It was a balmy day and I was strolling in Kennedy Park, in Cobh, enjoying the sun and the waters of Cork Harbour. He was lolling on a bench in a way that only Africans can. Our eyes locked. His were sharp and definite, the eyes of a man with a brain and a soul. His black face caught my attention and I was focused on his sparkling white teeth. ”Helllll..oooooo” he said. “Hi there” I replied. I walked to the bench and sat down beside him. He put out his hand and shook mine in the traditional Irish way. I tried an African handshake and managed to get to his arm but then he introduced new dimensions to the handshake, and I was lost. We tried it again and I could not cope. He had come from the cradle of civilization; I was just a traditional Irishman to whom the handshake was a tight grip and a stem eye embrace. “My name is Bob”, he said “and I come from Uganda”. “Mine is Donal”, I replied, “and I come from Ireland”. I could have added MISE EIRE but I felt he would not have understood the connotations. He spoke nine languages.

Over time, Bob and I became acquaintances, then friends. You know you have a friend when an African tells you he will look after you in your old age. I am 57, he is 35. He won't need to look after me in my old age, but it was good of him to offer! Subsequently, he suggested to me that he believed in pre-destination (I don’t) and that it was ordained in the greater universe that we should meet. Maybe so, who knows? After all, he does come from the cradle of civilization, a sort of a Crocodile Dundee. Bob is an asset to Ireland, guys like him take us back to the realm of our lost leaders.

The following weeks were interesting: he told me that if he did not see me each day his life seemed empty. I have a wife, Joyce, whom I was neglecting but she understood that I was on a mission; her philosophy has always been consistent. She enjoys helping people and she understood that I was helping Bob, although at times I was not sure who was helping whom. I have learned more from him than you could ever imagine: not just about the geography and political situations on the continent of Africa (he pronounces it Africaaaaa), but about the world at large. Philosophers have no constraints and Bob is a philosopher.

There are many poems in Gaelic that I could use to describe him fully, but they all seem irrelevant. A phrase might be enough (unlikely, but I'll try). Failte go ban chnoic Eireann, O!

I'm rambling on in this short essay which one day might be a book : when I met him in the park and told him I had to leave in ten minutes because I had an appointment he celebrated our departure with humor : as we shook hands he said “Mr. Livingstone I presume” Not Mr. Livingstone but Bob Lalango.