There is a story about Ricky which I am so very fond of telling. It concerns a five minute encounter between two pilots.
It was beautiful crisp Denver morning and we ( Ricky and I ) had just parked and deplaned the aircraft. As it was customary in our airline, whenever an exchange of aircraft occurred, the relieving First Officer would double up and do the post flight for inbound one. This way both pre and post inspections would be completed and efficiencies gained. Prior to arrival our computer system ACARS would give a print out of everything concerning the next flight. I recall Ricky’s eyes as he reads the name of his counterpart taking our airplane out. He looks at me and says “ He is front East Africa!” .
Now being a language person myself I was surprised how he could state this with such certainty. He then informs me he had grown up there and spoke Swahili, and that this FO’s last name was from that region. To which I responded “ Then you must speak to Thomas in Swahili “. We could barely contain our delight in imagining how the encounter would transpire.
Our hope to see a great unequivocally rare moment seemed to vanished as only we ( flight’s crew) remained on the tarmac. Then out of the building comes out Thomas. Running towards us and apologizing profusely for not being able to meet our aircraft and give the FO said common courtesy. Without a moment’s hesitation Ricky says to him in Swahili “no problem” . Thomas just froze. Never imagining that anyone, least of all another pilot ,would be talking to him in his mother tongue. To see a colleague giving the joy of familiarity and home to another who so missed his land IS a memory that was forever imprinted.
