Words of wisdom from a Welsh taxi driver
Are you one of those who believe South Africa is only a blimp on the global map? And the rest of the world couldn't care a fig about what goes on here? And the more knowledgeable ones believe roaring lions stalk shoppers in Jo'burg streets, and tribes still sport loincloths and shoot with bow and arrows (exacerbated by the comedy turn of the lone screaming and jumping tribesman at rugby tests)?
Must admit I was always under the impression South Africa was of nuisance value for its precious metals and being run by corruptive reprobates in the guise of political leaders.
And the only plus factor is the majority have been given the vote - though the poor are no better off.
Until last week, that is. In an Uber travelling between Penarth and Cardiff. After some silence the driver, a pukka portly Welshman, suddenly turned on me, shouting, "Hey, mate, what in hell happened to your rugby team against the New Zealanders?", obviously referring to the Super final between Lions and Crusaders.
Before I could answer, he spittled on, "I'll tell you what happened. It's that F%$£ system called alternative action. What F%$ balderdash! Since when can players be up for selection only according to their skin colour? Does form and fitness count for zero? Who are these nincompoops calling the shots? Don't they consider winning in the scheme of things?"
"Well. . ."
He didn't allow me to finish. "Sport is about competition, and the goal is to win. Let me tell you something, mate, even if a team is made up of only black players - and they're the best of the bunch - then so be it. If they're all white, all Indian, all Chinese, all Japanese, all women, and they're the best, choose them! Colour doesn't come into it - or how do you as a South African feel about it?"
"Well. . ."
"I hope you're not one that's been brainwashed into believing this sport killer? If so, why bother to support a team? You're wasting your time and energy, mate! You'll never have a winner. How do you feel being a loser?"
"Well. . ."
"Can't be a good feeling, eh? Oh, here we are, your destination. Been good meeting you and exchanging views. Good luck with the Lions."
I'm left on the sidewalk feeling utterly lonely and depressed.