Everything had been organized abruptly, like a leopard attack in a savannah lodge. For once, the African mechanics had been skipped. That great set of tactics, counter-tactics, reflections, distractions, second thoughts, actions, counter-times and movements at a speed so slow as to make one think of the changing immobility of Nature had disappeared.
Decision, preparation, and bureaucracy; within a month the leopard had struck in every single tent and proudly displayed his prey to his fellow creatures: a new passport, new clothes, and a round-trip plane ticket. The big day had arrived and Kadenge leopard David was beaming.
He would be taking his grandfather to Italy for the first time!
The idea had blossomed like a tropical flower and had colored a dinner party between Kadenge himself, Mrs. Ottavia, Svaporato and his friend Ziwani.
The nephew had thrown it there and the two of them had embroidered on it in the manner of artisans capable of transforming a piece of mango wood into a Lamu historiated door.
"Fulfilling a lifelong dream...he thinks that old man before he dies will finally be able to see what he has only ever heard of, move as a protagonist in the film that has accompanied him for a lifetime as a spectator..."
"I want to be there too," said the Swooner, "to watch my country through his eyes.
"It will be exciting...and also a lot of fun," added Kadenge.
By the end of the dinner, Mrs. Octavia had given in.
"All right, I'll fund it!"
The wealthy and sophisticated madam in white, Kadenge Davide's aging but remodeled ex and still in love with him, would host the old Kazungu as an "equal grandfather" for three months.
The most was done, now it was a matter of convincing the mzee.
This was a difficult task, not because Kazungu had not wanted to visit the Western world for a lifetime, but because of the uproar and chain reactions that would be generated throughout Kakoneni.
And so it was.
"My grandson, this is a ma-magnificent gift - exclaimed the grandfather, who seemed to be using the voice of his goats, to express himself - I hope my health holds out...will it be very cold?"
"Let's go against the spring - reassured him the Svaporato - surely it will not rain every day as in Kenya, your rheumatism will gain."
"I need to buy some decent clothes".
"We'll provide...besides, you're the same size as Ziw. He'll lend you some."
"And shoes."
"Those too..." sighed the nephew.
Ziw took note.
"And a new hat."
"These are details, Grandpa."
"Life without details is like a baobab tree without its shadow, you can observe it from afar, but you will never sit in its presence."
The Swooner took note of this as well. A little further on, at the foot of the large baobab tree, Kibebe the fool was giggling and scratching furiously at his thigh.
While the passport paperwork, to the tune of obolus and stamps, winks and shillings, proceeded downhill, in Kakoneni the time for the press conference had arrived.
The Safari Bar was the designated venue, but first there was the preview at Grandma Conjestina's.
And it wasn't exactly like cracking a coconut with a sharp blow.
"At your age, mzee?"
"I've been dreaming about it my whole life....".
Tòc.
First blow.
"You want to go back to work? Aren't you comfortable here in your village enjoying what little wealth you've created?"
"It's just a vacation...it's to have so many more things to tell the grandkids every night."
Tòc.
Second blow, well struck.
"You might like it and never come back!"
"I've heard so much about Italy, it's like I've already lived there. This is the place I chose to live, I wasn't forced there. I could have gone to Switzerland when I was young, and then to Rome. I had job offers from Nairobi, Dar Es Salaam. My home is Kakoneni, I could never stay long without the village that I saw form and develop as I dreamed as a boy, without my people, my family."
The third blow had shattered his wife's hard head, you could taste the sweet pulp of her heart and quench your thirst with the lukewarm juice that came out of it, in the form of tears.
"I will wait for you like the sun after the rainy season."
"Together with him I go, together with him I shall return" Kazungu promised.
At the Safari Bar it was easier but definitely pyrotechnical.
Manager Kibonge did not comment, offered the old man a ginger ale and retired behind the counter with pen and paper. Electrician Makotsi repeated like an enchanted record
"Why him and not me? Why him and not me?"
"You have your whole life ahead of you, Makotsi," Kadenge comforted him.
"It would be dangerous for you," smiled the Swollen One, "you would find work and return only when the winter turns very cold."
"Why in a year and a half? Maybe I won't come back..."
Kadenge cut him off with the look of one who has already passed along the path of his imagination, clearing it with panga strokes.
"Because the first winter catches you by surprise and you think it passes quickly, but by the second one a giriama is not fooled!"
Lawrence Kamongo vigorously shook Kazungu's hand.
"You will be our ambassador to Italy! Bring the culture of the Kenyan coast, teach the cooks how to cook 'sima na maharagwe', build a makuti roof and in the evening tell our legends."
During the speech the cell phone representative was moved and with shining eyes hugged his friend. Then he quickly detached himself and looked at him from head to toe, as if he wanted to give him one last official investiture. He put a hand in the inseparable briefcase.
"I give you this Samsung with whatsapp. It will be useful in Italy. In exchange, however, send me a text message every two or three days...so you can tell me..."
What's up...essemes, mentally repeated grandpa Kazungu, returning the previous hug.
Kibonge in the meantime had finished a kilometer-long list of wishes from Europe. A ceramic bottle opener with Italian writing, a red beer can with a moustache, a Buffon poster, Beck's counter towels and a dozen other smaller and useless items stood out. Grandson Kitsao also made his way over.
"Grandpa, I would like a compass, a protractor and the garzanti encyclopedic dictionary."
Kazungu greeted the requests with a smile, the Svaporato wrote and would fulfill the inevitable task, knowing full well that Grandpa would not otherwise return to Kakoneni.
"And you, what do you want?" finally asked Kibebe the Idiot.
"They sell everything in Italy, don't they?"
"Almost everything, millions more than here," said Kadenge Davide.
"Then buy me another shade for that, please!"
They all turned and were painted pink by the late afternoon sun.
Kibebe's finger was as still as a cat on the tip, piercing the bar window and pointing at the large baobab tree.
(END OF CHAPTER ONE)