Intimidated by the silence, just no one to ask

My background knowledge about public places was that one needs always to be knowledgeable about the place, be accompanied by someone who knows the place or at least be vigilant. There I was, captured by fear of the unknown, having no idea what so ever of how to go out of the airport and where to find the person who had been waiting for me for I had no data connection, that was such an experience on my first day in Budapest.

I had traveled for almost three days. The only thing that I could think of was to find a place to lay my head. I remembered how I had almost missed my flight in South Africa because of how slow the attended was and also because I just had 30 minutes to change flights. That had been the longest part of my journey (from South Africa to Qatar) and I had never managed to sleep because of the noisy kids I had sat next to. At least the experience at the Doha in Qatar had been better for I had almost two hours to change flights. Again we had just had our lunch just before landing in Budapest so I was just but full. I had talked to Chanda about my arrival time at the Budapest airport but there I was looking for him and not finding him. Somehow, I had been made to believe that the general Hungarians do not like Africans and speaking in English as well. I remembered how our city bus stations back home where associated with cases of daylight robbery and all this made me more and more timid.

Finding the man

I had talked to Chanda l the previous three days and we had exchanged pictures over the phone, for recognition. I had also told him the pass-gate number where I would wait for him, the one written on my ticket. I had waited there for almost an hour minutes just wondering when this man would come. At last, I found a Good-Samaritan who could lend me a phone to call Chanda. We realized that there were two doorways to the same pass-gate and he had been waiting for me from the other door way. I then started towards the direction of the other door way where he was. I did recognize him, and as he was approaching me, he stretched his hand to give me a supper African handshake. His broad hands covering my little one, being twisted up and down, gestured in a bending position of respect, drawing me closer to his chest, he said ‘mamukasei mudhara (….. my beloved brother).’ The word mudhara commonly used in Southern Africa when referring to a beloved and respect elder. His thick voice reminded me of my uncle who had driven me to the airport back home.

My uncle had been a good man to me since primary education. I had stayed with him the previous year and he had shown me a lot of things in the city. He had a good sense of humor although he was a somehow strict. I then remember all the words he had told me just before I had left. I remembered how he had stressed the point of respect for man and love for God. With the echoes of mudhara, again I remember my young brother who had failed to hide his tears the day I left home. Although he was happy for me to go abroad, he could not bear the anticipation of my absence as the eldest son in the family. Again the handshake reminded me of my father. This was the way he would receive me back home after some days of being in the market. Because of the high exchange rates back home and the economic instabilities, we would go for a month or so selling basic commodities to different villages just to accord them affordable goods. It is upon returning from these expeditions that my father would give me this kind of greeting which would always be accompanied by the words, ‘welcome my lion hunter, my lovely son’. These words in my mind reminded me about the love my father had for me and how he would bring me close to his chest, hugging me slowly but surely. I remembered his last words before I had traveled to the city back home. With all these memories dancing in me, I could not hold my tears. Chanda was suppressed to see a full grown-up man who had just landed in a foreign land drop tears. Yes it had been common back home to see woman cry as a way of expressing their joy but this way largely not for man.

Shuttle to the hostels

We walked towards something that looked like an ATM machine. To my surprise, Chanda called me in yet from my background knowledge of ATM machines, it was always a single person at a time and one always had to keep his/her pin password a secret. It wasn’t an ATM machine I later leant, Gabriel told me how to buy a bus ticket from a machine, he also told me how a single ticket can be used for a month duration and can cover travel with both bus and train. This sounded very unreal for I was used to buying a ticket from a bus conductor and a ticket would be just for the particular journey. We boarded a bus to a train station, boarded a rain to another train station, boarded another one to Ors verse terre and then from there we took a bus to the hostels. I found myself believing him because of what I had saw and finally I was in my C.E.U. room meeting my roommate and having the time to rest.

The handshake that made me cry