travelling camera

Image: Adobe Stock

The curious case of the travelling camera’s return [photos]

It’s very rare these days when travelling to have a lost item finding its way back to you. When it does happen, faith in human nature is restored.

travelling camera

Image: Adobe Stock

It’s a unique and unpleasant stomach-lurching feeling that is particularly unwelcome when you are travelling. 

It’s the moment when you realise that your passport, card, cash (or in my case, camera) which you saw just a few minutes ago, has gone absent without leave. It’s something that is only topped by that futile walk around a car park taken in the vain hope that your car hasn’t been stolen but that you’ve just forgotten where you parked it. 

My trusty Nikon: ‘All of those miles, all of those pictures’

There I was, tearing through the interior of my car. I was frantically searching for my trusty Nikon that had been attached to me for travels in places like Mozambique, Ghana, Egypt, the US and New Zealand. Uppermost in my mind was the indignity of it all. 

All of those miles, all of those pictures and my “right hand” goes missing somewhere near Ngodwana in Mapumalanga within smelling distance of the paper mill on the N4.

What made it worse was that the disappearance was only noticed when I was about 100km away. A part of my life and an essential working tool was gone, and, stupidly, with it, an archive of photos intended for stories yet to come.

Feeling of loss…and a camera regained

The mandatory call to the filling station at Ngodwana confirmed that (as expected) the camera hadn’t been handed in. Arriving home with a bag containing a now useless telephoto lens added to the feeling of loss.

Then, about 10 days later, a call from my wife from the hospital where she is a unit manager. “ I’ve just had a strange e-mail from head office. I’m sending it to you.”

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Superyachts in harbour, Red Sea, Egypt. Image: Kevin MacGregor

When it arrived, my spirits instantly lifted. It read:

“ I wonder if you can assist me. I’m looking for Diane MacGregor. I found her or a family member’s camera with a photo of her on it, and I’m trying to return it to her.”

Bless the Good Samaritan

The Good Samaritan (Samaritaness?) was Tamlyn Hewett from Nelspruit, who had found my camera lying in the grass on the side of the road outside Ngodwana. 

She had taken it home, cycled through the pictures it contained and had come across a photograph of my wife.

Although she was in uniform and was identified by her name tag, which featured the national healthcare group’s logo, there was no clue about which hospital she worked at.

 After some research, Tamlyn had found the head office details of the group, sent an e-mail with Diane’s picture attached and asked for help in locating the camera’s owner.

More research at head office, another e-mail to the correct hospital in Pretoria and then the message to me.

Tale of the travelling camera

A few e-mail messages between Tamlyn and I ensued. Her parents, who were visiting Nelspruit, completed the circle and transported the travelling Nikon to Johannesburg.

A  40-minute drive through to the Jozi suburb a few days later and a genial Gail Broadhurst, Tamlyn’s mom, handed over an unscratched, working camera.

To say that I have been effusive in my thanks is understating matters. I don’t think that Tamlyn or the Broadhurst’s fully understand what they have done. They not only returned a camera but also enabled me to complete jobs that otherwise would have had to be abandoned and saved some irreplaceable family moments.

Most of all, they have restored my, until now, jaded view of my fellow South Africans. Saying thank you doesn’t seem enough.