The Final Flight

On our last day I leave everything behind. My husband insists that I pack just a few things for Napirai. I hand over all the bank account cards to him to prove that I’ll be back. Who would give away so much money, a car and a fully stocked shop?

Torn this way and that and not knowing whether to believe me, he comes with Napirai and me as far as Mombasa. Right up until we’re about to set off for Nairobi he still hasn’t signed the piece of paper. I ask him one last time and tell him I’m going anyway. I’m so burned out internally, so emptied of all emotion, that there are no more tears left.

The driver starts up the engine. Lketinga is standing next to us in the bus and once again has one of the other passengers translate the letter I’ve written out which says that I have the permission of my husband Lketinga Leparmorijo to leave Kenya with our daughter Napirai for three weeks’ holiday in Switzerland.

The bus driver parps his horn for the third time. Lketinga scribbles his mark on the piece of paper and says: ‘I don’t know if I see you and Napirai again!’ and then he jumps off the bus, and we set off. It’s only now that I burst into tears and I look through the window as we rush past the scenes I know and have loved and say goodbye to them.

 

 

Dear Lketinga,

 

I hope you can forgive what I am about to tell you: I am not coming back to Kenya.

I have been thinking a lot about us. For more than three and a half years I loved you so much that I was prepared to live with you in Barsaloi. I presented you with a daughter but ever since the day you alleged that child was someone else’s I could no longer think of you in the same way. You realized this too.

I have never wanted anyone else, and I never lied to you but in all these years you never understood me, perhaps because I’m a mzungu. My world and yours are very different, but I thought that one day we could live together in the same world.

Now, however, after the last chance we had in Mombasa, I realize that you are unhappy and I certainly am. We are both still young and can’t go on living the way we are. Right now you won’t understand me, but in time you’ll see that you will be happier with someone else. It’s easy for you to find a new wife who lives in your world, but find a Samburu woman this time and not another white woman. We’re too different. One day you’ll have lots of children.

I have taken Napirai with me because she’s all I have left. I also know that I will never have any other children. Without Napirai I couldn’t survive. She is my life! Please, Lketinga, forgive me! I’m simply not strong enough anymore to continue living in Kenya. I always felt very alone there, had no friends and you treated me like a criminal. You didn’t even know you were doing it, that’s just Africa. But I tell you once again: I never did anything wrong.

Now you have to make up your mind what to do with the shop. I’m writing to Sophia too. She can help you. I’m giving you the whole business but if you want to sell it, you’ll have to deal with Anil, the Indian. 

I will help you from here as much as I can and I won’t leave you in the lurch. If you have problems, tell Sophia. The rent for the shop is paid up until the middle of December, and even if you don’t want to work there anymore you must talk to Anil. I’m giving you the car too and am enclosing the signed paperwork for you. If you want to sell the car you should get at least 80,000 shillings. You will have to find someone reliable to help you. Then you will be a rich man.

Please don’t be sad, Lketinga. You’re young and good-looking and you’ll find a better wife. Napirai will always remind me happily of you. Please try to understand me! I would have died in Kenya, and I don’t think that’s what you wanted. My family don’t think ill of you, they still like you but we are just too different.

 

 Best wishes from Corinne and family.

 

 

Dear James,

 

I hope you are okay. I am in Switzerland and very sad. I realize now that I can never come back to Kenya. I have written to Lketinga today to tell him. I no longer have the strength to live with your brother. I felt very alone there, just because I was white. You saw how things were with us. I gave him another chance in Mombasa but things got worse instead of better. I loved him very much, you know. But the row over Napirai ripped a huge hole in that love, and from that day on we only argued from morning to night. Every thought he had was negative. I don’t think he really knows what love is, because if you love someone, you can’t say things like that to them.

Mombasa was my final hope, but he didn’t change. It was like a prison. We opened a good shop but I don’t think he’s capable of working there on his own. Please go to Mombasa as soon as possible and talk to him! He has nobody left now and is all on his own. If he wants to sell the shop I can talk to Anil on the phone but I have to know what he wants to do. He can keep the car too. Please, James, go to Mombasa as soon as you can because Lketinga will need you very much when he gets my letter.

