No longer the stiff upper lip

A simple act of kindness shatters stereotypes, and unveils shared humanity

People are basically the same everywhere. We feel happy when help comes in times of need or when others appreciate and express words of endearment for us. But we nourish wrong notions and develop misconceptions about the people of certain cultures.

We have learned as adults that the Englishmen were very strong, tough, and unmovable; they don’t express emotions freely and do not cry either out of frustration or out of happiness. 

But this is not true. It took me 30 years to realise that, despite cultural and social differences and ideological and political contradictory policies, the Englishmen are like any of us. To prove the point, let me narrate an incident that happened in a railway compartment during my trip from London to Oxford.

When I boarded the Oxford-bound train at the central railway station in London, there were only a few people sitting in the compartment. The train stopped at a small station where an old woman with two big suitcases, apparently very heavy, managed to enter the compartment and sat in front of me. 

I stole a look at her. She must be in her 70s. She had reddish, deep wrinkles, very thin eyebrows, and dried lips. She was feeling relaxed and relieved and was taking long, heavy breaths. I looked at her. She seemed serious, as if the smile on her face had disappeared ages ago. 

I felt like striking up a conversation with her. But I didn’t know how. Though I wanted to, I didn’t dare offer my help when she was struggling to bring her heavy suitcases. I was not sure whether the English woman would receive my help.

I made up my mind to help her if she disembarked before I did. I decided to be friendly. At first, I smiled at her; she saw me but did not acknowledge it. I tried a second time, but she became grave and gave me the impression that she wouldn’t appreciate my efforts to befriend her. I persisted. My repeated but sincere appeal made the old lady respond. She threw a divine small at me as if she knew me for decades.

As the train slowed down, the lady got up to lift her heavy suitcases. I quickly went to her, lifted both suitcases, and moved to the gate. Carrying her vanity bag, she looked at me smilingly and said, “Why, my dear son, why take trouble?” I turned back and said, if not the son, who else would take trouble for his mother? She struggled for words.

The train stopped. I carried the suitcases, kept them on the stone bench, and rushed back to the compartment. When I looked at her, she was still standing by the stone bench, looking at me. As she said, “May God bless you, my dear son,” tears were rolling down her cheeks. Oh God! An English woman can cry for a little help! We are all one; the whole human race is one!