Travel plan idea blog

I've done that for twenty years now:
Flying from my native Zimbabwe to Oslo via Lilongwe Malawi, Arusha Tanzania, Mogadishu Somalia, Vienna and Amsterdam (flight sponsored by KLM - I was an international athlete) The seat next to me though taken was empty from Harare to Lilongwe (the first stop over). I vaguely recalled seeing a person covered in linen crouched behind food service wagons being loaded on to the plane in Harare. I didn't think much about it... until taking off from Lilongwe when a steward asked me to make room for a special passenger. Soon after he quickly walked through the aisle and came to a stop before me - I had the aisle seat. I let him in. He was rather small for a person of his stature. Bishop Abel Muzorewa - the fill-in prime minister of the short lived Zimbabwe-Rhodesia - a sham attempt at appeasing the world during the Rhodesian crisis (nationalist war of independence). I never said a word to him nor him a word to me for the entire Lilongwe - Arusha portion of the flight. From Arusha to Mogadishu my mouth was locked shut! The man was iconic or demonic - depending on which side of the fence you stood. My knuckles and knees sounded like rattle factory testers, my throat was bone dry yet I couldn't muster up the courage to summon for a drink. The anxiety was horrendous.
He neither ate, drank, nor spoke. Sitting in his seat, repeatedly flipping through the inflight magazine and twiddling his thumbs is all he did. Lord knows how I wanted to do the chival thing and say a simple "good day to you bishop"...
By the Mediterranian I could tell the panic was getting to him too. He was bulging with anxiety, but I got to hand it to him, he did his calling proud - the man didn't 'break'.He kept his mouth clammed shut - if you saw his cartoon you'd understand what I mean.
We touched down in Vienna - Mozart International Airport? Everything in Vienna is usually called Mozart something...
At about 6:00 the morning was foggy and cold. I snuck a peak outside and my lips cracked, "Looks colder than home..."
It was magical.
He smiled and said, "Nothing beats home..." paused a little and, "Where are you going to, London?"
I said, "Oslo sir", deliberately choosing the sir over your eminence.
"School?" he asked to which I said, "Running sir."
He smiled and asked how fast I ran. For a moment I forgot that I was sitting and talking to a man who one morning, seven years back, upon being told by the press that his armed forces had attacked, the previous day, two refugee camps (Chimoio and Nyadzonya) in Mozambique and killed in cold blood more than ten thousand children responded to the question, how do you feel bishop, by saying, "My morning couldn't have started off better." sic
I can't recall about what we spoke thereafter but I did ask him where he was going, a question he clearly ducked. I didn't press the issue.
Just as we were making our decent into Schipol I had to answer nature's call. On my way back to my seat I saw that he had my folder open and was looking through it. "You are paramilitary" he nervously whispered. I could sense what he was thinking - I'd been put on the plane to arrest, assissinate or follow him.
"Not by choice your eminence (no use hiding the obvious and besides it would have been disrespectful not to honor the man, he was a man of the clothe). "I'm nobody's soldier. I'm on this flight through the grace of KLM. They are paying for my way to and from Europe... I wish you the very best in your travails, may your god be with you.
He asked for my ticket cover as we touched down. And wrote on it, Best Wishes To You Always. Bishop Abel Muzorewa.
A month later (June 1985) in London I heard on the BBC that Bishop Muzorewa was in exile in the US and seeking asylum from the Zimbabwean government. Apparantly it was during his 'escape' from the country that we sat next to each other.
He would return to Zimbabwe some years later and die of natural causes. And I would leave the country again for sporting/academic purposes the year after but only to be declared persona non grata (by the notorious Zimbabwe police force) and banished for life. Today twenty years since I last saw home or family the only links I have with the country and its people are the occassional coincidental contacts I make with the people seated next to me on airline flights who have been to Zimbabwe.

Wow! I was going to write about what a great story you shared but it may not be appropriate given the sad ending. Thank you for sharing!

Please remember that not everyone wants to talk. There are introverts among you, people who would rather just keep to themselves and not be forced to interact. Let us think our own thoughts, and if we want to talk to you, we will.

I for one don't mind being asked informational questions, but when I'm on a plane and already feeling stressed out from being crowded, the last thing I want is some chatty person invading my mental space, when I don't have enough personal space as it is.

Extroverts are fine -- just in very small doses.

James Trotta - much obliged for your kind words. Oh please don't feel sad, life hasn't been that bad... besides I've had the kindness of strangers - even those that didn't want to talk, to make my travels bearable, memorable and enriching. And I must say your blog is a breathe of fresh air for people like myself - people that loathe the smut and profanity laced postings plaguing the internet. I wish you continued good sense and judgement - picking wholesome topics etc... bless you sir.

Thank you for the kind words Brian! I really appreciate your comments here. I know people who have been separated from their familes because of the split between the two Koreas. I remember a student writing in the conclusion of his essay, "My mother and sister are alive in North Korea maybe" - what comment could I leave? How could I reply meaningfully to something like that?

It's strange to think that a normal person who jokes with his classmates, smiles often, takes his teacher out to lunch, etc. is also a person who has had (and continues to have) such a painful experience.

I suppose your story reminds me of that student and while my first reaction is to be sad, I do remember that student as a happy man. I know that people live good lives after enduring hardships that I can't imagine. I respect that.