Volume 65 December 2026-January 2026 : Readers Diary

Oleseng Rantsie poured out two crystal cut tumblers full of cognac before sitting down comfortably in a luxurious armchair. Before him sat an elderly woman who showed signs of exquisite beauty in her  younger days.

She still had that luxurious and long raven black hair that had caused so many men to take a second look at her. Most of these men had inevitably taken a third look at her. She exhibited signs of good breeding. Oleseng offered her a drink which she gracefully accepted. She brought the glass to her lips and Oleseng broke into a sweat. She swallowed a generous amount of the cognac and only then did Oleseng feel at ease. It was done!

The lady noticed Oleseng staring at her with cold, calculating eyes. She was about to reprimand him for staring when the oxygen supply seemed to be cut off. She could not breathe. She gasped and clawed at the air as if trying to shred an unseen curtain. She was in pain. Blue varicose veins stood out on her neck and her eyes were hideous. They had bulged out and blood shot.

The eyes were rapidly becoming useless and all she could see were blurs and splashes of colour. Her mouth was frothing and she had bitten her tongue several times already. She was in pain. Excruciating pain. Her left side became paralysed first and she fell out of the chair she was seating on. Then her right side gave in and she could not move. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, seeing nothing. It was obvious that she was dangerously ill.

The nearest doctor was on the next floor. He was too far away to be of any help. That was how it was planned. Now something had to be done in a hurry. That something was quickly executed by Oleseng. He did nothing!

The lady surprisingly, could only hear. That was always the last sense to go. Right now, it was mutated and she could even hear the breathing of the deadly calm man above her. “Strychinine” her son said tonelessly before even that sense died. When it finally did, Oleseng was playing with a small but barely noticeable smile on his lips. “It kills quickly and painfully.” The lady could not and did not hear him.

Fifteen years ago, Oleseng overheard his mother consulting her lawyer on how to draw up a permanent will. With all the curiosity, a bored 14-year old could contain, he had unsurprisingly pressed his ear to the flimsy floor of his mother`s study and had eavesdropped on the conversation. “I want to leave everything to ……….”  A gush of wind blew his mother`s words away from him.

“That will be easy to arrange,`` her attorney had replied. “So if all your assets go to …….. blah ….er…..yeek… do…. okay? Another gust of wind, not strong enough to blow the words away but enough to distort them swept across his face.

Oleseng nearly screamed in frustration. His mother, who was in her early 40s, was worth a million Pula. He had to hear the name of the heir. At all costs. He set his young brain to work. No matter how hard he thought or which angle he viewed the problem was that he could not come up with a solution. He would have to wait. He waited for 20 years.

During this period he made his mother proud in numerous ways. He was one of the finest athletes at college and learnt to play chess professionally. He was also drop-dead generous. With his dark eyes and hair, he was a ravishing beauty. A true Motswana man.

However, the icing on the cake was his devotion to his mother. He loved and adored her. His mother could not ask for more. Only one thing bothered her. She would take care of it. She always had.

Three days before his mother`s shocking demise, Oleseng had overheard her on the phone to her attorney. ‘`Mr Kgalemang, it`s about my will you see, I was wondering if I could change the sole beneficiary of my empire at such notice…… I see… The third will be fine…….. Let`s say at 12:30. Nzano Mall will be fine. Thanks!” It was on the first of that month. Oleseng had to act fast. “His” money was at stake.

His mother sat down satisfied. She was going to solve the problem like she always had. Life could not be sweeter. Oleseng had promptly purchased five millimeters of strychnine via the black market at an unbelievable price. A new set of crystal tumblers were also purchased and a pair of latex gloves.

Oleseng skillfully smeared the colourless, tasteless and odourless toxin on the insides of the tumblers and set them out neatly, with a bottle of cognac, onto a silver tray. It was ready.

Oleseng disposed off the gloves. Now the spider would invite the fly to feast. Only the spider would not allow the fly to leave. At least not alive. The phone rang and was picked on the fifth ring. “Mrs Rantsie”

“Oh! hi mother, its Ole.” What makes you call so late Oleseng. For pete`s sake its 11pm,” Botho Rantsie said to her son. He apologised and many things lingered on his dreadful mind. 

“Mother I am having a ball at my home tomorrow evening. It is to celebrate the closing up of the multi-million pula tender I have orchestrated.  I would be grateful if you could make an appearance.``

‘`You make it sound so official and anyway you haven`t asked me properly yet.” “Oh mum please! Will you come?” The word mum started to work. Her defences crumbled.

“Affirmative”  “Come on mum, you don`t have to say affirmative. Yes would have done nicely.” And he burst out laughing. “Good night mum!``

Oleseng smiled. Not only did she swallow the bait, she swallowed the hook, line and sinker. He stared into and through the wall, seeing nothing. Then he laughed out loud. It was an evil, cold metallic laugh. The echo came back easily to him and he found it funny. He burst out afresh and did not stop until his ribs threatened to break. And then he laughed again and yet again.

 On the day of the ball, Oleseng`s mother alighted from her purple Porsche Cayenne in a body hugging dress, which revealed her petite figure.  She admired her son`s mansion! Upon arrival she found the celebration in full swing…  She was ushered into her son`s study and the two talked about trivialities before heading downstairs to the ball.

After about half of the uninvited and invited guests had left, Oleseng asked his mother to meet him in his study for a private talk. The spider invited the fly. Thirty minutes later, Mrs Rantsie is dead. The fly.

During the reading of the will, Oleseng nervously twisted an untwisted his hands. The officiating attorney mistook this for grief and his heart went out to Oleseng. The attorney slowly opened and dramatically opened the sealed envelope and cleared his throat.

His eyes bulged out and his fingers trembled. Sweat beads broke out on his brow and sweat stains below his armpit grew wider. His tie was choking him, he loosened it. That was better. His eyes smarted and he blinked uncontrollably. It was so unbelievable. So much money!! Wow! The attorney wondered how young Mr Ratsie would take of it. He hoped it would not go to his head.

“Well, how much money do I get?” Oleseng bellowed.

“Let me read the will please!‘` The attorney cleared his throat again. “In the event of my demise, whether natural or unnatural forces and means, I hereby declared that all my possessions, assets and all my money spinning enterprises be liquefied and resources be donated generously to S.O.S and other worthy causes.” “So all in all Mr Ratsie it means you get nothing,” the attorney said.

Three days earlier, Mrs Botho Ratsie thought of leaving everything to her son. He`s a good man. No more temper tantrums. No more womanizing. Yes! he deserves my empire. I`ll change my will to include him.

“Mr Ratsie” the attorney was saying, his eyes still locked on the will. “If I were you I would…..” he paused to pick up his spectacles and steal a quick glimpse at Oleseng.

Where Oleseng had sat minutes ago was empty. The attorney had been talking to himself. The attorney stood up and peered over the edge of the conference table. Oleseng was sprawled out on the floor. He had fainted! ENDS

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