On the set I'm seated next to the actor Helmut Berger, waiting for my turn and trying to follow the conversation between Sonja Ziemann and her husband Charles Regnier, another pair of famous actors. But I can hardly concentrate; I'm so busy trying to guess what I'm going to be asked and how I should give the best and most pithy answers. It seems as if the two of them are going on talking forever.
At last there's the applause to signal that their turn is over and I hear my name being announced. My legs turn to lead and my heart starts pounding as I walk over to my seat. I've made up my mind to pay really good attention to the question before I answer, which is not something I always do. Herr Biolek and I start chatting and before long I'm aware of some good-humored laughing in the audience and also some applause. A few minutes of this and I'm really starting to feel at ease, but by then my turn is almost over. The audience claps and as Berger passes by on his way to the hot seat, he gives me a little clap and says: ‘Fascinating, you've stolen the show from me!’ At that moment I realise that I've done well on my first TV appearance and feel hugely relieved. When we go to eat together later, everyone has questions for me. One of the first questions is whether the book is going to come out in Italian. How on earth would I know?
When I get home my girlfriends all ring up to tell me how well I did. My boss even calls with a laugh to say he wonders how long I'll still be working for him. But I haven't the slightest interest in changing my job and keep on plugging away at my dentists.
One week after my TV appearance however the whole first edition print run has sold out. There are no more books to be had, but I'm coming down with requests for interviews. Everybody wants more photos of me and my daughter. To start with, Napirai isn't very keen about all this not least because she has nothing to say to anyone about Kenya or her father, as she was far too young to remember anything. But for the next few days our flat is swarming like a beehive.
In the morning I do my rounds of the dental practices and then in the afternoon I dash off to the hairdresser to be ready for the photographers. Every evening I clean the flat so everything will look nice when the next photographer or film crew turns up. Everything that's going on seems like a dream. I keep seeing my picture in German papers, sometimes on the front page, or next to famous people like Bill Clinton or some famous actor.
My long years working as a sales representative are paying off now because I don't worry about people touching me and I don't say anything too stupid. I'm asked to do several radio interviews and before long I'm doing my second TV appearance. Eventually the Swiss media home in on me too and stories appear in several newspapers and magazines with large circulations. But for nearly three weeks there isn't a single copy of The White Masai to be had in the bookshops, and loads of crazy people start ringing me up at home to try to find out where they can get hold of a copy. Then at last the second edition comes out with double the print run, and there's a third already in the works.
The official book launch is planned for September 16 in a wonderful garden center in Winterthur. I warn the bookseller to make sure there are lots of places because I'm sure loads of people are going to turn up. He laughs and says, ‘Look, this isn't my first book launch and you know it would be highly unusual if we filled more than a hundred seats for an unknown author and a relatively unknown publishing house.’ In the end however they're forced to go and fetch more and more chairs until the room's full to bursting point. I spot even my old schoolteacher amongst the audience.
The reading goes well. It only takes a couple of minutes for me to get into my element and not even notice my family sitting in the front row. It's up to me to organise the reading and so I pick out a few episodes and then talk a bit more about them afterwards. It's a tremendous experience and the atmosphere really gets to the audience and I find the whole thing positively infectious. Afterwards I have to answer lots of questions from the listeners. Some of them want to know how my daughter and I are getting on today. What's Lketinga doing? Has he gone back to his tribe? Do you regret this whole affair? Questions and yet more questions. And then for the next hour I'm signing copies of the book.
My publisher has come down from Munich especially for this event, so some of those who've turned up are lucky and can get a book fresh off the presses. Again and again people ask me where and when I'm doing my next reading. Lots of them say they have friends and relatives who'd like to come to a reading. It seems we simply can't keep up with our own success. The next few days fly by. Although I spend all my time either at work or organizing other things to do with the book I almost never feel tired: everything's so new and interesting. Before long I'm asked to do a reading for the people in our local area, in a function room at a nearby restaurant. As I make my way there, I can hardly believe the number of cars parked outside. When I get to the door there are people in a long queue waiting to get in. I can't believe they all just want to hear my story, to feel a part of it!
They have to close the doors to the room when there are a hundred and fifty people inside, which annoys some of those who've made the journey especially. I go out and tell those still waiting that I'll do another reading in the same place in two weeks time. There's no more I can do at the moment. This time I'm a lot more nervous than I was at the book launch, as it's sort of a ‘home game’. But before long I realise that a lot of the people in the audience have come from elsewhere as I don't see too many familiar faces.
The evening goes the same way as the one in Winterthur. After the reading I take questions from the audience. Suddenly one elderly man in a dark-green pullover and braces asks me how we got on together sexually. He says it in such a salacious way, despite the fact that his wife is sitting there beside him, that I have to think to myself for a moment before answering.
‘Look here, I'm not going to describe any specific sexual act here, but you can read it all in the book.’
He fires back cheekily: ‘This is a reading, isn't it, not a sales evening.’
That starts a bit of a commotion in the room and a strikingly good-looking blond woman gets up and puts him down: ‘It's the sort of event you don't belong at with your dirty little mind.’
There's a burst of applause and I give her a beaming smile.
Later that evening somebody else tries to attack me from another angle: ‘Aren't you ashamed for your daughter's sake to publish all this intimate detail under your own name.’
But before I can answer the same lively blond woman is saying: ‘This woman has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in this book and her daughter will be proud of her mother. I've read the book three times already and I recommend you do the same.’
I'm moved to be defended like this by someone I don't know. A little later when I'm signing copies, all of a sudden she's standing there before me with a beautiful big bunch of flowers. I'm more than astounded and say thanks and ask her if she'd like to come back for a nightcap with a little group of friends I've invited. She's delighted to accept.
After the room has cleared we all go back to my place. Andrea and her mother have made some tasty little snacks and we all get chatting, and I have time for a proper conversation with Irene, the woman from the audience. The last few leave after midnight and finally I can get to bed, tired but happy. It's back to visiting the dentists the next day. I keep getting recognized at the — practices I visit now because one or other of the assistants has seen me on TV or read one of the stories about me in the press. That's no disadvantage, I soon realise.