Marry Me Fastjet | A Mother’s Tale of Tight Connections

#AmazingExperiences | Africa’s Leading value airline, fastjet goes beyond to ensure customers connect to their flights, as discovered by Robyn Kriel.

Buckle up, a long read…

I have so many horror stories of airline delays and missed flights, that I feel I could write a novel. Arguably my worst was back in 2014 when I was a news reporter in East Africa, when we had to push our 50-seater aircraft out of a pothole in Lamu, Kenya.

So, when I was told by Fastjet Zimbabwe that our flight from Victoria Falls to Harare (on a Tuesday) was 40 minutes late, which would make our one-hour connection to Bulawayo almost impossible, I was relatively unperturbed.

Except this time I was traveling with and solo-parenting my two beautiful children. One, a very easy-going 8-year-old, and another – a not-so-easy-going toddler experiencing the Terrible Twos. We had had a lovely time in Hwange with my parents, sister and brother-in-law, yet due to the state of the road back to Bulawayo my parents had decided I should fly back with the kids, and they would drive. We would all reunite that evening in Bulawayo.

I therefore had no luggage at all (I had sent everything in the car with my parents) barring a sparse diaper bag and a purse. (Usually, I travel with an ‘in case we get stuck somewhere’ carry-on hand luggage with a spare set of everything and toothbrushes, but not this time).

When I explained that the flight was late both children stared at me. My youngest, a red-headed fiery girl-child, demanded ‘more Bluey!!!”. I complied. (Bluey is a very cute Australian cartoon about dogs and life).

My older boy smiled sympathetically, then walked over to the small Departures kiosk/café, grabbed a huge bag of cheese and onion chips off the shelf, and just walked off, opening it and shovelling chips into his mouth. I had to give him a quick rendition of ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch’ speech and send him back with money to pay the amused shopkeeper.

I eyeballed a fastjet Victoria Falls official and was pleased to see him being both proactive and engaging with all his (now pretty annoyed) passengers one-on-one. He explained to the Tourii (our nickname plural for tourists) that their flight was delayed, and alternative travel arrangements were in place to accommodate them and make sure they made their next flights.

I thought for sure that we would not feature in this equation. We were locals. We were only flying to Bulawayo, not Dubai or Qatar. I began to prepare myself mentally to sleep in Harare with my two over-tired and over-stimulated offspring who had eaten nothing but sugary and salty snacks for the past four hours, messaging my family’s extremely efficient travel agent, Peter Chuma of Galaxy Travel, to let him know the situation.

Surprisingly, Munyaradzi (according to his name tag) then came to us. He knew who we were, and told us that ground staff were aware of our delay and would rush us through airport processes to make sure we boarded our next flight to Bulawayo. I was grateful but beyond sceptical. Noting that in my youngest’s diaper bag, I had enough supplies to last about four hours, and she had picked up a tummy bug a few days earlier. Munya then took a photo of us to WhatsApp to the Harare ground staff.

The flight finally arrived, and we boarded. The flight crew were also extremely nice and professional, yet sympathetic because my youngest was throwing a fit due to lack of a nap, and probably a sore tummy. She cheered up when the extremely satisfactory snack boxes were served. Apple juice box+ Pringle chips+ Tex chocolate in a cute box with an African Grey parrot on it. A parent definitely came up with that menu.

We landed in Harare and at the domestic arrivals’ terminal; Crispen from fastjet with a wide smile and a booming voice rushed up to us, took my arm, took the diaper bag, and the four of us then sprinted Letsile Tebogo-style out of the terminal and to international departures. He cut the fastjet queue and then jumped behind the check-in desk himself to issue our boarding passes, barking orders to his colleagues in Shona.

Then he passed us onto another lovely fastjet ground handling official called Shuvai. She rushed us through immigration (front-of-the-line service again) calling out in urgency to the unimpressed immigration officials that we were travelling domestically and didn’t warrant the usual level of passport control. They complied with rolling eyes.

Another short sprint to the gate, which was closed and clearly had been for a while. Shuvai entered into a heated discussion in Shona with one of the gate agents who simply walked away, angrily ripping off his yellow reflector vest, but she shrugged it off. She then threw on the yellow vest herself, scanned our loudly beeping boarding passes through and overrode whatever was needed technologically to get us on the flight to Bulawayo.

The four of us then made a final dash (with my youngest wailing that she wanted more Bluey) through the throngs of tractors, luggage carts, buses and planes to our still waiting fastjet aircraft, where in horror I noticed the stairs were slowly being wheeled away. Had we been defeated at this final juncture; My heart sank.

Again – heated words were exchanged, Shuvai now pleading as if we were her own family, and the stairs were victoriously put back in place at the entrance of the plane. She then literally ran us on board (I was breathing heavily at this point and the two-year-old was screeching Bluey Bluey Bluey!) and was greeted by annoyed fellow passengers with raised eyebrows. I found some seats (ours were taken) and we all collapsed. The youngest instantly fell asleep as we flew away from our Zimbabwe’s capital.

Leading global airlines, you all have large shoes to fill. I’ve never experienced such VIP treatment (and we weren’t even flying business class or are frequent fastjet customers!) and they made my and my Littles’ day as we were reunited with Grandparents and Aunties and Uncles in Bulawayo. Thank you, fastjet, you now have a loyal customer in me!

Robyn Kriel