In the new South Africa, a rose by any other name does not necessarily smell as sweet...
So this guy got onto a plane heading off to Australia, and found a woman in the seat next to his. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous and typing busily on a laptop computer, not paying any attention to him, or to the stewardess asking her if she would like anything to eat or drink.
And eventually he plucked up the nerve and said, "Must be something important you're working on."
"Yes," she replied while continuing to type. "I am working on a research project for my Ph.D."
"What's the research about?" he wanted to know.
Her fingers flew on. "I am trying to determine which nationality has the longest male sex organ, and which has the widest."
"And what did you find?" he asked.
"The research is not yet conclusive," she said. "But so far, it appears that people from Iran have the longest, and Italians have the widest." She stopped typing and turned to him. "By the way I'm Clara."
"And I am Alfredo Rafsanjani," he replied.
Sometime in April, the Government Gazette recorded that Peggy Priscilla Erasmus changed her name, first to Peggy Priscilla Khumalo, and then to Nonhlanhla Peggy-Sue Khumalo.
Last Saturday, Peggy-Sue Khumalo was named Miss South Africa before a glittering crowd at Sun City.
In doing so, she picked up R165 000 cash, a sports car worth about R150 000, a holiday in Mexico, four business-class tickets to destinations of her choice, groceries worth R90 000, jewellery, cosmetics, a designer wardrobe and a townhouse in Johannesburg's northern suburbs for the duration of her reign.
And the question which now comes to mind is, would Peggy Priscilla Erasmus have been able to win the crown as easily as Nonhlanhla Peggy-Sue Khumalo?
There are probably going to be more people asking the same question before the weekend is out, because it cuts to the heart of an essential problem with our affirmative action drive.
Many years ago, friend and colleague Trevor Harris called on me at the Post newsroom. As the newsroom secretary announced his presence, editor David Wightman remarked to me with a smile: "When I hear a name like Trevor Harris, I expect to see a distinguished English gentlemen."
He was quite right. Names have a powerful influence on the way in which we form pictures in our mind as to the people behind them.
David had no way of knowing that Trevor looked a lot like me -- Dravidian, with dark skin, jet black hair and beard, and (at the time) rather scruffy.
David had drawn a mental model of a "distinguished English gentleman" from his experience. This was not unreasonable. He had no way of knowing that Trevor's ancestor had been a Natal cane farm worker indentured to a man named Harris.
But problems kick in when the mental model associated with the name is used to make a decision as to what the person behind the name is all about.
So we've ended up with a rather ridiculous situation where people have changed their names to preemptively avoid unseen discrimination.
This was quite common among Indian South Africans until fairly recently, but it also happens around the world. A Jewish friend in the United States told me that "American-sounding" names were now preferred to to those that were overtly Hebrew. A Chinese friend changed her surname from Li to Lee.
The mental model conjured up for "Khumalo" is Zulu, black, former victim. The mental model for "Erasmus" is Afrikaaner, white, former oppressor.
Dangerous thinking? Only if I act upon it. But subconscious motivation can be powerful, and perhaps Peggy realised that and pulled off a preemptive strike that deserves applause.
Perhaps we should all change our surnames to Mandela. It will certainly make paging through a phone book more interesting.