When I think of my friend Onias, an orphaned musician my age struggling to make a living as a musician in Zimbabwe, I think of his hospitality on July 15, 2006.

He wanted to show us his hometown, so after a delightful visit with his uncle, we went to Wedza in search of a place to perform. He suggested a bar whose only customers were men drinking from unmarked jugs. The owner turned down the radio as I got out my violin to play a fast movement of Bach. Halfway through, Onias planted himself in front of me and pointed at his watch. He then said tersely, "Let's go." Turns out one of the fellows who had a bit to drink was anti-American and wanted to make trouble, so Onias had probably saved my life.

Determined to justify our outing, he stopped to buy yams and sugarcane from a group of women and children standing by the road. I played violin for the children, who giggled at the unfamiliar sounds. Onias improvised along with me on his mbira (thumb piano).

Over peanut butter sandwiches at his home in Marondera, Onias told me of his project to preserve traditional Shona culture. It became so successful that the National Arts Council decided to take the name for its own project and forced him to choose another name. That night, we heard Onias' band, Rovambira, play in the back lot of Tony's Kitchen, a restaurant in Marondera. Seeing the rapturous reception Rovambira received confirmed my commitment to maintaining the connection with Onias.

Since then, he and I keep in frequent e-mail contact. His organization took the name Kingsdowne Heritage House. I occasionally helped him and his friends work out the sorts of issues facing any non-profit, and I was astonished and delighted when, at the height of Zimbabwe's economic crisis, one of his colleagues asked me to review an application he wrote for funding from the National Arts Council, proof that hope never dies even at the darkest of times.

Onias is still at work playing music, teaching children, and preserving Shona culture. The last time I saw him on our last day in Zimbabwe three years ago, Onias spoke in Shona, which he did occasionally as a teasing way of testing my knowledge. "Fambai zvakanaka," he said. Go well. "Amai na baba." Mother and father. Then he said something I didn't understand. "What was that?" I asked.

He hesitated with the air of someone who thinks he might be asking too much. Then, he said softly that it would mean a lot to him if my parents sent him an e-mail. I found that I could not speak for a long time. When I recovered, I assured my orphaned friend that they would.

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Click here to read William's travelogue about the 2006 Zimbabwe project. Click here to read a travelogue about the 2007 Zimbabwe project by Sarah Frisof and Dawn Smith.