.

Perhaps you should go there now and enquire at the local authorities. I think it would be strategic to go along with Dr Leroy so that the Morwa hierachy can see the gravity of the matter and be sympathetic, she suggested, knowing quite well that Leroy – being a white person – would be received with grace.

Morwa was just ten minutes by car from the DRM hospital. It took two hours on foot because this involved people stopping to greet almost each and every adult they came across. This could also include lengthy conversations about cattle, farming and lately the moon landing by the Americans. Since people in this part of the world had not seen a television, they had only heard about the Apollo 11 landing on the radio. Therefore, a great deal of talk involving some wild imagination about the moon was indulged in. Unexpected entrance into a friend or relative’s compound for a cup of tea was not unusual either. This added to the time one took walking from Morwa to the DRM in Mochudi.

Mrs Mofokeng stayed with her family in the small village of Bokaa to the west of Morwa. Bokaa was some fifteen minutes drive from the DRM while walking took some hours because of elaborate greetings and the subject of the moon landing which everybody talked about.

Dr Leroy, let’s go. I need to organise lodging for you in Morwa, which is not far from here. Mrs Mofokeng whispered into Leroy’s ear and the two left while the meeting was still on.

So you mean there was no lodging organised for me in the hospital precincts? The hospital guaranteed lodging in my appointment letter, protested Leroy at the unpreparedness of the establishment.

To be honest with you, Dr Leroy, I was not part of the process of hiring and bringing you here but I’ll try my best to ensure that you get lodging. I am told that the house you were supposed to occupy in the DRM precincts is still being renovated. I understand that the contractor is still awaiting some material from South Africa. But we won’t let you down, believe me! promised Mrs Mofokeng as she tried to cover for those responsible.

Leroy realised that he was cornering an innocent person so he calmed down and changed the subject as they climbed into Mrs Mofokeng’s car.

I quite liked the main issue of discussion at the meeting. As an orthopaedic surgeon, I am in total agreement with the proposition that there be co-operation between the hospital and witchdoctors during orthopaedic procedures, Leroy shifted the subject of conversation after a period of silence.

The difficulty is that in recent years the Witchdoctors Guild has been thrown into disrepute by a series of back-to-back scandals involving some key officials, said Mrs Mofokeng to Leroy as she accelerated.

What kind of scandals are you talking about?

There is a widespread belief that cattle thieves collude with witchdoctors to avoid arrest and conviction. Again it is believed that most of the witchdoctors are just charlatans who are out to swindle their clients out of their hard-earned resources.

That’s terrible. I also felt that the speech by the president of the Guild was rather rambling rhetoric and had traces of bitterness, responded Leroy.

Yes, Thellaboy has an awful tendency to deliver speeches off-the-cuff and shooting from the hip despite being so woefully inarticulate, concurred Mrs Mofokeng.

Why can’t the secretary of the Guild prepare speeches for him to read at important gatherings?

Actually his approach sums up the state in which their Guild is. And I am afraid that’s how they operate, answered Mrs Mofokeng.

So why is their expertise sought so highly in orthopaedic procedures? Leroy asked again.

"It is called thobega and they are extremely good at it. Most people in this country have unflinching confidence in them when it comes to orthopaedics," answered Mrs Mofokeng as she came to a halt at the Morwa kgotla.

I really would like to learn how they do it, as well as about other aspects of their profession, said Leroy, as he prepared to alight from the car.

"The normal way to become a ngaka is through one’s ancestors repeatedly giving one a vision in which one is attached to an experienced ngaka for guidance. In most cases one of your ancestors would have been a ngaka and that ngaka wants to pass on the skill to a descendant."

"So not just about anybody can become a ngaka?"

According to tradition, I’m afraid not. But if one is determined I think he could learn.

I’m determined. So I’ll learn.

Well, good luck to you! responded Mrs Mofokeng as they got out of the car.

