The Girl On the Train by John Hermon

(Photograph by Jim Muller)

For me, you were never just the African girl on the train. From the moment I first saw you I sensed that you would become significant in my life. But I never dreamed of the consequences which would follow that chance encounter.

I shall always remember that moment when I first saw you – although I’m sure that for you it was just another train journey.

It was a warm summer evening and I was tired after a long day of tedious meetings in London – but even through the fog of my fatigue I quickly became aware of your presence. Perhaps it was just the bright colours of your African dress which attracted my attention but, as I reflect now, I remember above all your laugh as you chatted with your friends, and that gleeful chuckle which was so infectious. Even in my sleepiness I could feel the corners of my mouth creasing into a smile, a welcome tonic to make my homeward journey pass more swiftly. I almost regretted the moment when the train drew into the station where I was to leave. You also left the train there; as I watched you disappear into the crowds of travellers I found myself wondering – and hoping – that perhaps one day our paths might cross again.

I took a holiday in Scotland, sailing around the islands of the west coast, then returned home to resume the familiar rhythms of work and domestic life. Yet even though my life was busy and fulfilling, I could not forget that abiding image of the lovely African girl and her laughter.

Come mid-September, and once again time for my children to resume their studies at the local campus of our University. I knew that my daughter had decided to take a module on African Studies as part of her Geography degree course. One evening she enthusiastically described her new African lecturer whose speciality was Water Resources. I realised she was talking about you, the girl I had seen on the train.
I said nothing to my daughter but I was delighted to know that you were still in town. The dream rekindled and I kept hoping that one day soon I might see you again.
Sometimes, just sometimes, what appear to be random events conspire in our favour. The company I work for manufactures geological drilling equipment. One day my manager told me that as a philanthropic gesture they were considering sponsoring a project to drill wells in an arid area of east Africa; would I be interested in managing the project?

For me, this was an ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ type question. I hope that I did not appear too over-eager as I accepted the job!

I asked my daughter to invite you to our home – strictly a business meeting, of course!

Well, yes, we did begin by discussing our mutual interest in water supplies; your passion for your vision to see desert areas bloom into fruitfulness was evident and infectious and I was delighted to realise that I might be able to help; your knowledge of the language and customs of the peoples amongst whom I was to work would be invaluable. But I also quickly confirmed that my first impressions when I saw you on the train had not been mistaken. That enthusiasm for life, that laugh and irresistible chuckle kept breaking through into our conversation – and time had wings!
Since that day we have had many conversations together – and they have not all been about wells and boreholes!

So tomorrow I am going take the plane to Nairobi.

Who can tell what the future might bring?

By John Hermon