I will help as much as I can from Switzerland. If he sells everything he will be rich but he’ll have to be careful or else your large family will simply use up all the money fast. I don’t know how the shop is doing in my absence but business has been good up to now. Please go and see because there is a lot of money tied up in the shop in the form of gold jewellery and other things. I don’t want people ripping Lketinga off. I hope he will be able to forgive me for everything I’ve had to do. If I came back to Kenya I would soon die.

Please explain everything to Mama. I love her and will never forget her. Unfortunately I can’t speak to her. Tell her I tried everything to live with Lketinga but his head was in another world. Please write back soon when you get this letter. I have a lot of problems myself and don’t know if I can stay in Switzerland. If not, I will move to Germany. For the next three months I shall be living with my mother.

 

Best wishes and love,

 

 Corinne.

 

 

Dear Father Giuliani,

 

Since October 6 1990 I have been back in Switzerland. I won’t be coming back to Kenya. I no longer have the strength to live with my husband. I wrote to him two weeks ago to tell him this and I’m now waiting for a reply. It will be a hard blow to him because I left him thinking I was only going to Switzerland on holiday. Otherwise he would never have allowed me to leave the country with Napirai.

As you know, we opened up a great shop on the south coast and did good business from the very first day. But relations between me and my husband did not improve. He was so jealous, even when I just talked to the tourists. In all those years he never trusted me. In Mombasa it was like living in prison. We spent the whole time arguing, which was no good for Napirai either.

My husband has a good heart, but there’s something wrong with his head. It’s hard for me to say that but I’m not the only one who thinks so. All our friends abandoned us, and even some of the tourists were scared of him. It wasn’t bad every day, but by the end it was almost every day. I have left him with everything: the shop, the car etc. He can sell it all and go back to Barsaloi as a rich man. I would be happy if he were to find a good wife and have lots of children.

I am enclosing a few Kenyan shillings with this letter, which you might give to my husband’s mother. I still have money in Barclay’s Bank, and perhaps you could see to it that this goes to Mama? I would be very grateful to you. Please let me know.

I have written this letter to you so that you will understand my side of the story if you hear what has happened from other people. You must believe I did my best and I hope God will forgive me.

 

Best wishes, 

 

Corinne and Napirai. 

 

 

Hi, Sophia!

 

I’ve just put the phone down after speaking to you and Lketinga. I’m really sad and can’t stop crying. I’ve just told you that I’m not coming back and it’s true. I knew that even before I got here. You know my husband a little. I loved him as I’ve never loved anyone in my life. I was prepared to live a proper Samburu life for him. I was ill so often in Barsaloi but I stayed there because I loved him. But a lot of things changed after Napirai was born. One day he alleged she wasn’t even his child. After that, my love for him was jaded. Our time together turned into an emotional roller coaster and he regularly treated me badly.

Sophia, I swear to you on the Bible that I never had another man, not once! But I had to live with accusations from morning to night. I gave my husband one last chance in Mombasa but I can’t go on living like that. He didn’t even notice he was doing it. I gave up everything for him, even my native country. Of course, I changed too but under the circumstances I think that’s not surprising. I feel really sorry for him and for myself. I still don’t know where I’m going to live now.

My biggest problem is Lketinga. He doesn’t have anybody for the shop and can’t run it himself. Please let me know if he intends to keep it. I would be happy if he could manage, but if not he should sell everything. The same goes for the car. Napirai is staying with me. I know she will be happier like that. Please, Sophia, look after Lketinga for a bit. He’s going to have so many problems, and I’m afraid I can’t help him much. If I came back to Kenya he would never let me return to Switzerland.

I hope his brother James will be coming down to Mombasa. I’ve written to him. Help him deal with the business. I know you have problems of your own and I hope for your sake that they sort themselves out. I wish you all the best and that you find another white girl friend. Napirai and I will never forget you.

 

All my very best, 

 

Corinne