An Unexpected Familiarity: Meeting Bantwana founder Gill Garb.

The thing about meeting important people is that you usually know the script before you even arrive. Be composed. Be precise. Don’t say too much. Don’t say too little. Above all, don’t get it wrong. Having worked across different organisations, I’ve come to understand that hosting a high-profile delegate often feels like walking a tightrope measured steps, careful words, quiet observation. Nothing comes bigger than meeting the founder of an organisation you work for!
So when I accompanied my boss, Mbonisi (Executive Director Bantwana Zimbabwe), to the airport to receive Gill Garb, founder of Bantwana, I carried that same quiet caution with me.
We waited.
And waited.
About twenty-five minutes passed before she finally emerged through the main arrivals gate at the airport. The moment she appeared she wore a warm, easy smile, the kind that travels faster than introductions. She embraced my boss like an old friend reunited after years apart. Well I learned it had been some time.

I hesitated for a split second. Do I follow the hug? Do I stay formal? Maybe I am overthinking this…am I?
Instinct won. I stretched out my hand for a handshake.
It was the right thing to do.
In the three minutes that followed—while Mbonisi went to retrieve the car—we stood by the side of arrivals and talked. Not about work. Not about agendas. But about the weather, a passing comment on American politics, and the long journey to Zimbabwe. It was light, unforced, and strangely familiar.
“I like her,” I thought.
And just like that, the tension I had carried dissolved. There was something about her presence— that made her feel approachable, or the way she spoke, freely and warmly, as if you had known her all along. She talked a lot, yes, but never in a way that overwhelmed. It felt more like being drawn into a conversation already in motion.
By the time we got into the car, I no longer felt like someone meeting a senior delegate. I felt, in a quiet but undeniable way, like I was part of something—like I had always belonged to the Bantwana story.
At the hotel, despite the long journey and visible fatigue, she still wanted to sit down for tea. To talk. To connect. That, more than anything, struck me. The energy to engage, even when rest would have been the easier choice.

The two-day meeting that followed was full, dynamic, and layered—but that’s a story for another time. My moment came on the final day to interview Gill. In a lush green garden, with Josh the cameraman quietly setting the frame, we sat down.
And we talked.
I asked her about the early days of Bantwana—those formative stages when vision is often bigger than resources. I asked about where the organisation stands today, and what the future holds. She answered with the same openness I had experienced from the very first minutes at the airport—reflective, honest, and deeply grounded in purpose.
Gill and I after the interview
It didn’t feel like an interview.
It felt like a conversation.

An honour, truly—not just to meet her, but to listen.