Yao's Second Flight

Yao’s first flight had been earlier that morning, to Nairobi where I came across him at the transfer desk. Half an hour into our conversation, our boarding passes arrived and we discovered that we would be sitting together on the flight to Dubai.
“God is good,” he said.

He was on his way to Osaka to attend a month long training course. He was a teacher, deputy head and French teacher at a secondary school in Cote D’Ivoire, further up the ladder than me, yet until today he had never flown before. Flying is something I take for granted. He told me how he’d miss his students and daughter while he was away.

It wasn’t until we were in the air that his ‘novice flyer’ status came up in conversation and then it quickly explained his blank reception of the bags containing blanket and headphones, his sharing of my video screen in preference to using his own and other minor uncertainties. But still his calm assurance threw these things into a stark contrast. He professed no fear of flying and most refreshingly, had no fear of appearing uninformed or inexperienced.

At dinner time, he asked advice about what to eat first and, “Is it alright to eat the bread with this?” I realised what an inadequate model of etiquette I was, as constrained by space I forked food one-handedly into my mouth, inelegantly juggling and stacking the containers on the over-full tray. We talked on and off, explored the in-flight entertainment (on both screens by now) and the time passed all too quickly.

He was enchanted by the night-time view of Dubai on our approach to landing, delighting in identifying roads by their strings of orange lights, then individual cars and later the tall buildings of the city. I have never lost that sense of wonder, viewing the world from above. I hope he doesn’t.

As we taxied, seemingly for miles, I told him that Dubai was a much bigger airport than Nairobi.
“I’d never seen anything like Nairobi airport before,” he replied. I knew he was in for a shock. Nairobi is a typical developing country airport, small for a capital city, slightly shabby and decidedly dull. Dubai glitters with opulence, shops overflowing with unnecessary and expensive goods, floors gleaming, lights twinkling, the whole place looking much like a top-end shopping mall. We walked around together, Yao so quiet that I couldn’t tell whether he was overwhelmed or simply unimpressed. I tried to see it through his eyes, this movie-set of an airport, the likes of which he had never seen before. How far apart our worlds must be, yet however much I told myself this, all I could see how similar we were, but for the accidents of our homelands and the experiences they’d given us. And now we were just two travellers in a place that was no place and at no time.

With hours yet to go, our gates were not yet displayed, but Yao was uneasy with my nonchalant assurance that they’d appear in an hour or two, so he went to make enquiries. I walked him to his gate, where he wanted to wait and promised to return once I’d done the things I needed to do. Realising he’d have no currency, I took him a Coke – and writing this I remember the similar kindness I received here back in March– and we said our goodbyes again.

Over the months, I’ve met many people who’ve asked me to return or visit them in the future, but none has struck me as more sincere than Yao, nor has made me want to do so as much. I had found a friend in the nationless sky.

Aberdeen

Aberdeen is a strikingly attractive city. Perched on the edge of Scotland, stacked full of grand granitic architecture, it gleamed in the sun. Big business-like ships somehow managed to dock right in town next to the bus station, and a ferry waited to set sail for Shetland. The grey North Sea bravely sparkled when it could, dog-walkers strolled along the beach, even the big oil-related installations sat benignly on the harbour front. Out by the beach the city gives way to a tiny old fishing village of tinier houses, small and bright like beach-huts. Walking the narrow paths between them felt like walking through private gardens, amongst the barbecues, potted plants and washing.


Of course, I'm sure Aberdeen has rougher edges, but everywhere I went was simply the epitomy of couth.
In honour of the city's grandeur, I have penned a wee poem with some help from the famous poet, Adrian Mole:

Oh, Aberdeen!
I had never seen
you before.
Your granite glistened grandly
in the Scottish summer sun.
So did the sea,
till it rained.

I had only gone to spend a couple of days with my friend Shona and her family. Then somehow managed to stay there a week. In fact, it was so nice I'm surprised I'm not still there now. In all the time I was travelling, there was always the issue of "Going home" - an issue that I had trouble dealing with, as I had and have no home. The home I pictured as I travelled was the flat in KL that is no longer mine. But at Shona and John's, I found myself at home.

It was great to chat, or relax with a book, or a glass of wine, fun to do homework with the kids, walk along the railway line, and specially to go and watch Maxwell play his rugby match. And that's despite the shock of being reminded that I am old enough to be mistaken for the parent of a 13 year old! I even braved my way through Lucy's seventh birthday party - possibly a rather more contraceptive experience.

This was not only a lovely slice of Scotland, but also a lovely slice of family life. Not to mention a wonderful chance to catch up with people I haven't seen for a year. Now I'm just trying to work out why I decided not to apply for that job there...

This 'ere truck

For those of you who've been emailing and leaving comments requesting more info on the truck and its inmates, here we go...

L to R: Marina, Nick, Phill

Phill, otherwise known as Sargeant Smutt, is really good company. And not always smutty.

A typical interior scene, featuring Denise, Aaron, Marina, Nick

Nick with his trusty guitar. He claims not to remember the night he serenaded me in Vic Falls.

The Truck.

Those of you who have been paying attention will know where and when this was taken. Also featuring Mckenzie modelling a classy camp chair and Sam cooking, with Steve trying to look useful in the background.

The driver.

That's him on the left. Sorry, Chris, not your best look.

Chris is our driver / guide / cook and all round good guy. Good company and really passionate and knowledgable about Africa.

A clearer, but not necessarily better, view of Sam. Another all round good guy. Guaranteed to say exactly what he thinks. Likely to remove his clothes when inebriated.

Steve. Another nice guy. Wow, the truck must be full of them! Something of a hidden gem I think, this one.

Tanya

Tanya had a certain something with her royal wave. Sweet girl, from Costa Rica. Lusted after by every male on the trip. Sadly she hopped off in Vic Falls.

Nick again. Well, really he deserves an entry of his own, but I don't want him to get ideas. Nick is a fabulous guy. "So nice," as he would say. Interesting to talk to and really interested in everyone he meets. Can usually be found surrounded by children or learning the latest local language or arranging to meet supermarket shelf-stackers in downtown bars. He's full of enthusiasm for everything: "I wish I had a trunk - I'd swing it about," or "Wow.. it's like I've got magic in my fingertips!" Plans to start med school and I reckon he'll make a lovely doctor. As long as he remembers to treat people after chatting to them...

To be continued...