To write this story I find myself forced to wear my Kykuyu name: Gichuhi.
It was entrusted to me four years ago in Nairobi and today seems the right occasion to dust it off.
Gichuhi is a wealthy man and so from Nairobi he took a holiday in Europe, accompanied by his family. 
Thanks to his generosity, we can now share his travel diary. 
To go to Europe has always been one of the most vivid dreams of my existence: to reconnect with the land of our settlers, to touch that asphalt-covered soil that gave rise to the civilisation that changed the fate of my country and my continent is a desire that I have always carried with me, albeit with the fear of then feeling that Mal d'Europe that everyone talks about. 

Obtaining the visa was complicated but I understand: when a place is so special, it should remain for a few. Nor was it complicated because of some technical error, a refused credit card or a confirmation email not received, as is the case for tourists about to visit Kenya. It was difficult to produce all the required documentation. 
Between compulsory insurance but only from certain companies, invitation letter, surety bond and bank statement, at one point I almost thought I was getting the application form wrong. After all, mine was just a tourist trip of a few weeks! Fortunately, however, all these headaches passed when the plane touched down on that European land as magical as it is ancestral, which just by smelling it you realise that there is a deep connection between it and humanity.

The first thing that struck us when we arrived in Europe was undoubtedly the looks on the children's faces. 
We will never forget them: they know how to be sad despite having everything. We admired them so much, always with their lips turned down, with that expression of whimsy ready to explode in their eyes despite having huge houses full of toys. We did a lot of thinking with our family and we believe that is exactly why these people are better off than us. 
They are never satisfied and therefore always strive for more. 
What a great inspiration! My wife and my daughters couldn't resist and filled their phones with pictures of all those melancholic children, on the other hand it is well known that all European children are beautiful, not like ours who are always with those thirty-two-toothed smiles, too bad they are missing twenty-four. Of course they also got a few insults and handbags from the mothers and grandmothers of those children. We immediately apologised and yet it seemed so strange: when we were in Malindi on holiday we saw so many Europeans taking pictures of our battered children! They must have been nervous, or in a hurry!

Ah the hurry, that was another wonderful discovery of this trip. Everyone in Europe is in a hurry, running like mad, and there is not a single lazy person. Everyone and I mean everyone is always busy with work. 
They know how to enjoy life without boredom. And we have so much to learn from them. 
Not to mention the wisdom of the elderly. You find them with their arms folded behind their backs watching the construction sites, probably invoking the spirits of the ancients to protect their amazing constructions. Or you see them dragging these trolleys with two big wheels full of herbs and leaves. 
My youngest son made a joke saying it was groceries from the supermarket but our guide explained that those are medicinal herbs that only the elders of the community know. We also suffered a lot, we must be honest. We went to the north, to remote areas that very few Africans have the opportunity to visit. It was possible because our guide was different from the others and promised to show us the real Europe, the one off the tourist track. 

We travelled along a road that became narrower and narrower and climbed up to some very high mountains. At one point we stopped and caught a glimpse behind some cone-shaped trees of small stone houses. It was only when we got out of our van that we felt the bitter cold of that village. A cold that penetrates you inside, other than the coolness of Nairobi in July that already seems intolerable to us! And there, feeling this frost freezing our muscles, we realised that human beings like us live in that village. We saw them, their cheeks red, their skin white as ugali, the drops of mucus under their noses, and we were speechless. We wondered how there could be so much injustice in the world but there was nothing we could do, except leave a few beaded bracelets and some mabuyu candies that my wife found at the bottom of her bag. We will never forget the mistrust but also the amazement in those eyes used to seeing only the white of snow when they looked at the colours of our bracelets! For some we think it was the first time they had ever seen a black person and so many looked at us and said black, black, black! Some even added a G in the middle! How exciting, we are so happy to have brought them some joy in the midst of that excruciating cold. From the North we moved to the sea and there we noticed to our amazement that all the white people can swim. Maybe it is because they have small, light bones and can therefore float, but we were amazed that they were all swimming. You should have seen the fun they had in the water! 

Our trip was already coming to an end, and being a family trip you will understand that none of my daughters were able to meet a European boy, as they call them there, the city-boys. I would have liked them to spend some time with them: they say that despite their plastered and intellectual appearance, they have understood the secret of life, and besides this fact, it is common knowledge that the sizes down there are so small that women are comfortable! A little less pleasure perhaps but very little effort: how lucky they are! Now we are on the plane back to Kenya but we are all silent and feel empty. A tear fell when the plane took off from the runway and we are sure that these are the first symptoms of European Sickness. Will we get better? I don't know, but this is one of those trips that changes your life and we back home will treasure everything Europe has taught us!
Coming back to me, to the real me with the Italian or Kykuyu name, I reiterate my relentless and gentle fight against stereotypes.

--- Michele Senici, 1993. Educator, teacher, project coordinator. I opened Casa Hera in Diani because I did not know where to continue my life. Have I realised this now? Certainly not, but that's OK, at least I observe, I think, I write.