I spent an unusual couple of hours with a Mr Amos Dlamini and an Ethiopian number plate supplier. This is the kind of delightful encounter that still happens in Johannesburg.
When I came out of the Norwood Spar, Mr Dlamini, a driver for a family in Garden Road, was waiting to tell me he had reversed into my car and smashed my number plate.
I drove behind him to the shop of an Ethiopian number plate maker, where he ordered a replacement and paid the R195 for it.
Then he walked me to my car and we shook hands and said goodbye.
By this time we had got to know about one another's lives and the life of the Ethiopian supplier.
Back at my flat, Charles Nyathi, a Zimbabwean security guard, clicked the new number plate into place for me in a couple of minutes.
I unlocked the door of my flat feeling blessed and abundant, and cared for in unexpected ways by citizens who are the 'salt of the earth', as my father would say.
