Today was a little strange. We have just finished moving house – the unpacking is done and the furniture is all assembled and arranged perfectly. The cable-guy is coming out tomorrow and I even have a working garage door (after searching for the remote for three hours).
The last thing on my list was to sort out the front lawn, we currently have the “worst front yard in the neighbourhood”. Seriously, there is a monthly prize for the best front yard in our area. So, I made a decision that that leaves needed removing and the grass being cut and I did the manliest thing I could think of – I called a contractor.
I know how to use a lawnmower, but I have no will to, especially in Florida heat and humidity. So I find the closest work crew and give them a call. A few hours later a typical lawn service guy arrives, dirty-ish, smelly-ish and without pen and paper.
After a few minutes of discussing the benefits of the shade from my trees he asks where my accent is from. “My mom” didn’t sound appropriate so after telling him and discussing Charlize Theron’s “stellar” career for another ten minutes he drops the bomb on me.
“Don’t take offence to this”. Bastard, I know what’s coming. As a South Africa who has travelled overseas enough times since 1994, I brace myself for the inevitable.
I’ve had “so you’re racist” many times before, especially in London, but this was something different.
He briefly told me how he was from Tennessee and that they practically started the KKK (or something like that) and how he understand how complicated things can be. Then he promptly told me that he knows how “YOU” people always say that you had nothing to with apartheid and blah blah blah.
I was getting bored, until he starting dropping the “K-Bomb”. He basically told me that I shouldn’t worry about his crews, they are from Jamaica – and that I just shouldn’t use the word “kaffir”, even though they won’t know what I’m talking about.
Now I’ll be honest, it’s been a while since I have heard that word, as long ago as Lethal Weapon 2 since I’ve heard it out of an American’s mouth, so it really took me by surprise.
It’s been wearing on me all day, because I don’t know how to take this.
He’s either blatantly implying that he thinks that I’m a racist and I mustn’t act like one, or he is himself and was very close to giving me the secret white-cloaked handshake.
The fact that he knows a word restricted to our little country that well, makes me think the latter – and I’m going out to buy my own lawnmower right now just in case my neighbours get the wrong idea.
Does make me a little bit sad that I have just been stereotyped, though.