A Piece of Home

Sometimes you can be halfway around the world and see or hear something unexpected, yet familiar.

This happened in the lobby of our lodge when we were visiting Tanzania’s Ngorongoro Crater shortly after the new year in 2018. My mom heard the comfortable sound of her youth - a Philadelphia accent.

Turns out, despite being nearly 8000 miles from home, we were relaxing in this lobby at precisely the same time as a man and his family from Philadelphia. A man who actually knew some of my mom’s younger brothers (there were 12 children, 11 of whom were boys, so my mom comes from an absurdly large family).

If you’ve been on the road for a while, these chance encounters can be a great comfort, however if you’ve intentionally sought the remoteness of a faraway place, sometimes the last thing you want is to hear an accent from your hometown or see someone wearing a ball cap from a rivaling city’s team.

Other times YOU can be the symbol of comfort for someone else…

Joel and our new friend from Zimbabwe in New Orleans, November 2024.

It was an uncharacteristically cold and dreary day in New Orleans. And like we’d done on our preceding six trips, we carved out time during our visit to try new activities. It was a Sunday, and we’d already had po’boys at Mr. Ed’s on Bienville and taken in the 360-degree view from the windy 34th floor at Vue Orleans. Now we were wandering our way back through the French Quarter with no particular destination in mind.

Joel was wearing his Zambezi Beer T-shirt - one in an impressive collection of beer T-shirts acquired on trips all over the world. He rightfully takes pride in his collection that documents his trips to five continents. Most people probably don’t notice them or acknowledge the trips these shirts represent, but on this day in the French Quarter, someone did notice.

As we rounded the corner, we saw a man smoking a cigarette under the protective awning of a 2nd floor gallery, safe from the day’s consistent drizzle. And when he saw Joel, his eyes lit up. He quickly put down his cigarette, approached Joel and was insistent on shaking his hand.  

Now, we’ve had our fair share of interactions with enthusiastic street hucksters in NOLA (the old, “I bet you I know where you got your shoes” trick), but this guy had an unquestionable sincerity to him.

We stepped out of the drizzle, joining him under the protective cover of the overhang. He enthusiastically explained that he is from Zimbabwe, the home of Zambezi beer.  He had been New Orleans for seven months, because he and several others from Zimbabwe are working at Brennan’s for a year to learn the ins and outs of restaurant management. His dream is to own a wine bar in Harare.

Despite enjoying his time and learning a lot, he was missing home and Joel’s T-shirt perked up his day.

When we took photos, Joel noticed that the man’s background screen on his phone was a photo of a young girl, probably a daughter he has been separated from while he studies in the U.S.

After we took the photo and chatted for a few minutes about how much we enjoyed his home country, we walked away feeling good that we had brightened his day not just from the overcast Louisiana sky, but with an unplanned reminder of his family and homeland 8,500 miles away.