In accordance with custom, Mrs Mofokeng introduced Leroy to the Morwa village headman at his seat of administration, the kgotla. In this ancient forum there was a leobo, a rectangular thatched structure supported by vertical poles. The leobo also had a low wall. Some twenty metres from the leobo was the headman’s office, a round thatched one-roomed hut. A few metres away was the customary kgotla fire. Occasionally a man went to stoke the fire.

Present in the leobo was the village headman, six men and five women, who were locked in a discussion. Two men had come to lodge complaints about hyenas and lions which were killing their sheep, goats and cattle at their cattle posts. The distressed men, one of whom occasionally wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his right hand, wanted the headman to dispatch a traditional hunting party to strike back at the predators. The equally distressed women had come to plead with the village leader to deal with the growing juvenile delinquency in the village once and for all, by reviving traditional bogwera and bojale initiation ceremonies. The youngsters in Morwa had enthusiastically taken to reckless betting in a violent judo-like kickboxing game called stick, introduced in Morwa by returning contract migrant workers from the Johannesburg mines. The betting aspect of the game resulted in a great deal of controversy and fighting among the losers and winners. Most disturbing was the allegation that some betting was done in the form of promises of sex which was claimed to have led to a spate of unplanned teenage pregnancies with the boys involved vehemently denying responsibility. The whole thing was proving to be a real nuisance in Morwa. Therefore, the women wanted the revival of the bogwera and bojale initiation schools where teenage boys and girls underwent extensive training in the culture, values and traditions of the community. The women argued that this moulded the children into responsible citizens and also paved the way for them to get married.

One woman had come to report her discovery of dibeela at the nearby Metsimotlhabe river. The dibeela were in the form of old clothes which had been dumped by someone in the river and this was blamed for the long stretches of drought.

"I’ll act swifty and dispatch our village dingaka to the scene to cleanse the river and bring back the clothes to be burned here in the kgotla fire. The team will be led by our trusted Sejaro," the headman promised. In the distant past the dibeela would be blamed on the village’s enemies, usually people from far-away villages. In the modern age the dibeela were usually blamed on mentally disturbed people and psychopaths.

When Mrs Mofokeng introduced Leroy as an orthopaedic surgeon from America, this raised a great deal of interest among those gathered in the leobo. Soon everybody was talking about the moon landing by the Americans. After shaking hands with the headman, Leroy, who had the American flag in his left hand folded in a transparent plastic cover, walked back some two metres and stood still, then marched to the headman, gave a military salute and handed over the flag to him with both hands.

This is my country’s flag which we planted on the moon, said Leroy to the headman as the gathering looked on, with great fascination.

Thank you so much indeed. I am going to spread it on my office wall behind my chair, responded the headman as he received the flag from Leroy and sat down.

The headman then took the flag out of the plastic cover and spread it for everybody to see, and then passed it around for them to touch and take a closer look at it. Only two of the men had seen the American flag before.

It is called the Stars and Stripes. I first saw it in Italy, said Jealousman, a very proud and excited Second World War veteran who had seen action in Europe.

So you served in the war? I served in Vietnam for two years until last year, Leroy informed Jealousman.

It’s fantastic meeting another veteran. We have a lot to talk about once this meeting is over, responded the cheerful Jealousman, who held a dilapidated copy of the liberal Rand Daily Mail newspaper from Johannesburg and a badly dog-eared Time magazine. Some parts of the newspaper pages had been torn off for rolling tobacco.

I’m looking forward to that, said Leroy, who, in reality, was very reluctant to discuss his experience in Vietnam.

These people know only the British Union Jack because it was the flag of our country before independence, explained Jealousman, who fancied himself as more knowledgeable than everybody else in Morwa.

Come on Jealousman, I also know the American flag, complained the reserved Phandlane, another Morwa war veteran and friend to Jealousman.

After everybody had had a thorough look at the Stars and Stripes, Jealousman took it and hung it on the rafters of the leobo where it dangled majestically until the meeting ended.

