they say lightning doesn’t strike twice – well, scratch that. before leaving cape town this morning, i texted my regular airport cab driver, to let him know what time i will be arriving in gaborone. he texted back to say he will be waiting for me. as i alight from the aircraft in gaborone, some guy walks up to me and says, “hi, we were on the flight together on wednesday.” for the life of me, i hadn’t noticed him. but i didn’t say this, of course. we exchange pleasantries, he tells me he is a medical statistics person and i tell him i am a dramatist. as we walk towards the immigration post, he says, “i am samuel. i am from ghana. where are you from?” for some reason, his aura makes me free enough to joke with him. i introduce myself and say, “i am a motswana.” he laughs and says, “you’re not. there is something about you that says you’re not.” i tease him about being a personality reader. we laugh. then he says, “seriously, where are you from?” to which i respond, “nigeria.” he stops walking and says, “i am not trying to call you a liar, but can i see your passport?” i show it to him. he laughs and says, “i knew we were related. but you’re so light.” we laugh. i say “my mother thought my father wasn’t light enough, so she lightened his children.” we laugh. we part at the section where arriving passengers fill the entry form – as is habit, i had filled mine before boarding the flight. when i step out into the arrival hall, my cab driver isn’t there. i call him and he starts by apologizing about not being at the airport, that his cab broke down. that it will take a while to fix, so i should get another cab. i turn to a guy wearing a red marine cap, and a red “airport shuttle” crest on a white shirt to ask how much it will be to get to my place, which is less than a kilometer from the airport. he says p100. i say i always pay p50. he walks away without offering a compromise price. as i stand there, contemplating how i will get home, samuel walks out of the arrival hall, he asks if i have transport, i reply in the negative and he says, “you can come with me, i left my car here when i traveled on wednesday.” here i am, at home, thinking about the coincidence of my regular cab driver not being able to pick me, and getting a ride from someone who thinks ghanaians and nigerians are brothers. two coincidences in one day. what are the odds of getting two lessons on brotherhood in one day. it’s nice when lightning strikes twice, that the consequences is a lesson in positivity.