We're going to have to cancel plans

You were looking forward to his visit
From the time he eavesdropped on your conversation in the bus to the airport and he told you he wanted nothing more than to visit Kenya
And your heart clutched because you had wanted nothing more than to show him what he wanted nothing more of, you,
The tumbling hills and crevasses where the giants once lived
The green choke of hyacinth on the wide escapes of Lake Victoria
How you would wake up to the morning of a snow peaked mountain
And in the dizzying mist you would toast to your future
Maybe a drive through dry land whet with oil or rivers or a prowling lion
Maybe the dung smell of manure and raw milk from your father’s grazing Fresian cattle
The salty earth, the taste of Bogoria and Nakuru and the Indian Ocean
The pink flamingoes of your childhood
How he would stand by you when the president rolled into Safaricom stadium (because Safaricom owns Kenya) in his green land rover and his swordsman
How in the pelting rain you would enjoy the ecstasy of being one in Kenya and his first taste to the joy of belonging
Then he emails you “I’m sorry we’re going to have to cancel plans. Because of the recent incident in Nairobi, I’m no longer allowed to meet outside my hotel. The US government doesn’t advise me to be here longer than necessary.”
Longer than necessary. We’re going to have to cancel plans. He’s leaving you before he visits you
Before you show him what he had once wanted nothing more of, you.
Before he clings to you and the two of you meet your end in the inevitable explosion of light
The road carnage
The green muddy matatu ambling to Eastleigh to tailor your wedding dress...

We’re going to have to cancel plans.