"So you still have the Rand Daily Mail and Time magazine you got from me two months ago?" the surprised Mrs Mofokeng asked Jealousman.

Of course I do. I will be coming for new ones for fresh news about the moon landing. I like the argument I read about some people who believe that the whole moon landing thing was not real but science fiction, re sponded Jealousman, who learnt to read and write at the front during the war. Come on, don’t believe that moon landing denial nonsense, retorted Leroy. Jealousman looked stunned by this. He was not used to anybody challenging his knowledge.

Let me go and stoke the fire, said Phandlane as he scurried to tend the kgotla fire – preparing to return quickly to listen to the emerging debate between Leroy and Jealousman. Jealousman had for a long time enjoyed the dubious honour of being the walking library in the village. The quick-witted Jealousman was also a retired migrant labourer, having plied his trade on the South African gold mines in Johannesburg. This also provided him with a cosmopolitan outlook on life.

That one still believes that the earth is flat and he does not know that the moon revolves around the earth, jibed Jealousman, pointing dismissively at Phandlane with the copy of the Time magazine held in his right hand. Apparently Phandlane heard him and turned around, pointing his right index finger at Jealousman and then at his own head in small circular movements.

You too are a madman, shouted Jealousman angrily, feeling offended while Phandlane turned around again to go and stoke the fire.

What is that fire for? Leroy asked Jealousman, in order to diffuse what he saw as a potentially explosive situation.

Oh, it’s our ancient symbol for life in the village. It is kept burning permanently.

That’s interesting, appreciated Leroy.

My service at the war enabled me to shake hands with King George when he visited our country in 1947, the smiling Jealousman told Leroy in an attempt to change the subject.

Who is King George? asked the American. You mean you don’t know King George? Jealous-man was shocked. Come on, who is he? Leroy insisted, with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. Everybody knows King George; how come you don’t know him?

He is talking about King George VI of the Great Britain. He visited us after the war in appreciation of our contribution to the British war effort, Phandlane volunteered the answer, as Jealousman expressed disbelief by covering his mouth with his right hand.

I see. Thanks for sharing your knowledge with me, appreciated Leroy in a manner that suggested disapproval of Jealousman’s attitude.

"We met him in a huge gathering at Lobatse and gave him a huge and elegant phate. The best I’ve ever seen," added Phandlane.

"What is phate?" enquired Leroy.

It is a traditional mat. That one was really huge. It is made up of skins of more than 20 lions and some leopards. I mean it is really breathtaking to look at, Jealousman quickly explained in order to retake command of the conversation before Phandlane could provide the answer.

It must have been a splendid spectacle, responded Leroy. It is there at the national museum in Gaborone. We can go and see it some day if you have time, suggested

Jealousman, trying hard to marginalise Phandlane in the conversation.

Queen Elizabeth donated it to the national museum in Gaborone when it was opened a few years ago, Phandlane interrupted Jealousman, as the two men vied for Leroy’s attention.

I certainly would love to go and see it at the museum, responded Leroy, noticing the competition between the two men.

I’ll take you there, offered Jealousman – even though he had never visited the museum before.

The guide at the museum is called Kebawetse. She is from this village, said Phandlane, trying hard to resist being elbowed out of the conversation by Jealousman.

It must be having some interesting exhibits, said Leroy.

Do you know who Queen Elizabeth is? Phandlane directed the question to Leroy, trying to force himself into the conversation. Phandlane wore a brown shirt with a blue tie and an old black blazer that was fading and becoming brownish on the shoulders. The shirt had a terrible hole in it, caused by a coal iron, to the left of the tie. A red vest under the shirt hid his belly. Like most local men, he wore a pair of home-made rampeechane, sandals made from old car tyres. Jealousman himself wore a pair of well-polished Bostonian shoes.

Come on! Who doesn’t know Elizabeth Taylor, the Hollywood superstar! retorted the American. Interestingly, nobody in Morwa, except Jealousman, knew anything about Elizabeth Taylor.

