Obviously I need to work on my appearance. I urgently need a new haircut and ought to buy a couple of suits. But that's what second-hand shops are for. I may also need to buy a car although here in Switzerland that's not the problem it is in Kenya. There are second-hand car dealers on every corner and an affordable car should be easy to find.
The biggest problem I face is my own lack of self-confidence. I still think I'm very brave going up to new people and trying to get them to like me. Just the idea of going out in the city traffic and trying to find streets I don't know horrifies me. But I could do it before so I must be able to do it again. At least now everything seems more manageable than it did four months ago. When I think that back in Kenya there were moments when I was so weak I could hardly even stand and fifty meters seemed an unimaginable distance to walk, I feel, in relative terms, a tower of strength. I'll manage it all, I know I will.
A couple of days later I finally get my written residency permit. The other thing I have to do now is sort out the question of my marriage. They tell me that here in Switzerland it has no legal status. As I'm a German citizen the issue will have to be resolved in Berlin and the Swiss will then abide by the German decision. It seems it's not clear whether I count as legally married or single in Europe. Right now, however, I'm not too bothered about it. It's only a year later that I'm to find out the consequences. Right now it's enough for me just to be happy.
I've put my ‘job wanted’ ad in the paper hoping to get an offer of something in sales. I'm also studying the flats-to-let adverts but my enthusiasm is soon dampened by the lack of choice. Obviously I don't have to move out of my mother's straight away but sooner or later, especially when I have a job, I want to have a place to call my own.
Two weeks after our first meeting at the single mother's group Madeleine calls and invites me and Napirai to come over for coffee. She lives only a few minutes’ drive away in the next village beyond Wetzikon. I like where she lives at first sight: four flat blocks together arranged in a square with a large green area and children's playground in the middle where a few toddlers are running around. Napirai would like that! I'm also taken by the forest nearby and a little stream.
Madeleine is pleased to see us. Her son is ten years old and has the patience of an angel in dealing with Napirai. We tell each other our life stories in detail and she's pleased to. hear we've got our Swiss residency permits. I tell her I'm fairly confident of finding a job soon but getting a flat looks harder as I'd really like to find something like she has. Madeleine offers to ask the housing association but says I shouldn't get my hopes up because there are waiting lists for well-priced, well-located flats like these. But I like the place so much I'm going to keep hoping.
I show her pictures of my husband and our shop in Kenya and ask her to look him up when she's there on holiday to give him a letter from me. It would also be nice if she could find out what's up with Sophia. It seems like an extraordinary coincidence that on my first excursion out to meet people I should have come across someone who's flying out to Kenya soon. There's a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth as I wish her happy holidays.
Back home I rave to my mother about the area where she lives. I'm determined not to look anywhere else as long as the local housing association doesn't say there's no hope.
Over the next few days I get a few job offers in the post. Most are useless: either I don't like the product they want me to sell or the firms concerned don't offer even a minimum salary, and in my situation I can't afford to take a risk like that. When I'm just about giving up hope of getting any joy from my advert, an interesting job offer comes in from Zurich. They sell silk scarves and ties to companies, which they in turn hand out as promotional gifts. I take a look at their catalogues and feel this might be a decent opportunity. Immediately I ring them up and arrange to go for an interview.
Now it's up to me. Getting my first job after living abroad for so long will be difficult. I buy a map of Zurich and a nice suit. Being so tall and thin at least gives me the advantage that most off-the-peg clothes look good on me. I go to the hairdresser's and for the first time in my life have my hair cut short, and dyed red. A new pair of shoes with heels, not too high, adds the finishing touch. The transformation is such that at first my mother doesn't recognize me and even Napirai stares at me uncertainly for a few minutes. It's only my voice that she recognizes initially, but when I lift her and put her to my breast she's reassured that this really is her mother.
I want to be as relaxed as possible for the interview so I decide to take the train to Zurich rather than go by car. But I fall at the very first hurdle at the station. I need to buy a ticket at the counter but there's a huge queue of people and not much time before the train goes. I push through to ask the man at the counter if I can buy a ticket to Zurich on the train. He gives me a dismissive look and says, ‘No, not on this train. You can buy a ticket from the machine on the platform.’
There's just two minutes before the train arrives. I rush to the right platform and find the machine but all I can make out is a confusing array of arrows and numbers. I'm standing there like a Stone Age man without the faintest idea how to buy a ticket. A young lad rather condescendingly explains it to me, making me want to sink through the floor. My four years in the bush have turned me into a real bumpkin.
Finding my way around Zurich is my next challenge. Eventually by asking people I manage to find the right address but by now my nice new suit is drenched in sweat. Luckily I've got ten minutes to pull myself together.
The showroom has a display of their scarves in all sorts of magnificent colors. A woman of about fifty greets me and after I've explained who I am she calls her husband who's in charge of recruitment. He's a small, elderly but vivacious man and straight away starts showing me their different fabrics and grades. I'm not at all sure what to make of this pair but their merchandise is good and would be easy to sell. I see that at once. The man invites me into his office and we sit down for a chat. He's not very impressed when he hears I've just returned from living abroad as it means I don't have any references.
I make a point of telling him that I ran a souvenir shop in Mombasa. When he asks if I'm married I say no, as in any case it still seems uncertain what my legal status here is. He says that's a good thing because often husbands get jealous if they have wives who're out and about selling things all day. He doesn't ask about children so I don't mention my daughter. Finally we talk money. Incredibly he agrees easily to the terms I suggest, but tells me he has someone else interested in the job whom he has to interview and that I should think it over too. I tell him I don't have any notice to work and would like to start as soon as possible. He gives a laugh and says, ‘I'll call you in a couple of days time.’
Even though I don't know whether or not I'll get the job, on the way back to the station I'm already trying to work out how I'd go about it as they don't have any firm clients at present and the whole business needs building up from nothing. Up until now they've just been acting as wholesalers, selling on to clothes shops. I would have to persuade clients in industry to take on their expensive designer goods to hand out as promotional gifts. I'm really keen on the job though because instead of selling dull insurance packages I'd be pushing really attractive products. My journey home goes smoothly and I smile inwardly to myself: ‘You see, Corinne, every working day will make life back here easier and more familiar.’
As soon as I get in, Napirai charges at me pulling up my pullover to get at my breast. Oh how I love my little girl with her crinkly brown hair and black cherry eyes. It's going to be a real change when we're no longer together all day every day. But I know she's fine with my mother who loves her as if she were her own daughter.