An African New Years' Eve shared wth a stranger...


On a plane this week I was reading a magazine called The Africa Report when I came across a half page announcement of an available position for an organization called NEPAD, an acronym for New Partnership for African Development which is - in general terms - an economic development program of the African Union.  I closed the magazine and began to stare out of the airplane window as I reminisced of the evening I learned about NEPAD.
Irene Country Lodge

On that trip I first traveled to the fabulous Kruger National Park, a great place to drain my veins of all the stress and pressures of my daily life back in the States.  After four glorious days in Kruger, I flew to Madagascar where I spent two weeks traveling the island and trekking for lemurs.  By the time I got back to South Africa to spend New Years’ Eve at Irene County Lodge I was exhausted and in desperate need of a proper shower.  

The Irene Country Lodge is an upmarket lodge and day spa in a beautiful setting of oak-lined country lanes yet only thirty minutes from the bustling city of Johannesburg.  In my room were two beautifully dressed fluffy beds, a comfy chair and a large sparkling bathroom with a thick robe hanging on the door.  There were French doors on the back wall with glass panes that overlooked a lake where several ducks swam, others walked on the pristine lawn.  The serenity and luxury of the lodge was a welcome change although not the kind of place I normally stayed during my many African adventures.  But it was New Years’ Eve, after all, and my booking agent, Dean, suggested the lodge since I had that evening and the entire next day to enjoy myself and relax before my long flight back to the States the next night. 

My Room
I knew before leaving the States the lodge was hosting a big dinner that evening which I paid for in advance along with my room.  In packing for the trip I enclosed a wrinkle free skirt and shirt and a decent pair of shoes in a large zip lock and tucked it away in my backpack for the occasion.  When the night came though I did not want to dress up and eat alone and almost backed out of the dinner. Eating alone doesn't normally bother me but again, it was New Years’ Eve.  Instead of backing out though I made a bold plan.  Before my long awaited shower I walked down to the restaurant and asked the host if there was anyone other than myself dining alone that evening.  He looked at his list then told me yes, one of his regular patrons was dining alone; an older gentleman.   I asked the host to speak to that man to see if he would like company for dinner making it clear my intentions were purely as a dining companion. 

I returned to my room showered, blew my hair dry and put on make-up then dressed in my zip locked finery.  When I looked in the mirror I barely recognized myself after almost three weeks of wearing grubby clothes and pony tails.   I walked down to the open-air restaurant on that crisp, clear African summer night noticing the restaurants’ lights dancing off the smooth surface of the lake.  When I arrived, the host was excited to take me to the gentleman’s' table and introduce me.  
View of my room from the lake

As I write this today I cannot remember the man’s name; somewhere I still have his card.  He was tall and thin.  I guessed him to be about sixty-five years old.  He was retired and his wife had recently passed away.  He told me he lived not far from the lodge and had been enjoying Sunday brunch there for years.  Before retiring he worked for NEPAD. Over a couple glasses of wine and a delicious meal we conversed about his position at NEPAD, an organization which, before that conversation, I had never heard of.  We talked about African politics, life in South Africa before and after Apartheid and so much more.  I, and I believe he, enjoyed a very pleasant evening filled with good food, wonderful South African wine and hours of insightful conversation. 

I smiled as I stared out of the airplane window, still today grateful I found it in myself to jump out of my comfort zone and have dinner with a complete stranger on New Years’ Eve in Africa.  I haven't thought about that night in a long time.  As I went back to reading the magazine I filed away those fond memories in hopes my dinner companion is still doing well. 

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