There is a gentle breeze blowing down from the hills of Nyeri, caressing the lilac Jacaranda trees in bloom and seeming to carry with it a whisper of names: Italian names, names that would have been forgotten forever were it not for the town's Italian military memorial.

Here, the breeze that tries to free the sun's rays from the humidity of the previous day's rain pronounces them softly, as African winds do when they do not want to disturb anyone but know they can reach anywhere, and slips between the gravestones of the memorial, where 676 compatriots have been sleeping for eighty years and more, in a silence that Italy tends to forget but Africa continues to cherish.

Yesterday, the Italian Ambassador-designate to Kenya, Vincenzo Del Monaco, who has just arrived in Nairobi but is already immersed in the gentle gravity of this country where memory often has the colour of red earth, gave importance and recognition to that silence. Joining him in paying tribute to the fallen were the Deputy Governor of the County, Kinaniri Waroe, Captain Antonino Mazzocca and the Carabinieri in full dress uniform, coinciding with National Unity and Armed Forces Day. It was a moment of reflection and remembrance during the mass officiated by the Archbishop of Nyeri, Monsignor Antony Muheria, but also a moment of true and heartfelt thoughts and words. Such as those that the Minister of Defence, Guido Crosetto, sent to the Italian Embassy in Kenya for the occasion.

Del Monaco read these words to the large gathering of Italian citizens and the many Kenyans present in the church, emphasising how “the monument and the gravestones dedicated to the Italian soldiers and the askaris tell of a shared humanity, a solidarity that was able to overcome the barriers of language and faith”.

Indeed, Italian soldiers and African askaris shared the same fate in prison camps scattered across Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania between 1941 and 1946. Today, their remains rest together and who knows, perhaps their souls have long since mingled, like dust after rain.

‘Commemorating the fallen of Nyeri,’ added Crosetto, ‘means reaffirming the value of memory as the foundation of our identity and as a constant reminder of peace.’

Among them, in that peace that knows no borders, is Amedeo di Savoia, Duke of Aosta, the man who commanded and then was taken prisoner like his soldiers. Here, far from statues and proclamations, he has become part of the silent chorus of those who have stopped fighting.

The diplomat then thanked the Italian community who had gathered for the occasion – missionaries, lay people, curious onlookers, nostalgics and devotees – and paid tribute to those who, for decades, have kept this place alive with the constancy of gardeners of the soul: the missionaries of the Consolata, discreet guardians of the shrine and of a history that has turned to dust, but not indifference.

At the end of the celebration, those present gathered for a simple and convivial lunch in the mission premises, organised by Comites Kenya.

Between a plate of pasta and a glass of wine, memories became stories, and for a moment the names carved in marble came back to life, between toasts and smiles, like old relatives on the other side of the world who remember you.

In Nyeri, among the hills and eucalyptus trees, the memorial remains one of the symbolic places of the Italian presence in Kenya and a bridge of memory between two peoples who, even through the memory of their fallen, continue to share values of respect, solidarity and peace.

And every now and then, when the right wind blows, it seems to say that time does not heal everything, but at least, here, it no longer hurts.