At the end of July, every year from at least thirty to now, in Malindi and Watamu the tourist season starts again, which means seeing a good number of Italians arrive (and often return).
There are those who have been waiting for them for months to restart their personal business, the micro or medium activity that allows them to survive and sometimes even something more, in the fantastic coastal world where the precariousness fits so well with the philosophy of living to the day, so much so that even some old mothers and respectable "mzee" of the village prefer the acrobat son rasta rather than lawyer.
However, there are also those who are waiting for this period of time to be rehired by hotels and restaurants that take on seasonal employees, and those who have studied or practiced trades so they need a few people around. The famous mzungu here is in danger of collapsing if the mzungu fails.
Then there are the "informal" workers, perhaps the most visible and best known to those who live in the two towns and those who frequent them. How will they approach an August without Italians?

THE GIRLS OF THE NIGHT

What will the beautiful panther do in the evening, who used to have a drink with friends in a downtown club and then go wild dancing after midnight on the Fermento slope and didn't miss a beach party at the Rosada?
Some of them have become experts in currency exchange and online money transfer methods, and discreet accountants, since they have to manage monthly income from their many boyfriends. There are those who consider them "exclusive" partners and actively participate in their misfortunes and dreams. There is a simple little house to build in the suburbs for the future fiction entitled "Two Hearts and a Hut", but the unforeseen events here are the order of the day: the mud after the rains has swallowed the foundations built like this and so...the wind has uncovered the roof and so on. When the houses are five or six, depending on the exclusive customer park, in the evening it's a big headache, other than drinking beer and dancing ... almost better to be a student.

THE SO-CALLED FISHERMEN

Those that Italians are used to call "fishermen" and who, with a phone call, show up at the gate of the villa or in front of the Bar with their fresh or presumed seafood, in reality they are not fishermen, but retailers.
They buy at 10 from those who go to sea and resell at 15, 20 or 25 depending on the degree of acting during the attempted sale of the product, their knowledge of the Italian language and the buyer.
Used to taking those who are in a hurry and starting from three times the price to make those who love to bargain believe that they have made a good deal, now fish retailers are forced to deal with only one retail price for residents and also try the special offers: "if you buy 3 kg of shrimp, as a gift two octopuses" or "take red snapper today and pay the day after tomorrow when I bring you squid".  

THE BEACH BOYS

In addition to the many regularly registered "Beach Operators", who are busy cleaning up the beaches and trying to earn money by recycling plastic, there are many so-called "beach boys" (the "old-fashioned" ones, in short) who are usually popular on the ocean shore in search of daily chapati.
How will the little boy spend his days learning a new word of Italian every day to better converse and impress the tourist?
Until now he couldn't go back to the beach, now the beaches will reopen but they will be empty.
He could try to approach the peers who come from Nairobi for their holidays.
It will be necessary to speak in English, and even decently otherwise the Kikuyu also take them for the southern pronunciation. "Boat" and not "Boti", "Church" and not "Chachi", "Teacher" and not "Ticcia", "Tusker" and not "Tasca".
What a hard work, much better the Italian...the mzungu always understand you and give you great compliments for the way you speak it.
Even if you say "Amigo" or ask "Where did you come from?".
Then the Kenyans don't know that you're not there by chance, but because you're a beach professional. They think you're a beggar, a junkie like the street kids in Nairobi.
You don't have time to explain to them that you'd take them on safari in a new Land Cruiser or a boat to Sardinia 2. Also because they barely know Sardinia 1.
They look at you with the expression "thank you, I can go on a boat by myself". Then you discover that they can't even swim.

THE CHANGEMEN

And how will the black-tie drivers in the square, and Lamu Road, fool the weather?
Someone's using the dollars they have left in their hand to play bao, the local lady, with friends. One day you lose it, then you win it back, and you always end up with more or less what you have.
Others bet on Tanzanian bitcoins and try to understand how to deal with the Rwandan Franco and the Ethiopian Birr.
The more enterprising are studying alternative markets, downloading apps and networking, trying to convince those who will arrive at Christmas that there is now a favorable change and it's worth booking shillings. Then, at the limit, if it is necessary to change their identity before the return of their tourist friends.

THE HOUSEBOYS

Those who are perhaps best off are the houseboys in the mansions and estate houses. They haven't seen anybody for three or four months and for as many months it will be difficult for their employers to come back to the area again. But their commitment, dedication and presence are necessary so that the African residence doesn't go to hell. As John Belushi used to say, "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it".
One day every other day, dusting a piece of furniture, slapping a pillow, washing a portion of the veranda floor. A hard work that is rewarded with healthy naps on the comfortable bed in the master bedroom or with the pleasure of starting the off-road vehicle every now and then and taking it on a parade to the native village, unless you have to call your mechanic friend to bring back the miles.
No, not all the affectionate, historical employees of the many closed Italian houses are like that.
There are even worse ones. But those we know, they are all good and underneath they know they are also very lucky.