On a Bus in Malta

One of my favourite travel things is meeting other Africans abroad.

The big smile of recognition, the immediate far-flung fellowship, the “my sista, what are you doing here?” and the peal of laughter after because Lord knows.

I meet Edmond on a bus to Victoria on a day the sun decides to roast us all to a medium rare. The lure of a SIM card calls to me from the centre of the Maltese island and I’m feeling particularly proud of myself for having figured out the cheapest public transport when Edmond gets on and smiles in greeting.

We do the thing that Africans abroad do and immediately begin an animated conversation in a bus that is silent save for the mechanical sound of its moving and the muted sonic blur of street noise.

“Where are you from? How long will you be here?” says Edmond, trying to gauge whether I’m a passing traveller or a new island friend. I tell him and he says he’s heard that Namibia is beautiful, a good place and that he’s from Ghana.