Chapter 288: Heading West
Angola, Matala.
West of Matala is the Kingdom of Luenda. Because that kingdom spanned both banks of the Kwango River, East Africa only took the land on the eastern side and did not wipe out Luenda entirely. The kingdom's main population base was on the west bank, so when they faced the East African army, most of them simply crossed to the west. Luenda thus suffered minimal losses this time.
Even farther west in Matala, you find one of the Portuguese colonial outposts extending deepest into Angola. The area has no particular mineral resources; its value lies in broad plains and abundant rainfall. The Portuguese set up large plantations there, chiefly for palm trees and coffee.
…
Nairobi.
The word "Nairobi" means "cool waters." It is a modern garden-style city with lush greenery and vibrant blossoms, famed for its clean, peaceful air and regarded as a tourist haven for escaping the heat. Its pleasant climate was one reason Ernst chose Nairobi to host the textile factories. Before the era of air conditioning, Nairobi's mild weather offered workers a better environment.
People often say its climate is like "eternal spring," quite cool for the tropics. Even compared to European or Far Eastern summers, Nairobi stays cooler year-round.
"Welcome to Nairobi! It may not be as bustling as Venice, but it's hardly a backwater. By our standards, it's growing at tremendous speed. This city is only two years old; I hope you'll all pitch in as new residents, helping build it up. The better we develop Nairobi, the more comfortable your life and work will be." So spoke José, mayor of Nairobi, addressing the first batch of Venetian immigrants.
These Venetians were looking around, sizing up what was to become their new home.
"The city is quite tidy, true, though not as dazzling as Venice. It lacks that artistic vibe, and it's so small—more like a rural town outside Venice. Also, the air feels a bit dry.""Still better than I feared. I expected the East African government might dump us in the middle of nowhere. At least there's infrastructure here. The environment seems nice. I never liked Venice's humidity. East Africa's climate is comfortable. Mombasa felt hot, but here it's fine—and Europe says Africa is always boiling, which clearly isn't true of Nairobi.""Yes, it's not what we pictured. In fact, conditions here might be better than Egypt. Egypt's just sand, yet they've got so many people. This place is definitely more livable.""See those Black laborers? Are they East African slaves?""Probably. In Africa, you expect that—especially since the place is crawling with Africans. I did spot a few Blacks in Mombasa, but there are even more here."
In fact, Nairobi's large Black workforce was assigned to build housing for these new Venetian arrivals. The first phase of 3,000 dwellings was now done.
"I'm actually more curious about these yellow-skinned people. They look like they live pretty well here. Wonder if they're easy to get along with?"
So the newcomers from Venice and the existing Nairobi residents were busy staring at each other. Since Nairobi's founding, it had never before seen so many new immigrants arrive at once.
Meanwhile, all that was new and fascinating to the Venetian migrants.
At this point, Mayor José continued:
"Since you've just arrived, for the first month your food will be provided by our canteen free of charge. After that, you'll be using your wages to pay for living expenses. If you work diligently in the factory, surviving in East Africa isn't hard. Some industrial items do cost more than in Europe, but food is very cheap. Any questions?"
"Mr. Mayor, where do we stay tonight?"
José pointed north. "See where those Black workers are busy building? The newly completed housing in that western section is for you."
"What about drinking water and cooking?"
"You can fetch water from nearby wells. Washing clothes means going to the river. For cooking, you can build your own stovetop or oven, or just eat at the canteen. But remember, only your first month is free. Afterward, you must pay."
"How many hours a day do we work?"
"Ten, with additional overtime pay. Six days a week."
"Sir, where can we go to worship?"
"You'll have to do that at home. There's no church yet. If you want to build one, the city won't object, but you'll have to put in the labor and resources," José replied.
"Oh dear, no church? That's terrible."
"Don't complain," José retorted. "Plenty of earlier immigrants have done fine without a church. And truly devout people can pray at home. If you think a church automatically grants you God's protection, remember that Europe is full of churches, yet look at it now—at war. Wasn't that war the reason you came here?"
José was a Protestant who had grown philosophical after living amid so many non-Christian immigrants from Asia.
"All right, that's enough. Now, please have your registration documents from Mombasa ready. We'll assign you housing based on that data. When your name is called, bring your baggage and follow the staff," José concluded.
Soon, East Nairobi's new district became packed with people. They had few belongings but many family members.
"No pushing! Learn to queue! Any more of this shoving, and you can't say I didn't warn you. Police, keep order." José addressed the crowd. "Line up, staff will do the paperwork."
"Let me see your file."
"Mr. Abbot, your family has four members—your wife plus a son and daughter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right. Here are four houses you might choose: 1, 3, 5, 8. Same design, just different spots."
"Hmm, I'll take 3."
"Good. Householder Abbot, wife Jennie, son Andrew, daughter Angelina. That's District Seven, House #203," the staff member recorded. "This slip is your door number. Just wait for the staff to guide your family to your new place."
"Next!"
They repeated the process until they had four families sorted.
"You four families, come with me," an East African policeman said.
He led them down the road for who knew how long before reaching a quiet street.
"See this sign? That '7' means Seventh Street, and you're in District Seven. The first house on the left is for Mr. Mavist's family, the third is for Mr. Andrei's, the fifth is for Mr. Abbot's, and the eighth for Mr. Rep's. Now hand me your slips."
Taking their slips, the policeman pulled out some glue and, at each doorway's right-side frame (which had a blank square), pasted the slip. This formed a makeshift doorplate showing basic info for each immigrant household.
"All right, you may move in."
Abbot asked, "Officer, why aren't these houses adjacent? Why leave space between us?"
The policeman replied, "Because other immigrants haven't arrived yet. Eventually the space between you will be filled."
In fact, houses #2, #4, and #7 were reserved for Far Eastern immigrants, and #6 for newcomers from German lands, carefully interspersed to avoid any one nationality grouping up.
"Go all the way down this street, and you'll see the District Seven police station. If you run into trouble, come find me. There's also a government bulletin board posting East Africa's policies and announcements. Water is on Fourth and Fifth Streets—they each have a well. For laundry, use the river north of town. The public canteen is at the street's end, the biggest building you'll see. Restrooms are behind your block; it's illegal here to relieve yourself anywhere else, and all wastewater must go into the drainage channel behind the latrines…"
Get 30% off on my Patreon and enjoy early access to new chapters.
You can also purchase the next 100 chapters of the novel directly from my Patreon page.
Hurry up! The promotion ends on January 2, 2026.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10