I’ve visited two casinos in my life – the Dakota Dunes near Saskatoon and the Grand Palms casino in Gaborone, Botswana. I remember little of my visit to the Dakota Dunes, but I remember the Gaborone casino very well.
The casino was built at a time when South Africa was ruled by a white minority under a policy known as apartheid, or “separate development,” which in practice meant that 16 million black South Africans were second class citizens, with few rights and far lower living standards than the 4 million whites. South Africa was racist and very repressive – whites treated blacks as sub-human, domestic violence among whites was common, and gambling was not allowed, except for bets on rugby matches. So not surprisingly the Gaborone casino attracted many white South Africans who wanted to gamble, to savour a cross-cultural experience, and for some, to seek out interracial sex. Shortly after the casino opened, five colleagues and I had gathered in Gaborone for a meeting – what else? – and of course we wanted to have a look at it. So one evening we put on our safari suits and headed for the bright lights and excitement. A safari suit consists of matching pants and an open-necked jacket, usually made from cotton, and of course worn without a tie, although the occasional cravat can be seen. Safari suits were favoured by the elite of several African countries, including Presidents and Ministers, and by adventurous expatriates such as ourselves. We arrived at the casino, an impressive three-storey building, and were immediately told by the gatekeepers that all guests needed to wear ties. We told them that we were visitors and that we believed that we were very well dressed, and we easily swept by them. The ground floor featured banks of slot machines being played by poorly dressed black men wearing ties. We moved on to the second floor, which featured roulette and card games being played by what were clearly better-off men and a few women. We were again challenged by casino staff about not wearing ties, but we used the same arguments as we did at the ground floor and we were reluctantly allowed to move up to the third level. We knew, though, that the junior staff members who had not succeeded in stopping us were almost certainly heading for the Manager, the Big Bwana, who would most likely be white and would show us the door. The third floor was clearly the Holy of Holies, the Diamond Privé, where the big bets were made and the jackpots were serious. Unlike the other two levels, it had a large door to keep out the bit players, and it was outside that door that the Manager, backed up by two enforcers, caught up with us. He told us firmly that we would have to leave and again we protested, pointing out that several African presidents wore safari suits. The Manager was getting annoyed, he repeated that guests had to be properly dressed and that meant wearing ties. Just as he spoke, the door to the Diamond Privé opened and a stunning young white woman in a short white dress came down the stairs. Then our fearless leader uttered what remains for me one of the most memorable phrases of my life: “You’re telling us to leave because we’re not properly dressed, and she’s wearing not much more than a loincloth!” “Out!” said the enraged manager and the enforcers moved closer. We left with our heads held high and we laughed all the way home.
3 Comments
3/30/2023 11:41:21 pm
I appreciate the effort that went into researching and writing this article. Glad to read this. Keep on posting.
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April 2021
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