A waif-like figure swooned by me in the hotel’s reception area, briefly compelling me to consider what I was about to consume for breakfast. I decided to forego a plate of cooked food, settling instead for coffee and a side plate of small cakes of rocklike consistency – you know, the kind you’d give to a budgie to sharpen its beak. One of these cakes contained sultanas, reminiscent of large fat ticks one finds on African cattle.

Being of the Dark Continent myself, and somewhat dim-witted, I like to dunk biscuits into coffee. I was never allowed to do this as a kid and when caught would get a smack on the back of my head. Thus, with some trepidation, and when I thought no-one was looking, this is what I did. At which point a large chunk of cake dislodged itself and sank like a stone then clunked on the base of my cup. Experience has taught me not to go fishing after it with a spoon as this creates the concrete mixer effect. After spooning out the sultana that had subsequently bobbed to the surface I drained my cup and was rewarded with a soggy mass of cake lying at the bottom which I spooned out and consumed.

";Lesi sidingakalo ba nambitheba" a deep throated Zulu voice behind me made an observation to his companion that this must taste delicious.

When Africans encounter one another on a foreign continent it’s a little as I imagine it must be when two Masons recognise each other across a crowded room. We exchanged a knowing look and a moment later were locked in an African soul shake, agreeing that only another African could truly appreciate the joy it brings to find an unexpected gift at the end of cup. My Zulu friend cackled softly as though the day was perfect and he couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be.

Its chance encounters like this that adds colour and spice to life, buoying one’s spirit.