Lost and found

On my first arrival in Zambia we had to spend a night in Ndola as the connecting flight to our final destination would be on the next morning only. The hotel where we spent the night was right in the centre of the town and the intermittent sound of speeding motor vehicles gave us some discomfort. The breakfast which consisted of toast with butter and marmalade, bacon and eggs washed down with a generous pot of African coffee enabled me to have a cheerful disposition by the time we left the dining room and came to the foyer. The suitcases were stacked in one corner, ready for transportation. I asked the European lady at the "Reception" to ring for a taxi. While waiting, I thought of calling the airport to ask whether the flight was on time. The receptionist connected me to the airport and my wife and daughter waited patiently while I talked.

The flight would be on time. Soon the taxi arrived and the bell boy put the suitcases in the trunk. We all got in and the cab took off. I was running a check list of my baggage- three suitcases and a 5 gallon tin of cooking oil (someone in Tanzania had told us that cooking oil was a rare commodity in Zambia, and hence the 5 gallon tin. We soon found out how much mistaken we were) in the trunk, my wife's hand bag and her overnight bag just beside her on the car seat, my brief case.... where is it?

It should have been with me. I looked down. It wasn't there. I turned round and looked on the back seat where my wife and daughter were sitting., asking my wife at the same time "where is my brief case?"

She looked left and right and also in the space between the seats and asked me "Is it not with you?" which meant she could not find it. It contained all the money, travellers' cheques, passports, air-tickets and other important documents.

I told the African driver to turn the car round and go back to the hotel. Fortunately he could understand English. While he managed to make a U-turn I told him about the brief case. He muttered something about too many thieves hanging about in Ndola. I was panic-stricken.

Even though it took only another fifteen minutes to reach the hotel, it felt like ages. Even before the cab came to standstill, I jumped out and ran up the steps to the Reception. The European lady looked at me enquiringly.

I simply blurted out " my brief case..... did you see a brown brief case?"

Without answering, she bent down and picked up a brief case and put it on the desk beside her. I realized with a great sense of relief that it was my own brief case which I thought as lost for ever in the foyer of Ndola's Savoy hotel, even before she asked with a smile "Is it the one?"

I had no words to thank her. She said "you are very lucky because I saw it on the telephone table immediately after you left. It would have disappeared within another five or ten minutes". Then she reminded me to make haste so that I would not miss my flight.

This was one of the many incidents of friendliness I experienced during my stay of nearly thirty years in Zambia- the Friendly Country.