Tale guide

Only in Africa, part 1

Did the British win the Boer war?

A dear friend of mine from an Afrikaans, West coast family, and who is sadly no longer with us, was an extremely knowledgeable collector of first day covers and stamps.

On an occasion a few years back, we found ourselves in Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, on a business trip.

It was a once off journey that was unlikely to be repeated, so he was keen to take advantage of the opportunity to buy some local covers.

During the early afternoon, shortly after lunch, we walked down the main street to the post office, where we found a shop attached to the Post Office that specifically served philately interests.

The doors were open, and we walked into a clean and orderly shop with glass counters in which a series of different stamps and first day covers were on display. My friend greeted a smart Zambian gentleman dressed in a dark suit and tie, standing behind the counter, and proceeded to ask if he could purchase a selection of first day covers that he was able to select through the glass of the display cabinets.

The shop attendant was most courteous and indeed waited patiently for my friend to complete his selection before announcing that the shop was closed!

“Closed?” I asked incredulously, looking back at the open doors behind us.

“Unfortunately, today is month end Thursday Bwana, and on month end Thursdays we must take stock,” the gentleman explained.

Somewhat perplexed, I interjected, “We are visitors to Zambia and are only here for one day. Surely you can make a plan to help my friend here. It must be easy to simply adjust your stock accordingly, as soon as we have concluded the sale?”

Unperturbed at my insistent tone the gentleman calmly replied, “Most regrettably Sir, I may not sell our first day covers on month end Thursdays as it is our stock taking day. I may also not make an adjustment to the stock as you have suggested. I am sorry.”

“I don’t believe it,” I exclaimed exasperated.

My friend turned to me and with an almost paternal manner attempted to calm me down, “Relax Richard, it is what it is. Not to worry.”

Then, to make things worse, the gentleman behind the counter offered to sell any number of single stamps to us notwithstanding stock take day.

“But if you can sell single stamps, why can’t you sell first day covers, for Heaven’s sake!” I was quite frustrated at his intransigence.

“I am very sorry Bwana, but I am not allowed to sell first day covers on stock taking day,” he repeated politely with no hint of frustration or sarcasm.

After my friend had completed his purchase of a set of stamps, we said goodbye to the attendant and stepped back out onto the pavement.

Once outside my friend turned to me with the intensity of a teacher about to impart an important lesson. “You know,” he declared, with a twinkle in his eye, “Understanding the English has remained a difficulty I have had to grapple with throughout my life!”

“What are you on about?” I was somewhat perplexed at the direction he was taking the conversation.

Pointing at me as if to emphasize the point of his argument, he said, “you English spent hundreds of years colonizing Africa during which you spent lifetimes and an enormous amount of money, educating the indigenous people in the ways of the British empire. So cocksure were the British that their way was the only way, you went to extraordinary lengths to ensure that your practices were adopted, word for word, process for process and you would never tolerate a deviation.

You did such a fine job, that long after you packed up and went home, did we not encounter a servant of the local government who performed his tasks diligently in accordance with everything his former masters had taught him. Yes?”

I had been down similar roads with him many times before and was amused by what I knew was coming. “And your point is?” I responded sarcastically.

“My point is, my dear Englishman, when you encounter a somebody that is a product of your forefather’s colonial dynasty, diligently doing exactly what you taught him to do, on the day you told him to do it, you have the audacity to take offense! That's what has baffled the Afrikaaner for years. Typical bloody English,” he concluded with a wry smile, throwing his hands in the air with a dramatic flair!

I similarly threw my hands in the air, “Ja, nee!” (It’s an Afrikaans expression literally meaning ‘yes, no’ but used as an expression of exasperation), “and it’s because of your very skewed Afrikaner logic that the British were able to defeat you in the Boer war!”

“That, my dear friend, is another myth, passed down through the ages,” he retorted.

Punt no more!

By way of an introduction, a former colleague and friend who I call John, told us this story over a Bacardi and Coke quite a few decades ago.

To be fair, he still is a bundle of fun; a dynamic, free spirited soul who turned out to be a brilliant strategist and team leader.

We were trying to encourage him to join us in the casino at the time but he was unusually reluctant and to support his decision to decline the invitation, he chose to share the following story with us.

He said that as a younger man, he was a professional gambler, albeit part time. In fact, he was a member of the High Rollers club at Sun City at a time when Sun International’s Casino resorts existed only within the tribal homelands designated by the Nationalist Government.

