Babbling to the Bishop of Botswana

Airline check-in counter clerks have so much power. They can, in one swift move, relegate you to a middle seat or one of those at the back of the economy section that doesn’t tilt. Equally they can elevate you to the dizzy height of First Class - not that that has ever happened to me despite being 6ft 2” tall and a blatantly obvious prime candidate for needing more leg space than others. But it never happens.

 I now thank the check-in clerk at the Kenya Airways desk at Harare International Airport who refused to grant me any extra leg room at all but inadvertently placed me in an aisle seat next to the Bishop of Botswana. While Blackadder’s “baby-eating Bishop of Bath & Wells” sprang instantly to mind (simply for its alliteration) when we introduced ourselves, of course there was no possible comparison to the genteel and Right Reverend who was returning to Gaborone after meetings in Zambia and Zimbabwe, the latter with the head of the Anglican Church, the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.

Stick to the plan

I was on the first leg of a rather tortuous journey from Harare to Dubai, flying via Gaborone then Nairobi before getting anywhere near home. I’d considered changing the flight to a more direct one but feelings of impending doom should I meddle with fate urged me to stick to the original plan. Maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, for it turned out to be possibly the most interesting flight I’ve ever had.

 For starters, it wasn’t necessary to instantly resent the fellow passenger sitting in the middle of my three-seat row as one is apt to do according to a Lonely Planet survey of 5,800 flyers who, when questioned on what bugged them most about air travel, put invasion of personal space at the top of the list.

Sure, I would have resented him if the Right Reverend Trevor Mwamba had persistently kicked my shins, definitely had he stolen my headrest or entertainment console, and absolutely if he had with him a feral child. Top gripes in this survey included assaults on the olfactory system. Stinky feet were rated by respondents as nastier than baby vomit, while stale cigarettes, body odour, highly fragrant foods and perfumes could induce the gagging reflex.

Obviously he had none of the above. The dapper gentleman in an immaculate suit complete with pale pink handkerchief in his jacket pocket and what looked like a monocle tucked into it chatted as if we had known each other from way back. None of the polite but boring flight-companion-type conversation seemed necessary. We got straight down to the nitty gritty taboo subjects of religion, politics and although not quite sex per se, I learned about his advisory pre-marriage course offered to those about to embark on that perilous road.

Garnet ring

He was so unlike a stereotypical bishop – aloof, imperious and of condescending manner - that I started to wonder if indeed he was one. Reading my thoughts, he pointed out the regular regalia that identified a bishop whatever they were wearing at the time. And there they were; a big gold ring with a dark burgundy garnet on his right hand and a gold chain around his neck carrying a pectoral cross which was tucked into his left jacket pocket. It wasn’t a monocle after all.

He had been in Harare along with other Central African bishops to support Archbishop Dr Rowan Williams in handing over a dossier to President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, detailing alleged abuses suffered by members of the Anglican Church in the country over the last four years at the hands of an excommunicated Anglican Bishop Nolbert Kunonga and his followers.

It’s all so political of course, with Kunonga being supported by the government and having full use of the state machinery of police, war vets and Central Intelligence Operatives to persecute Anglican Church members. A chronicle of seized property including schools, clinics and orphanages and details of the harassment going on by this renegade bishop was contained in the dossier and the collective bishops asked Mr Mugabe to put an end to it. The Bishop of Botswana said the meetings were beneficial and he was hopeful that justice and good would prevail. (It didn’t.)

We discussed our current reading matter, both of us happened to be focused in the 1960s. His was a biography of President Kennedy by Richard Reeves while mine was Kathryn Stockett’s The Help. Naturally, we got onto Alexander McCall Smith’s The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series of books, in which the bishop is mentioned. He also played a starring role – himself - in an episode of the BBC TV series of the same title.

Dancing Sermons

I bought his own book of wisdom Dancing Sermons when I returned home. This is a book that does not demand readers to be any particular religion, rather it discusses various scenarios typical of human nature, encourages people to be humble and most importantly, retain a sense of humour at all times.

After a standard airplane lunch washed down by a fine South African red, the plane touched down in Gaborone. I was sorry to say goodbye.

 The leg from Gaborone to Nairobi was empty, but on the flight from Nairobi to Dubai it was bursting with men swathed in white cloth destined for the Hajj. My designated aisle seat was already taken by a man – just like that – he wanted to be next to his friend. Well and good provided I could get an aisle seat too, which I did a few rows down. My new flight companion in his ihram seemed new to flying – he had his knees tucked into his chest and feet on the seat – so I showed him how to buckle up the seat belt.

I also offered him my carbohydrate heavy meal via gesticulations and gestures as we didn’t share a language; and thumbs up and smiles was all that was necessary.

 CMR

A version of this article appeared in the Gulf News opinion page at this link: https://gulfnews.com/opinion/thinkers/not-all-flight-companions-are-boring-1.1069946

Gentlemen only

I wondered what these signs I found on the internet related to. They all tell a tale I’m sure, but none better than the “Gentlemen Only” sign that has recently been whitewashed from the wall of the Mutare Club in the leafy suburbs of Mutare in the Eastern Highlands of Zimbabwe.

Previously known as the Umtali Club, this elegant building was designed by pioneer and architect James Cope-Christie in 1897, incidentally the same year my grandmother was born.

Apparently royalty, governors, politicians and even Cecil John Rhodes used to frequent this conservative upmarket establishment, and some stayed over for it offers accommodation too. It is still a well-attended refuge for gentlemen.
The sign at the Mutare Club has sadly been whitewashed over, but until quite recently only gentlemen were allowed in, but first were requested to put away their shorts, socks and sandals for the more suitable attire of long trousers and a collared shirt.

A particularly pleased customer
     

It's a shame this sign was removed, probably due to female protestations or because of political correctness, and I think that it should be reinstated for historical record and besides that, the club still doesn’t admit women to the members bar.

Critically endangered northern bald ibis

The Middle East’s rarest bird teeters on the brink of extinction.
The northern bald ibis had not been spotted in the wild in the Middle East for about 70 years until in 2002 researchers discovered seven birds nesting near the ancient city of Palmyra in Syria. Since then the Syrian Government’s Desert Commission and supporting conservationists have toiled to preserve this tiny population, but numbers are sadly down to three birds.

Conservationists fear Syria’s political unrest will have a detrimental effect on these sensitive birds, already traumatised by illegal hunting and other threats.

International agencies helping to save this colony from oblivion include the Turkish government, which donated six juvenile semi-captive birds to Syria, hoping their introduction will swell the precariously small wild population.

UK bird charity the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) devised a programme involving attaching satellite tracking devices to the backs of four of these birds. The data received revealed the migration route of the adults – namely Odeinat and Salama - crossing eight countries and spending the winter in the highlands of Ethiopia. However, where the other two tracked youngsters donated by Turkey go and whether they can survive still remains a mystery, according to Chris Bowden, RSPB international species recovery officer monitoring the birds.

Conservationists from RSPB place satellite tracking device on an ibis

Once widespread across North Africa and the Middle East, the only other nesting population of about 100 breeding pairs of Geronticus eremita lies in Morocco.

What a sorry state of affairs for a bird so respected by ancient Egyptians to be depicted in a hieroglyph!

Check out  http://www.rspb.org.uk/wildlife/tracking/northernbaldibis/

A variation of my original story is at

https://gulfnews.com/life-style/general/on-track-to-save-the-ibis-1.965985