Affleurements

We don't forget, thought Mma Ramotswe. Our heads may be small, but they are as full of memories as the sky may sometimes be full of swarming bees, thousands ans thousands of memories, of smells, of places, of little things that happened to us and which come back, unexpectedly, to remind us who we are. Ans who am I? I am Precious Ramotswe, citizen of Botswana, daughter of Obed Ramotswe who died because he had been a miner and could no longer breathe. His life was unrecorded; who is there to white down the lives of ordinary people?