The story had its beginnings after John had fallen head over heels in love and after an extended engagement, they decided to buy their first home with which to start off their married life together. John had amassed just enough savings with which to put down a deposit on a house and his gorgeous young wife to be, had found and fallen head of heels in love with the house of her dreams.

One of the many expensive perks of membership of the High Rollers Club, was that you could travel on Sun City’s own jet to and from the resort for free. So, for reasons he was unable to properly explain, John decided to take the flight to Sun City from Johannesburg and visit the exclusive club.

They didn’t call the exclusive Privé, ‘the High Rollers club’ for nothing. This was a smallish but lavish gaming room where patrons, selected for their high net worth and/or expensive gambling habits, could enjoy a few hours or days placing big stakes for big wins, while being pampered with exotic foods, copious amounts of world renown liquors and a whole lot of personal care and attention, all with the compliments of the resort.

Here the wealthy would dabble with anything from R100, 000 to R1 million and more, per pot. In those days the odds were very much in favour of the punters, so you stood a reasonable chance of winning big although you would need to have reserves on hand that could absorb equally as big a loss without wanting to commit suicide, if you indeed had a bad day at the office.

Into this familiar world, our friend entered boldly and with confidence and he proceeded to play the blackjack table with his thirty thousand Rands savings for the house deposit which would be the equivalent of about R230, 000 today.

But on this day and contrary to his usual run of luck, John lost it all in a matter of hours.

He was distraught. He was way more frightened of what would happen if he told his bride to be that he had lost the deposit on the house of her dreams, than he was with the actual loss itself!

He took the shuttle bus from the Casino hotel to Sun City’s airfield which lay across the way from the resort complex and sat alone in the empty waiting room until five o’clock that afternoon contemplating his miserable plight. It was a terrible and scary time and there was no one with whom he could share his troubles.

He sat and considered his next move and only once he was airborne on his way back to the city, did he finally decide on a plan. But so risky was this plan, that John resorted to serious prayer, which in itself had been, until then, quite alien to him.

He asked the Great Provider for forgiveness. He explained his plan to win back his house deposit and asked for divine intervention to protect him from failure. In return, he committed faithfully and on his unborn children’s lives, that he would never ever gamble again!

Still shaken and worried, John had a restless night, tossing and turning in between which, he sought the Lord’s council and some kind of sign that the risk he contemplated would be covered, which sign did not materialise.

Notwithstanding, his complete commitment to his Heavenly undertakings filled him with courage that all would be right on the night!

The very next morning John presented himself at his bank and secured a loan for R30, 000 with the usual unfavourable terms.

Unperturbed and filled with self-inspired determination, John boarded the Sun City Jet to head for the casino for the second time, cash in hand.

He returned to the blackjack table and commenced the task of trying to win back the deposit on his house.

To his excitement and amazement, he found himself on a roll of good luck and in no time had won back the R30, 000 he had lost the day before. By midday John was sitting with R60, 000 cash in his hand.

Committed to his undertakings of the day before and despite the fact that he was still very much on a roll, he immediately stopped playing as soon as his goal was reached.

He then caught the shuttle bus back to the Sun City airport terminal and sat out the afternoon entirely alone, waiting for the five pm flight back to the city.

Again, John had plenty of time to contemplate the smooth road ahead to his upcoming wedding and the dream house purchase. Life was back on track once again!

It was quite a tale with a very happy ending, and we bade him good night and I retired to bed.

The following night I decided to wander down to the casino floor to see if I could drop lucky and there, to my surprise, was John well and truly playing a game of chance.

“What are you doing?” I asked, having bought his story hook, line and sinker.

“Shush,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t believe everything you see nor some of the things you hear and if you ask me, you didn’t see me here!”

And with that he cashed in his chips and bade me good night.

And then there was Uganda (source unknown)

President Idi Amin once wanted to change the name of Uganda to "Idi".

Except for one man, Maliyamungu, everybody else who were close to him were petrified to challenge his decision!

Maliyamungu said to him, "Your Excellency Sir, have you heard of a country called 'Cyprus'?"

Somewhat surprised, Amin asked, "What has Cyprus got to do with my decision to change our country's name to 'Idi'?"

Maliyamungu said, "Well, the people of Cyprus are called Cypriots. If you change Uganda to 'Idi', all of us, including you, will be called 'Idiots'! So, please, let's maintain our current name!"

Idi Amin said, "Aaah...! Maliyamungu! You are very intelligent! In fact, more intelligent than everyone in Uganda except me! Let's leave it!"