KEY POINTS:
Collectively, they can be a hard bunch to like, South Africans.
My first experience of the contradictory nature common to many who inhabit the southern tip of the African continent - and significant tracts of the North Shore - came in 1995.
South African friends whom we knew
from London met myself and four mates at Johannesburg airport at the start of a six-week trip after the All Blacks' World Cup campaign
On the drive from the airport, we stopped to get petrol.
A young black man hustled out on to the forecourt as we pulled up.
"Fill it up, kaffir," one of our hosts directed. His tone wasn't one I'd heard before, at least not in human-to-human discourse.
It was a less-than-auspicious introduction to the country. But on arrival at our hosts' home - and throughout the rest of the trip - we were bowled over by overwhelming friendliness and generosity of practically every South African we met. When it comes to hospitality, few do it better.
But the contrast between the way we were treated and the casual manner with which non-whites were often dismissed was stark.
It was difficult to know quite what to make of South Africans then. It still is now.
Well over a decade may have passed since those halcyon days of'95, when the Rainbow Nation, recently freed from apartheid, marched triumphantly to the World Cup, Nelson Mandela and Francois Pienaar shoulder-to-shoulder in victory.
But how much has really changed?
Not a lot, it seemed, watching the Cheetahs' black players warm up by themselves and then take their places on the bench in a Super 14 game against the Chiefs in Hamilton this year.
Then again, check out these Springboks. On Saturday night, Enrico Januarie, the coloured halfback with a name like a Portuguese pop star, beat the All Blacks with a blaze of individual brilliance.
In the coaches' box, another coloured man, Peter de Villiers, clutched his head before pounding a table in triumph.
Such a scene would have been unthinkable 14 years ago. Or even four. De Villiers' ebullient reaction was not only understandable, but a joy to behold.
The former halfback is 51. For 37 of his years he lived under apartheid. For most of his life, then, he could never have conceived that he might one day coach his country. To get there he has surely overcome obstacles no New Zealander - not even Robbie Deans - has encountered.
Craig Dowd should have considered that before labelling the man a puppet during the build-up to Saturday's game. The former All Black prop's words would have hurt deeply.
It might be being overly charitable to Dowd, but perhaps "puppet" wasn't really the term he meant to use. To insinuate that de Villiers is some kind of hollow shell, and that other - presumably more knowledgeable, influential and perhaps even paler-skinned - figures are pulling his strings is a crass insult.
What Dowd hopefully meant to say was that de Villiers was a pawn; a single figure in a much wider power struggle. Given that the South African Rugby Union admitted his appointment was racially based, implicitly confirming he hadn't been the best-qualified candidate, it would be hard to disagree with that view.
De Villiers has certainly been the beneficiary of positive discrimination, an awkward concept that many Kiwis (and doubtless more South Africans) struggle to accept.
It can be hard to see the benefits of such a policy. On the one hand it almost certainly denies white players and coaches positions their ability deserves, and on the other it undermines the legitimacy of non-whites' selections.
But when you've seen how South Africa once was - and by many accounts still is - it becomes easier to understand why it is necessary.
Without positive discrimination, without a coloured coach, would Januarie have been on the field to score that brilliant try? Or would, as many non-white South Africans clearly feel, the job have gone to highly talented white halfback Ruan Pienaar by default?
Not so long ago there would have been no question. Januarie wouldn't have even been in the squad.
South Africa still has a vast distance to travel to achieve anything like normalised race relations. And not just in terms of its hard-core white element.
At a political level, the country's mealy-mouthed stance over the atrocities in Zimbabwe has been disgraceful. At a human level, it has been even worse.
Recent scenes depicting the hacking, slashing and burning of Zimbabwe's economic migrants in South Africa's townships showed just how deep xenophobia runs in that troubled country.
There are those who maintain that sport and politics should remain separate. Such a view presumes a degree of separation already exists. It doesn't, and never has.
Politics has always had, and always will have, an impact on sport. And sport possesses a considerable ability to influence politics.
Watching the Springboks celebrate after the final whistle was a classic case in point. Whites, blacks and coloureds mobbed each other, overtaken by the thrill of victory. For a country so deeply scarred by racial tensions, it was a truly remarkable scene.
After 13 years, the promises of the Rainbow Nation are at least starting to be born out on the sports field.
Which is a start.
The next time our nations clash, most Kiwis - save the anti-Henry extremists - will be hoping we smash them out of sight. And so we should.
But if we fail to do so, at least there is now a pretty decent reason not to begrudge this South African side their successes.
