A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 21

 Fedha - the money

We are on our way again. The money arrived, people ran like crazy to the bank, wanted to withdraw the money, but the bank prevented that. Wasn't bad!

They want to force him to worship their gods, and as he refuses, they pluck him by his beard and his hair and yank him until he kneels, and it's very funny. He does not recognise their visible gods, and the others do not recognise his invisible gods. But just in case, they take away the little money he has saved up for the altars of their gods, and they beat three of his seven children to death.

That's just by the way. Money makes the world go round. Round is maybe not correct, mad is maybe better. 

We, the monster and I, we are already expected, impatiently, fearfully perhaps, that we, or rather I, will not come. The man with the money! At the moment everything is at my feet. I can't believe what money can do. It works. Money always works. Kindness prevails. Of course, with my signature there is money! Why shouldn't people be friendly? 

In the surveyor's office we sign. Copies are made. I get one to look at. Well, immediately I notice that this document from Ministry Of Land, is not stamped. I have to point this out to him. He apologises, stamps all the papers. 

The way to the bank is now clear. With the signed contract they get the money. They can hardly be restrained. Their first way to the bank! Where else? 

We're going back. 

I have time to think. 

What am I going to do with my life?

... I knew what I was spending it on,

Considered what my faith weighs,

And if I end it on the judgment block,

I was victorious in the end!

(Richard Zach, Austrian poet, executed in January 1943)

From a poem smuggled out of prison). 

Somehow I feel as if I were on the slaughter bench. It's just happened too quickly. We haven't known each other that long and now I've bought a building plot! Somehow too fast! Way too fast. I feel run over. 

We're going for another beer, it's got to be now! My throat needs to be flushed. Something is scratching in my throat. 

As always, my thin thoughts dispel the monster. She's got it, I'll give her that. 

We're still talking about the house, how it's going to be, what we have to consider. 

"Call Fundi, I need to talk to him!" 

Everything is still open. Nothing is decided.