A dear friend of mine from an Afrikaans, West Coast family, 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 journey 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 main post office, where we found a shop attached to the post office that specifically offered items appealing to philately interests. The doors were open, and we walked into a clean and orderly shop with glass counters displaying a series of different stamps and first day covers.
My friend greeted a smart Zambian gentleman, who was dressed in a dark suit and tie and standing behind the counter, before proceeding to ask if he could purchase a selection of the first day covers he could see through the glass of the display cabinets.
The man 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 here only 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.
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.
My friend completed his purchase of a set of stamps, and we said goodbye to the man before stepping back out onto the pavement. It is at this point that 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 had taken the conversation.
Pointing at me as if to emphasize 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, and up until this very day, we come across a servant of the government who performs his tasks diligently and to the manner laid down by his former masters. 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, is when you encounter 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 take offence! 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! (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.