I'm staying here.
I have been in Kenya for so long that they call me "veteran", precisely because, undaunted and immovable, I am staying here.
Yes, some people say that not travelling is like continuing to read the same page of a book, but I love to read slowly, to understand the meaning of words and I'm staying here.
I see that many people leave to go back somewhere but not me, I'm staying here.
I would have had opportunities to fly away like the wind and I confess that a part of me had thought about it, but what can I do?
I've put down roots here. No, no: I'm staying here.
It was precisely that wind that brought me a thousand exotic scents that came from afar, arousing my curiosity, who knows what lies beyond that distant African horizon painted orange at sunset... no, I'm not sure I want to know, I prefer to enjoy the show and continue to repeat endlessly: "I'm staying here".
I saw a lot of masked people who couldn't wait to get on the bus to Mombasa airport, some of them even came to greet me and hug me saying: "I love you so much that I would take you away with me".
Moved, I said, "Thank you, but I'm... I'm staying here."
But I fantasized about the idea of transplanting myself in the Po Valley, in the Tuscan Hills or even in the hinterland of Sicily or Sardinia, where I probably would have felt more comfortable but, on second thought, I have too many things to do and I'm staying here.
I have seen the alternation of rain and drought so many times that I get so tired of it, that I want to experience other shores but ... what can I say, I'm staying here.
It has to be said that everyone here in Malindi esteems and respects me.
Those who pass by me, whatever color or religion they are, smile and greet me, whispering Shikamoo, and that's one of the reasons why I'm staying here.
On the other hand, an old Baobab like me, in an Airbus 320, wouldn't even get in.
I'm staying here, which is better.