One of my favourite writers is the Danish story teller, Karen Blixen. She wrote under the pen name of Isak Dinesen (amongst other names), and I love her stories (like Seven Gothic Tales and Babette’s Feast). Her most famous novel is Out of Africa and the iconic line, “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills …” has echoed in my brain since first reading it and then hearing Meryl Streep annunciate those Danish-accented words in the movie of the same name. Blixen’s life fascinates me and when I was fortunate enough to visit her old home (now a museum) in Nairobi, Kenya I imagined all her joys and suffering as she tried to farm coffee and fell in love with both Africa and Denys Finch Hatton.
Blixen had a close relationship with Farah Aden, a Somali who served as her major-domo. Blixen entrusted Farah with her farm’s cash flow, and eventually with her complete trust. Farah shared her daily life, mediated her relations with the Africans, and relieved her of many practical burdens. The two grew exceedingly close, with Blixen herself describing their relationship as a “creative unity”. Farah was the person who met her in Mombasa when she arrived in Africa when her Vita Nuova (new life) truly began. When they went on safari, Farah would go ahead and light a fire which would serve as the guiding light to bring Karen and her entourage to base camp. When Karen lost everything – her marriage, her farm, and the love of her life (Denys Finch Hatton) she and Farah sold up her belongings in preparation for her return to Denmark.
In a scene from the book (and movie and her life in fact), Farah asks to come with her to Denmark and she tells him he cannot come, that this is a journey she has to make on her own. She tells him this time she is going ahead and that she will light the fire to guide him forward. “You must make this fire very big,” Farah says, “so I will be able to find you”. Whilst they wrote to each other for the rest of Blixen’s life, she never returned to Africa and they never saw each other again. Well not in this life anyway… .
If you have ever left a place or a person that you have loved deeply, do you ever wonder what part of you might be left in that place or with that person? Just as you are able to recall the essence of a place or person do you think a place or a person can recall an essence of you? I have found myself feeling very nostalgic about my old life in Africa and whilst I do not long to return to that life I do miss parts of what that life once was to me so I indulge myself in memories of this lost part of my history. How do you recall things from your past that matter to you? And what does that cause to happen for you?
If I know a song of Africa…
of the giraffe…
and the African new moon lying on her back…
of the ploughs in the fields…
and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers…
does Africa know a song of me?
Will the air over the plain quiver…
with a colour that I have had on?
Or will the children invent a game…
in which my name is?
Or the full moon throw a shadow…
over the gravel of the drive…
that was like me?
Or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?
