I treasure moments of unexpected kindness, when someone offers you their help without expected reciprocity or agenda.

Today I thought back on Agnes whom I met one lonely night in a place called Morogoro, somewhere in Tanzania. Agnes set a standard of hospitality and kindness I’ve been trying to match ever since (…and miserably failed).

We’d arrived to a new town late in the evening and it took me forever to set up our office. As I finally finished I found myself abandoned by my colleagues who’d gone off searching for dinner somewhere. The only street of the town was lit by nothing but stars. I was simply too exhausted to brave the scorpions, snakes and other creepy-crawly surprises alone.

My room had no light either, so I could only go there to sleep… I opted for our hotel’s ragged bar and tried to kill time and hunger with a few crackers. The other tables were full of local couples or cheerful groups. Telephone didn’t work outside the capital, there was no internet connection. Suddenly I felt very small and very much alone.

Until. A sweet looking young woman came to my table, shyly asking if I’d like to join her for a cup of tea. With my usual Finnish suspicion I tried to figure out what she wanted from me but luckily decided to take my chances and sit down with her for a moment.

It turned out that Agnes – a delightful 23-year-old schoolteacher – and her husband had seen me sitting there all alone and feeling sorry for myself, and had felt bad for me. Agnes had even sent her husband off for a while, thinking it might be easier for me to join another woman alone.

How very thoughtful. How guilty I felt for having immediately doubted them. They didn’t even let me pay for my own cup of tea. In their culture it simply was sad for a person to eat alone.

We had so much fun together that evening… And when we all returned to the capital Dar es Salaam a month later, Agnes came to our hotel to meet me again. She wanted to show me a place that had left an everlasting impression on her.

Off we went by a loud, crowded, shabby bus to a faraway location, unmarked by any tourist guide or map. To a place where slaves had been gathered and taken to boats some hundreds of years ago. Remains of tiny windowless huts filled by heavy rusty shackles on the oceanfront. Haunting as Auswitch.

There we sat in silence for a long time, Agnes and I. We didn’t speak at all upon our return to Dar. It felt somehow inappropriate. We hugged, and I never saw her again.

But I’ll never forget her kindness. Or the… unity we felt on that beach.

It was one of those moments where you realize how we’re all the same. Regardless of background, wealth, color, religion.

So, dear friends, hand on your heart. Have you ever approached a total stranger, just because they look lonely and out of place?

Me neither.

Palette of Gustave Moreau

~*♥*~