Yesterday Marion and I went to the local shopping mall here where we live in Auckland, New Zealand. Whilst having some coffee we got into conversation with a Kiwi couple. I had first noticed him when I went to order the coffee from a takeaway in the food court. The two breakfasts he ordered looked like they had been offloaded from the back of a truck. No shortage of steak, sausages, eggs, bacon, toast, hash-browns … things I just dream of with the strict diet I am on. I have lost about twenty-five kilograms in roughly three months, I will proudly have you know. The secret? Easy. Just have my wife’s family supporting me, including her giant son-in-law, who is about two centimetres shy of seven feet, who happily puts me at “heel” at the dinner table.
Anyway. The Kiwi bloke asked what I was ordering and I mentioned our two humble cups of unsweetened coffee while my eyes savoured the tottering mound of goodness on his plate. It turned out he was sitting with his missus at the table next to us. Their names were John and Wendy and we got into a conversation and were soon talking about their best places for breakfasts in Auckland, diet, our travels in China, the UK and our intention to stay in this lovely, peaceful country, New Zealand. “What’s the steak like?” I asked, while John shoved another spadeful of glory into the second most important mouth in the world (no prizes for guessing whose is the most important mouth). To my surprise he offered me some of his steak and I politely said know. I wasn’t hinting. I found the offer odd. Both of us, Marion especially, usually easily get into conversation with strangers wherever we go, but we have experienced a unique openness among the Kiwis. Even in Auckland, the biggest city, people are not treated as anonymous “big city” people. It’s common to chat with people at the bus stop, in the library or at our table in a food court.
What happened next set off an alarm in me. Just before they left Wendy walked over and wrote down her address, phone number and email on a piece of paper. That was very sweet and friendly, but my distrust blossomed with what she said. “You are welcome to come and stay with us anytime. We have a spare room and you’d enjoy the company”. “Yeah, no worries, mate,” echoed John. “Anytime.” A bit more guarded now, I gave them my email address. Only that.
The first thing that went through my mind — easily erroneous — was that these were “swingers”, people who swap spouses to sample fresh sexual pleasures. The spare room. You’d enjoy the company. They were still strangers. But I want to believe in this kind of hospitality.
I told the family about the experience and they confirmed that invitations like that in New Zealand were not unusual. They have lived in Kiwi-land for about six years. It’s obviously not just a South African thing to not trust people too easily. It’s a trend among countries that have had too much violence, political betrayal and a lack of secure, cohesive identity. New Zealand has been rated as arguably the most peaceful country in the world. The Fifa World Cup’s vuvuzela-deafening community is only a temporary illusion, according to some.
Not trusting can easily be passed off as survival instinct, and is still, to South African me, a valid response. My reaction to John and Wendy was not right or wrong. It was the result of my behavioural conditioning: living the first forty years of my life in South Africa. Wendy and John’s invitation was over-zealous, uncomfortable and not the “right thing” to do. Perhaps, at most, exchange phone numbers or emails. But all too readily I have adjusted to this friendly, trusting nature of the Kiwis. I’ve been invited to join singing clubs and so forth in coffee shops and, already gregarious, have opened up a lot more to strangers. The other day I met a South African in a local supermarket, Countdown, and after a chat with him and his girlfriend I suggested we exchange email addresses. He gave me a skeef look, left shortly thereafter. Neither he nor I were wrong in our behaviour. But the lack of trust I regard as sad. People are usually so wonderful and interesting if they can trust themselves enough to open up a bit. Trust has a lot to do with the creation of real community, instead of imaginary community.
New Zealand most certainly has an island, people-oriented ethos and I constantly feel I am in a small town in the way I am able to get into conversation with strangers. The Kiwi sensibility can be criticised as being too insulated. Here small news matters. People matter. Here the newspaper with the highest readership, The New Zealand Herald, will regularly have front-page main headlines screaming “Schoolgirl rugby erupts in brawl” as a pose to any international incident. One has to bear in mind the newspaper has identified what news most interests local readers: just around the corner, people news. Gulf oil spills in Mexico and other, typical front-page screamers are tucked away in the World section, a section usually not more than four pages. The kiwi sensibility is not “right” or “wrong”. The people in your immediate vicinity just come first. Hence there is a lot more trust.
A prince with dignity and determination
Prince Ngarambe’s goals are to become Rwanda’s first transgender model and to uplift the country’s youth
The EFF’s principles are unshakeable
Unlike the ANC, the core values of the freedom fighters do not change with each leader it elects
