The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency《第一女士侦探事务所并不是个侦探

Ramotswe女士在博茨瓦纳开了第一家侦探事务所，同时也是第一家女士的侦探事务所。但这本书并不是一本侦探小说，你要知道，简单的叙述，一个fat lady在她的tiny white van里走过博茨瓦纳的每个角落，和邻近的地方帮博茨瓦纳善良淳朴的人们解决生活中的疑团——这是她，她的朋友和她的同胞们对博茨瓦纳的热爱。

你读这本轻盈的书，感觉到的是非洲干燥的空气，密密匆匆的灌木，小房子，马克杯里面的茶，南瓜，牛群，清清淡淡的颜色，就像童话一样。是的，这简直就是童话。你不能用“现实”这个词来批评它，它不现实吗？Ramotswe的老爸爸年轻时做矿工的凶险经历，贫困，***，谋杀，巫术，以及吐着信子的眼镜蛇，都若有若无地藏在在这本可爱的书的每个角落中。世界的美丽只存在于视之美丽的人的眼中。

正是因为这本小说没有花里胡哨的情节，安安静静的，所以闻起来没有商业的味道。

摘要(sorryI can't help it~)：

（我很久以前在一本杂志上读到下面这段就深深喜欢了这本书，感谢在美国的同学回国带给我这本书，我怀着极高的热情读这本书from cover to cover!）

p4

In idle momentswhen they were no presshing matters to be dealt withand when everybody seemed to be sleepy from the heatshe would sit under her acacia tree.It was a dusty place to sitand the ckickens would occasionally come and peck about her feetbut it was here that Mma Romotswe weould contemplate some of the issues whichin everyday lifemay so easily be pushed to one side.

Everythingthought Mma Ramotswehas been something before.Here I amthe only private detective in the whole Botswanasitting in front of my detective agency.But only a few years ago there was no detective agencyand before thatbefore there were even any buildings herethere were just the acacia treesand the riverbed in the distanceand the Kalahari over thereso close.

In those days there was no Botswana evenjust the Bechu***and Protectorateand before that again there was Khama's Countryand lions with the dry wind in their manes.But look ar in now: a detective agencyright here in Gaboronewith methe fat lady detectivesitting outside and thinking these thoughts about how what is one thing today becomes quite another thing tomorrow.

p61

The lawyer winced as she spoke."It's easy to lose money in business"he said."Especially when you don't know anything about what you're doing."He stared at her hard."Especially thenAnd anywaycan women be detectives?Do you think they can?"

"Why not?"said Mma Ramotswe.She had heard that people did not like lawyersand now she thought she could see why.This man was so certain of himselfso utterly convinced.What had it to do with him what she did?It was her moneyher future.And how dare he say that about womenwhen he didn't even know that his zip was half undone!Should she tell him?

"Women are the ones who know what's going on"she said quietly."They are the ones with eyes.Have you not heard of Agatha Christie?"

The lawyer looked taken back."Agatha Christie?Of course I know her.Yesthat is true.A woman sees more than a man sees.That is well-known."

"So"said Mma Ramotswe"when people see a sign saying NO.1 Ladies' Detective Agencywhat will them think?They'll think those ladies will know what's going on.They're the ones."

The lawyer stroked his chin."Maybe."

"Yes"said Mma Ramotswe."Maybe."Adding"Your zipRra.I think you may not have noticed..."

p63

In her heart of heartsshe knew there would be no clients.The whole idea was a ghastly mistake.Nobody wanted a private detectiveand certainly nobody would want her.Who was sheafter all? Shw was just Precious Ramotswe from Mochudi.She had never been to London or wherever detectives went to find out how to be private detectives.She had never ever been to JohannesburgWhat if somebody came in and said "You know Johananesburg of course"she would have to lieor just say nothing.

Mna Makutsi looked at herand then looked down at the typewriter keyboard.She opened a drawerpeered insideand then closed it.At that moment a hen came into the room from the yard outside and pecked at something at the floor.

"Get out."Shouted Mma Makutsi"No chickens in here!"

p132

The house had been built in 1968when the town inched out from the shops and the Govenment BuildingsIt was on a corner sitewhich was not always a good thingas people would sometimes stand on that cornerunder the thorn trees that grew there and spit into her gardenor throw their rubbish over her fence.At firstwhen she saw them doing thatshe would shout from the windowor bang a dustbin lid at them.but they seemed to have no shamethese peopleand they just laughed.So she gave upand the young man who did her garden for her every third day would just pick up the rubbish and put it away.That was the only problem with that houseFor the restMma Ramotswe was fiercely proud of itand daily reflected on her good fortune in being able to buy it when she didjust before house prices went so high that honest people could no longer pay them.

p182

Mr J.L.B Matekoni nodded.It had been easy to break the windscreen and scatter the fragments of glass about the car.It had been easy to telephone Mr Gotso's house and report that the car had been broken into;but this part was more difficult--this was lying to somebody's face.It's Mma Ramotswe's faulthe thought.I am a simple mechanic.I didn't ask to get involved in these rediculous detective gamesI am just too weak.

