“There is a lady called Violet Sephotho. She is going to stand too.” Puso’s eyes narrowed. “I hate her,” he said. His sister gave him a sideways look. “You’ve never met her, Puso. You don’t know who she is.” “I don’t care,” said Puso. “I hate her. She is very smelly.” Mma Ramotswe put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “We don’t hate people, Puso. We don’t hate anybody.” He looked at her sullenly. “Why?” he asked. “Because hate makes you very tired,” said Mma Ramotswe. She wondered whether there was more to say, but suddenly she felt tired herself.
