My friend, Ayesha, just tagged me on this memory. The whole experience of our meeting, and the role her brother would play in getting me from Germany to Zimbabwe by July 31 to vote on election day rates as one of the more inexplicable experiences of my life to date.
A thread.

We were at this digital media conference. And Ayesha and I got on like a house on fire. Every spare minute after sessions, we would spend talking and talking. We had met just there, but people thought we maybe knew each other from somewhere else.

My flight out of Dusseldorf, back to Harare and via Dubai, was booked for 29 July. I had been sure to tell the organisers that I would need to be back in Zim by 30 July, because elections were on the 31st. I had spend TWO days in voter registration queues and I needed to vote

Anyway, I made a small detour to Berlin after the end of the conference. The plan was that I'd get on a ride share from Berlin to Dusseldorf on the 29th to catch my flight. All was good until the driver who was meant to pick me up in Berlin was not showing up.

With Germans being as punctual as they are about time, my Berlin friend began to panic about 5 minutes after the driver was supposed to pick me up. I didn't think much of it, but she asked me to phone him. He said he was just down the road. 15 minutes later, he wasn't there.

At this point, we attempt to call but his phone is no longer available. And we know there is a problem. In our time calculations, there is still enough time for us to go to the train station and for me to get the train to Dusseldorf. So we head to the station and find a service.

My friend remains uneasy and says she will call Emirates just to alert them I might be delayed. I don't think much more about this... until one station in, the train just simply grinds to a halt. An announcement is made on the intercom in German and I am lost.

I ask the girl sitting next to me if she speaks English and what's been said. She speaks limited English but explains the train has had a technical issue and that they've said technicians need to come and inspect the problem. So we are stuck there until then.

At this point, all my suppressed panic surfaces. How is all this drama possible?! How long shall we wait. Can this issue get fixed in time for me to catch my flight. It's all kinds of dire and the wait is a long one.
Eventually, after an hour, the technicians arrive and tinker.

We are told the train is back on its way. Which is a relief. But evidently, it's moving much slower than it normally would and losing more time. The journey, already a long one, is nerve racking. But I keep imagining I'll get to the airport station and things will somehow be okay

They obviously aren't. I get to the airport station and run for dear life to my terminal and to the check in counter. I am told I am far too late for check in. I try to plead and beg, but the person at the check-in desk tells me my flight is already on the runway and that's it.

The cruelty of the situation feels unfair. I've done everything within my control to do what's right. But life is intervening in horrible ways. The first day of voter registration, the ZEC office closes at 7 pm when I am third from front of the queue.I've spent my whole day there

Still, I am defiant and I go back the very next day and spend over half another day there. Voting is a right and I will fight for it! But I am also acutely aware of my privilege to even have a day-and-a-half to stand in line to guarantee my civic duty.

So missing this flight feels excruciatingly awful. In my disenchantment, I call the conference organisers to explain. But I also post about all of this on Facebook...

And that's when Ayesha sees the post.

We have talked briefly about the fact that her brother is a pilot. But it's not something I have internalised much. But she sees the post, asks what airline I am scheduled on. And it's Emirates. And her brother is a pilot on Emirates. And she is going to ask him if he can help.

In the mean time, as it's so late at night, and even though the conference organisers offer to have me put up somewhere, I decide to sleep at the airport. A Nigerian woman, who is doing the cleaning night shift, worries that I won't have a bed. I tell her I will be okay.

Early the next morning, I'm at the check-in desk again, trying to see if there is any possibility of anything. There are two daily flights out of Dusseldorf to Dubai. One leaves in the afternoon and is the only chance of my getting to Dubai and connecting to Harare by the 31st.

It is fully booked. Sigh. Ayesha tells me to sit tight and just wait nonetheless. I mill around the airport, feeling a bit like this won't happen. But around noon, I head back to the check-in counter just to hear the latest.

The woman takes my passport, looks into the system and then looks at me. And then looks at the system again. She is obviously confused.
"How did you get on this flight," she finally asks me.
I am confused.
"Am I on this flight?" I ask her.

Apparently, I am now on this flight! What??! She explains to me that that this is only possible if an employee uses their benefits/ rewards to manually add someone to a flight.
I explain to her that I have a friend with a brother who works with Emirates who must have done so.

She looks at me again and says, yes, that's what has happened. She hands me a boarding pass and another one for the flight out of Dubai to Harare. There is no availability on that flight as it is also fully booked. That board pass says I am on standby.

So I fly out of Dusseldorf and get to Dubai. By this time, I am offering play by plays of this situation on my Facebook. And people are likening it to the 'Amazing Race'. I know the chances of my getting on a flight from Dubai to Harare before the 31st are slim though.

At this point, I am okay with nothing else happening. It's been a good run. People have shown up and done some amazing things. I have to sleep in the airport again for another night. And then wait to see what's possible the morning of the 31st.

Voting stations will close at 5pm, so even if I do get on the morning flight from Dubai to Harare, via Lusaka, I will arrive around 5 pm or just after. So this option doesn't sound like much. At this point, I just want to exit these airports and go home and cut my losses.

So in the morning, I saunter to the check in counter. I am not expecting anything at all. Just waiting to hear I am still on standby, as I was the night before. And that's when the attendant says to me it's my lucky day because someone has cancelled their flight and I am in.

Nah. Sounds like fiction. Even I am just like But I am telling this story in real time on my Facebook. And that's when someone tells me that there is a possibility I would get to Harare in time to vote ... because some voting centres are going to stay open until 7pm now.

At this point, we are just going with it! So I get on this flight and say a little prayer it doesn't delay or anything. My feet have swollen up to the size of balloons and I am just like whew, which level of adventure is this?!

The flight is on time. Nothing weird happens. We arrive in Harare on time. As I get my luggage, I tell my story to one of the Civil Aviation Authority people by the baggage carousel. Apparently, we are from the same constituency so she knows which stations are open until 7 pm.

She tells me the exact one where she says she knows there isn't a queue at all. And so once out of the airport, it is where I go at the speed of knots. Surely enough, I get the air. There is no queue. I head in and do my thing.

As I drop my pieces of ballot paper into the different boxes, I am a little bit in awe of this sequence of tenacity, community common purpose and synchronicity.
It remains one of the wildest stories of my life thus far. But it reminds me what is possible.
I am so thankful for it.

-THE END-