And he was --when it came to Mma Ramotswe.She could ask anything of himand he would comply.Mr J.LB Matekoni even had a fantasyunconfessedguiltily enjoyed in which he helped Mma Ramotswe.They were in the Kalahari together and Mma Ramotswe was threatened by a lion.He called outdrawing the lion's atterntion to himand the animal turned and snarled.This gave her the chance to escapewhile he dispatched the lion with a hunting knife;an innocent enough fantasyone might have thoughtexcept for one thing:Mma Ramostwe was wearing no clothes.

He would have loved to save hernaked or otherwisefrom a lionbut this was different.He had even had to make a false report to the policewhich had really frightened himeven if they had not even bothered to come round to investigateHe was a criminal nowhe supposedand it was all becouse he was weak.He should have said no.He should have told Mma Romatswe that it was not her job to be a crusader.

p212

Mma Ramotswe moved forward gingerlyplacing each foot carefully and expecting at any moment to hear a hiss from a protesting snakeBut nothing movedand she was soon crouching under a mulberry tree as close as she dared to get to the houseFrom the shade of the tree she had a good view of the back door and the open kitchen windowyet she could not see into the house itselfas it was of the old colonial stylewith wide eaveswhich made the interior cool and dark.It was far easier to spy on people who live in modern housesbecouse architects today had forgetten about the sun and put people in goldfish bowls where the whole world could peer in through large unprotected windowsshould they so desire.

Now what should she do?She could stay where she was in the hope that somebody came out of the back doorbut why should they bother to do that?And if they didthen what would she do?

Suddenly a window at te back of the house opened and a man leaned outIt was Dr Komoti.

"You!You over there!Yesyoufat lady!What are you doing sitting under out mulberry tree?"

Mma Ramotswe experienced a suddenabsurd urge to look over her shoulder as if to imply that there was somebody else under the tree.She felt like a schoolgirl caught stealing fruitor doing some other forbidden act.There was nothing one could say;one just had to own up.

p215

She knew the railway station slightly.It was a place that she enjoyed visitingas it reminded her of the old Africathe days of uncomfortable companionship on crowded trainsof slow journeys across great plains of the sugarcane you used to eat to while away the timeand of the pitch of the cane you used to spit out of the wide windows.Here you could still see it--or a part of it--herewhere the trains that came from the Cape pulled slowly past the platform on their journey up through Botswana to Bulawayo;herewhere the Indian stores beside the railway buildings still sold cheap blankets and men't hats with a garish feather tucked into the band.

Mma Ramotswe did not want Afica to change.She did not want her people to become like everybody elsesoullessselfishforgetful of what it means to be an Afircanor worse still.ashamed fo Afica/She would not be anything but Aficannevereven if somebody came up to her and said"Here is a pillthe very latest thing.Take it and it will make you into an Amecian."She would say no.Never.No thank you.

p234

The sun wentand it was dark.He sat beside her in the comfortable darkness and they listenedcontentedlyto the sounds of Afica settling down for the night.A dog barked somewhere;a car engine raced and then died away;there was a touch of windwarm dusty windredolent of thorn trees.

He looked at her in the darknessat this woman who was everything to him--motherAfricawisdomunderstandinggood things to eatpumpkinschickensthe smell of sweet cattle breaththe white sky across the endlessendless bushand the giraffe that criedgiving its tears for women to daub on their baskets;O Botswanamy countrymy place.

Those were his thoughts.But how could he say any of that to her?Any time he tried to tell her what was in his heartthe words which came to him seemed so inadequate.A mechanic cannot be a poethe thoughtthat is not how things are.So he simply said:

"I am very happy that I fixed your van for you.I would have been sorry if somebody esle had lied to you and said it was not worth fixing.There are people like that in the motor trade."

"I know"said Mma Romatswe."But you are not like that."

He said nothingThere were times when you simply had to speakor you would have your lifetime ahead to regret not speaking.ut every time he had tried to speak to her of what was in his hearthe had failed.He had already asked her to marry him and that had not been a great success.He did not have a great deal of confidenceat least with people;cars were differentof course.

"I am very happy sitting here with you..."

She turned to him."What did you say?"

"I saidplease marry meMma Ramotswe.I am just Mr J.L.B.Matekonithat's allbut please marry me and make me happy."

"Of course I will"said Mma Ramotswe.

敲这么多，我也觉得我有点疯了。。。哈~ENJOY~