I've been looking for Mungo, my shamba boy, for over an hour in all the remote corners of the garden and inside every hedge, but there's no sign of him. He's disappeared, which he's good at, especially when there's hard work to be done. Who knows what excuse he will come up with this time; maybe he will just shrug with a smile and say:
"I'm sorry, mama."
I go to the staff house to take a peek, just in case he's still sleeping or sick.
Here he is, busted! And he's not alone: in the company of my neighbour's askari and cook, they're sipping coffee in the shade of a plant.
"Jambo."
"Jambo mama! Karibu."
They welcome me and motion me to sit with them.
"No thanks, I've already had breakfast."
"So have we, but this is relaxation break."
"What are you relaxing from if you haven't started work yet?" I ask him a little testy and I already regret my sour tone.
He keeps quiet, lowers his eyes on the steaming pot and scratches his head... he always does this when he doesn't know what to say and feels more or less unfairly accused.
"I was looking for you for that job to do ..."
"Ah... yes."
"The plant at the back needs to be cut back, it has grown too much and the branches are piercing the window screen."
"Yes, mama, I see."
"I asked you to keep an eye on it when I was in Italy and cut down the highest branches, remember?"
"Sorry mama, I forgot."
I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!
Anyway I smile and pass over it.
"It's okay, you do now though, right?"
"Sure mama."
I wait for him to get up and follow me to the back of the house, maybe already equipped with a ladder and saw so he doesn't have to go back twenty times.
Instead he sits nailed to his mat with cup in hand.
"Now?"
"Now too hot to cut big plant. Pole pole mama, now plant not growing. Better rest."
He judges like a wise chieftain.
Even the askari and the cook agree with him.
Three against one.
They win.
But yes, I say to myself, what's the hurry, the plant can wait a few hours.
I think I'll go to the beach for a while and watch the fishermen's boats sail by on the horizon.
It relaxes me and makes me think.
Reflection number one: I have to get used to the African rhythm of life again, to its slowness.
I have to remind myself that here it is useless to plan, but it is useful (for one's mental balance) to be patient and tolerant.
I could have lectured him about his indolence.
I could have urged him to be more productive and constructive... but would he have understood the meaning of my speech?
I don't think so, I would have confused his ideas, or rather, the only idea he has: to do (well) only one thing a day.
And how can I blame him?
What's the point of struggling, stressing and complicating your life by doing a thousand things? 
I learned this the hard way when I returned to Italy two months ago for my end-of-season holiday.
I had a terrible day, I'll tell you about it: since I was in town all day I decided to do all my errands at once.
I thought that if I concentrated all my tasks in the space of a few hours, then I would be free to return to the lake the next day.
Alas, after so many years in Africa I am no longer the efficient girl I once was...
Wake up at 6.45 to run to renew the driving license and be the first in the queue; unfortunately I was stuck for a century on the western ring road since everybody had the same idea to get up very early to avoid the rush hour traffic, grrrr!
Then I ran to the bank to make a bank transfer and fill out a thousand useless forms; then off like a thunderbolt to the station to make a ticket change. I parked the car a bit on the bias, maximum time allowed is ten minutes, then the fine is triggered, and here you cannot bribe the policeman with one hundred shillings.
I got my ticket and rocketed to the post office to send a registered letter: another queue and more forms.
And finally a run to the shopping centre on the other side of the city to pick up the points prize: a nice extendable and cumbersome electric broom which I will never take to Malindi ...
On the way back I was stuck again on the western ring road breathing toxic gas, but how is it rush hour again? 
Then I realized that in Italy any time is rush hour and the roads are always jammed with cars.
I arrived home nervous and with a headache and here I was faced with an unpleasant surprise: the bed to make, the dishes to wash, the bathroom to clean.
Aaaah I forgot that in Italy I have to do everything myself because I don't have my trusty fantastic houseboy!
While I'm tidying up the house the phone rings: it's my mother asking me if I've done everything. I mumble a feeble yes and tell her that I am knocked out.
"Come on, you've really become an African, haven't you? Do you know that your sister makes twice as much as you do and has two children to raise?"
"Mmmh ... she's bionic, I'm not. Hi Mom."
I glance at my watch and realise I'm only in time to swallow two moments take a quick shower and rush back out into traffic to attend happy hour downtown at a trendy club with my fashionable, career-minded city friends.
"What a twisted face you have Claudia! What have you been up to today?"
One of them asks me.
I sigh and tell the girls about my day's heroic deeds.
"So, what's the big deal? For us here in the city, life is like this every day." She replies.
Help, I think, I want to go back to Malindi, sit on the warm sand, breathe in the cool ocean and drink a tusker while watching the sunset.
Reflection number two: I am definitely no longer made to live in Italy. In the old country I would succumb because I am not a wonder-woman. And when I go back to Kenya after spending a few weeks in the productive, frenetic, competitive Brescia, I feel for two or three days like a discordant note down here in the sly and enjoyable Malindi.
It always takes me a few days of adjustment to get back to being lazy and not feeling guilty; to spend a whole day doing nothing at all and still go to bed satisfied.
Ah, what a beautiful pole pole day!
Long live laziness and slowness, let's compose a eulogy.
And if someone comes to me and says that if I don't produce, I don't earn, I reply that the rich man is not the one who has money, but the one who has the time to enjoy life.
And maybe, later on, I'll go to my fundi Geppetto and commission him to make a plaque saying: "Why do today what someone else could do tomorrow instead of you?"
Reflection number three: I've thought too much for today, so I'm going to close my eyes and get a bit of a tan.