With my baby wrapped in her kanga on my back we pass through immigration without problems and to our mutual delight find my mother and her husband Hans-Peter waiting for us. Napirai is interested by all the white faces.
On the trip up into the Bernese Oberland I notice from my mother’s face that she’s worried by my appearance. When we get home the first thing I do is take a bath: a hot bath at last! My mother has bought a little bathtub for Napirai and washes her. When I’ve been in the hot water for about ten minutes all of a sudden my whole body starts to itch. The little cuts and scratches all over my body have opened up and started to discharge. These are mostly cuts from my Masai body decoration, and in this damp climate they don’t heal well. I climb out of the bath to see my body covered with red blotches. Napirai is crying and her grandmother in despair – the baby too is covered with red spots that itch terribly. My mother is worried it might be something infectious and books us an appointment with a specialist for the next day.
He’s amazed to diagnose our complaint: scabies, an extremely rare disease in Switzerland. There are little mites under our skin which the extreme heat has set moving and which is what causes the itching. Obviously the doctor wants to know where we could have caught this. I tell him about Africa. When he discovers my other wounds some of which have cut up to half an inch into my flesh, he suggests I should have an AIDS test. That’s a bolt from the blue and knocks the wind out of me, but I’m prepared to do it. He gives me several bottles containing liquid that we should apply to the scabies three times a day and tells me to call back in three days’ time for the results of the test. Those three days not knowing are the worst thing of all.
The first day I sleep a lot and go to bed early with Napirai. The next day the phone rings and it’s the doctor for me personally. My pulse is racing as I take the receiver waiting to hear what my fate is. The doctor apologizes for calling so late but tells me he just wanted to relieve my anxiety: the test is negative. I’m overwhelmed with thanks! I feel as if I’ve been given a new lease on life, and a feeling of strength returns to my body. Now I know I’ll get over the after-effects of the hepatitis. Each day I step up my consumption of fat and eat everything my mother puts on the table.
Time drags, though, as I no longer feel at home here. We go for lots of walks, visit my sister-in-law Jelly and take Napirai out in the snow for the first time. She seems to like life here a lot, except for all the putting-on and taking-off of clothes.
After two and a half weeks I realize I don’t want to stay beyond Christmas but the first available flight is on January the first, 1990. By then I’ll have been away from home for nearly six weeks. Nonetheless parting is difficult because once again I’m thrown back on my own devices. I’m going back with nearly ninety pounds of luggage. I’ve bought or sewn presents for everybody. My family has given me lots too, and there are Napirai’s Christmas presents to pack. My brother has bought me a baby-carrier to go on my back.