At that point the headman called the meeting to order and enquired what Mrs Mofokeng and Leroy were looking for in Morwa. I am more than willing to be of assistance to you, offered the headman.

Dr Leroy here will be working at the DRM but he does not yet have accommodation there so we are here to check whether you can make a village development committee house available to him in the meantime, answered Mrs Mofokeng.

Of course we can make a house available to him. Jealousman, don’t you have a house readily available for Dr Leroy? asked the elated headman, who wanted to do everything in his power to keep Leroy in Morwa after he lost the resourceful and enterprising Mrs Mofokeng and her family to Bokaa.

"We have two houses available. But one has already been allocated to a school teacher who will be arriving in the village in two weeks’ time. The other one was vacated by the kgotla policeman to move in with his girlfriend."

To move in with his girlfriend! The world must be coming to an end. How can a man move in with his girlfriend just like that? Surely our ancestors must be turning in their graves. That man must be ferreted out of that place and returned to the village development committee house or expelled from our village, complained one of the women who had come to plead for the revival of bogwera and bojale.

Well that can be attended to later. We need to get accommodation for Dr Leroy right away, emphasised the headman.

The situation is quite dire so it will be helpful if Dr Leroy is provided with accommodation as soon as possible, pleaded Mrs Mofokeng.

As a member of the village development committee responsible for housing I can promise that Dr Leroy will be provided with a house until he gets a house at the DRM, promised Jealousman, patting Leroy on the shoulders and trying to please the headman and Mrs Mofokeng.

That settles the matter. So Dr Leroy, if you want to be shown around this backwater village of ours, please feel free to ask, suggested the headman.

I’ll show him around and introduce him to the people, the talkative Jealousman quickly offered to be Leroy’s tour guide.

This was planned for the following morning, which was a Saturday. After the meeting, Jealousman tried to monopolise Leroy by taking him aside for a private conversation.

I brought American whiskey with me. I can bring you some tomorrow if you don’t mind? Leroy made an offer to Jealousman.

Of course. I would love to taste whiskey again. But I’m more familiar with Scottish whiskey than the American brands.

I’ve brought with me a box of Southern Comfort and Jack Daniels. When did you taste whiskey for the first time? asked Leroy.

I was first introduced to whiskey in Italy for entertainment, but it has been very difficult to get it here at home.

I also found whiskey quite comforting during heartbreaking and melancholy moments in the jungles of Vietnam. And there were far too many of those, concurred Leroy.

That’s true; a companion of sorts is always needed in difficult times, and whiskey did the trick for soldiers, agreed Jealousman.

Well, I’ll give you one litre bottle of Southern Comfort and another of Jack Daniels. They are both from the Southern US. Southern Comfort comes from Louisiana and Jack Daniels is a Tennessee whiskey, explained Leroy.

"Monna whiskey is whiskey – whether it comes from the south or from the moon is immaterial!" appreciated the excited Jealousman, hugging Leroy. The two men parted ways, looking forward to meeting the following morning. Everybody waved goodbye as Leroy and Mrs Mofokeng drove back to Mochudi to deliver the good news.

Jealousman remained behind, nagged by an ominous feeling of a potential long-drawn out rivalry between himself and Leroy. It would be brought to the attention of those who matter in Morwa. And Jealousman did not like the feeling one bit – or the potential future consequences for him!

Chapter 2

THE VILLAGE TOUR OF FAMILIARISATION

The thought of being dislodged from the pedestal of being the village’s walking library was almost too much for Jealousman to bear, but he did brilliant work hiding the feeling from Leroy as his tour guide. Jealousman had quickly guzzled two shots of Southern Comfort from a litre presented to him by Leroy. This gave Jealousman a degree of comfort as the two men embarked on the tour of familiarisation.

They walked from one side of the village to the other. In a few instances when they entered a compound people from the neighbouring compounds soon arrived to see what was new in town. Jealousman chose to le at he considered to be Morwa’s who’s who. Leroy wore a cowboy outfit, complete with light