I met her on a rainy day, she was a foreigner, I felt like one too. The smell of the meals she was preparing lured me in, they were familiar in a unfamiliar setting. It reminded me of the distinct sensation of driving though the low-veld of South Africa - the smell of Africa. Poignant, filling every atom of existence, a remembrance of gratitude. We talked for a while, I promised to bring her some cooking utensils. When I returned, she was gone. Still she only exists in my memory. COVID.