I’ve never been the “new kid.” I never moved to different city or even changed school districts. Yet whenever new people would pop up in class, I always wondered what it was like to have to start all over again and make friends. I generally tried to be nice to them for good karma just in case I was ever in their position, but I couldn’t fathom what it felt like knowing everyone knows everyone — but you. Or at least, that was true until I got to Howard University.

Before coming to Howard, one of my biggest concerns was how I was going to get to know anyone. I was petrified, thinking I was going to become a loner who spent 20 out of 24 hours in my room and sat alone every day in the dining hall, not by choice, but because no one wanted to sit next to me. Luckily, most of my fears were unfounded. I’ve been fortunate enough to find cool kids to run around and get lost in DC with, yet I still wonder how we got to that point.

But this past weekend, I made a friend.

It was Saturday morning and I had an hour to get to the MegaBus parking lot to meet my friends so we could head out for a fun weekend in Philly. Sadly, the Metro stops by campus were closed for maintenance during the holiday weekend. They promised free shuttles to compensate for the atrocity, but I arrived at the nearest stop with my bags in hand only to see the shuttle pull away. A little disheartened, I didn’t have time to wait for the next one, so I decided to walk to the next stop a few blocks down.

My dorm is not located in the nicest part of DC. It’s historical and has some places worth visiting, but it’s still a bit sketchy (though it’s nothing to fear with an angry face and quick pace). About halfway between the Shaw-Howard and Mt. Vernon stops, I saw these dudes on the corner. Dudes on the corner are nothing new, but these ones looked extra grimy. At that same moment, I saw this taxi pull up behind me and the cab driver, who was more than old enough to be my grandfather, asked me if I needed a ride.

So I looked at my options: walk past these crusty men who will hit on anything that looks female or pay the price of the taxi. Taxi won.

At first, I was a little surprised when he encouraged me to sit in the front seat. My mind instantly jumped to the worst-case scenario, and I kept thinking this is how all those overly dramatic Lifetime movies start. But when I saw the state of the backseat, my hesitation ebbed. Once inside, he immediately told me that I looked like one of his people. I didn’t know how to respond, so he clarified by having me guess what East African country we were from (I wrongly guessed Ethiopia). I never knew I was Somali, but you learn something new about yourself every day. As he continued driving, he asked me all the basic get-to-know-you questions, and I kept one eye on the meter that he never turned on. He also proceeded to tell me about his hope to do some business program run by Georgetown for older returning students and how happy he was to make a new friend. He even went as far as to make a deal with me; he would teach me Arabic if I helped improve his writing skills for the program (he taught me two whole words I can’t pronounce to seal the deal.)

By the time I had arrived at the parking lot — early — I actually felt like I had made a friend, whether I had wanted to or not. In retrospect, it may not have been the brightest idea, but deep down inside, I genuinely believe in the kindness of strangers (you can judge me on my naivete later.) Nonetheless, I left the taxi happy about the decision I made. It’s probably not one I’ll make again, but that little encounter taught me something valuable. Everyone is a stranger until you make them a friend. Even your best buddy since the fourth grade was just some shy kid in the corner until your teacher made you sit next to her in class and you realized you both love “Sailor Moon.”

So if I can make a friend with Mohammed the taxi driver, just think of who you could meet.

Do you want to be Camira’s friend, too? Then you should email her at camirap ”at” stanford ”dot” edu.