I don't think I understand everything about this place after only fifteen days of vacation between savannah and sea of Kenya. I don't think so, because I barely understood anything about my first forty years of life, my first marriage after four years and many other things about my country and my city, Bologna.
But I want to tell you what my heart felt and what it tried to tell me in those days of wonder, astonishment, horror and pain.
He told me that I am a human being and that I belong to the same kind of people who live much worse than me, not because of their fault but because they were born in a different place from mine, with another history, other problems and a predisposition not to be prevaricators, if not in a natural way, to survive, with the weakest.
I have seen the wonder of the uncontaminated savannah, for miles and miles until I saw minibuses full of tourists whose only goal was that of very expensive cameras with which to immortalize animals that after a few months they would have relegated in a folder of their hard disk.
I saw the busy roads full of overtaking trucks that risked accidents without the slightest sense of danger, as if they had passed in a short time from battles with bows and arrows to challenges on the asphalt, where there is no other alternative between life and death.
I have seen dawns in front of the Indian Ocean that you wonder if every day can be a rebirth, a dialysis, a chemotherapy, a way to overcome all the fears of our time and our fragility.
I have seen Kenya, a country with a thousand faces that ask to be understood, because in their gaze there are the most foul things but also the most glorious things of being men and women today.
In fifteen days I didn't understand anything, but I absorbed more positive energy than in the last twenty years, returning to freedom, lightness, imagination, naivety and perhaps even the stupidity of when I was a child and adolescent. Thank you Kenya, thank you Africa for giving me all this.