I was in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, doing human-rights work. I made several Malawi friends. We decided we would go out in the countryside to camp. The African terrain was beautiful. We pitched a large tent and enjoyed chatting after roasting chicken over the campfire. We spoke Chichewa, the main indigenous language in Malawi. Before sunset, I saw, at a distance, an animal slowly approaching us. It was long and slender, about a-foot-and-a-half in length. It was a mongoose. When I stood up, the mongoose stopped coming toward us. We stood there looking at each other. After several minutes, I began to walk in measured steps toward it carrying with me some crispy cooked chicken skin. The mongoose didn't move. In due course, I got within 10 feet of the mongoose and sat down in the tall grass. The mongoose still hadn't moved, which surprised me. I tossed a piece of chicken skin at it. It landed within a couple of feet of it, but still the mongoose didn't move, only lying in the tall grass looking at (and smelling, no doubt) me. The sun continued to set. Finally, the mongoose moved toward the piece of chicken, smelled it, then picked it up and ate it, then lay down again in the grass. After a few more minutes, I tossed another piece toward the mongoose, again landing about two feet from it. And again, after a few minutes, it moved toward the chicken and repeated this ritual. I continued to do the same thing until the mongoose was within, I'd say, about four feet from me. The sun had set, but the two of us sat close to each other in the tall grass for about another half-hour, neither of us moving. I felt we were, each of us in or own way, getting to know each other. This was most surprising and satifying to me. Finally, I slowly arose and began making my way back to what was left of the campfire. When I turned around, I saw the mongoose then get up and amble into the darkness. I had made another friend in Malawi.