The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Kenya

The group’s money would soon run out, and Gustav Svensson’s arrival meant yet another mouth to feed. Sabine had known since her days as a businesswoman in Sweden that she could do calculations. First she’d had to learn about deficit, then credit, after the coffin sales had taken off, and now they were back to deficits.

And it seemed that no profitable clairvoyance plans were going to turn up. She almost had the urge to try an LSD trip to get unstuck, but the drug market was non-existent in Maasai Mara. She wouldn’t have taken that step anyway. If her mother, in that state, had hunted for ghosts in front of trains, there was a good risk she would do the same in front of the lions.

Now it wasn’t only Julius and Fredrika sitting in the lounge and talking asparagus: Gustav Svensson had joined them. Although talking asparagus was an understatement. They were worshipping asparagus.

The mutual understanding seemed to be that the climate at two thousand metres above sea level at the equator was perfect! Green, it would be. Or white. Or both, depending on whom you were listening to.

But also, everything was beyond tragic because the soil was all wrong. And had been for a long time. Remains left by humans from two million years ago had been found in the adjacent valley. In the same hard red soil that the asparagus lovers were now cursing.

‘Then buy new soil,’ Allan said, from nearby on the veranda, with his nose in his tablet. ‘Then again, don’t, because I just did it for you.’

What had Sabine and the asparagus lovers just heard?

‘You bought soil? For here? With what money?’ Sabine said.

‘You bought soil? For here? What kind?’ said Julius.

‘What kind?’ said Gustav.

‘What kind?’ said Fredrika Langer.

Allan had been surfing around, got tired of all the moaning and groaning, and decided to do something about it. There was plenty of sandy soil in Nairobi, and with a few clicks it had been ordered. Four hundred tons, to start. That ought to go pretty far, right?

‘Let me ask you again. With what money did you just buy four hundred tons of soil?’ said Sabine.

‘None at all,’ said Allan. ‘Things aren’t so advanced here in Africa. They’ll send an invoice.’

‘And who were you thinking would pay for it?’

‘Oh, that’s what you meant. Don’t we have some money left from the coffin business?’

‘No.’

‘Then I will ask you to let me think about it.’

Sabine’s financial objections were drowned by the topic at hand. Fredrika Langer had grown most eager of all. ‘Hell’s bells!’ she said. ‘Four hundred tons would be enough for almost the entire field beyond the organic garden. We’ll have to make sure to keep watch at night, so the baboons don’t ruin our fun.’

Gustav Svensson’s entire face lit up. ‘Four hundred tons!’ he said, without truly comprehending how much this actually was.

Meanwhile, Julius had already entered the next phase. ‘Let’s see, how can we best guide the trucks? The slope begins almost immediately on the other side of the garden, so maybe it’ll be best to squeeze them between the souvenir shop and the office. What do you all think?’

No one but Sabine considered the fact that there were not sufficient assets in place to pay for the soil. Nor did anyone manage to recall that they didn’t live where they were staying, and that at least one of them, Fredrika, had another life, far away.

‘What kind of mess have you made this time?’ Sabine said, once she had left the enthusiastic group and strolled over to the old man on the veranda.

‘Mess?’ said Allan. ‘They’re happy as Larry.’

‘But we don’t have any money.’

‘We haven’t had it before. Relax, Sabine! We only live once. That’s the only certainty in life. How long, though – that varies.’