This morning, while standing in line to do my (completely voluntary) civic duty by paying the television license fee, I took the opportunity to observe my fellow post office patrons.
Mwape, the guy who mans the package counter, was nattily dressed as always, wearing a lavender shirt with cufflinks (cufflinks are the dress shirt norm here, don't ask me why) and a grey vest with a Nehru collar. And the million-year-old man in front of me in line was wearing a newsboy cap and blazer (with tiny ants marching across his shoulder), though he did not have any shoes.
When he shifted to sign a ledger, he dropped his cane and I picked it up. As he turned to take it from me, I noticed that under his blazer, the old man was wearing a black heavy metal t-shirt and an oversized crucifix.