When Kanga was growing up in a small village in Central Africa in the sixties there was only one white man around. And this man, a Greek who owned a small trading business, fascinated Kanga no end.
Mr Antonopoulos' store was the only one for miles around. The buses used to stop right outside and passengers would alight to buy their groceries before continuing on their journey. Kids used to hang around outside the store to see who was coming and going as there wasn't much else to do.
But Kanga's interest went beyond that. When he started to bloom and turn into a young man he began to have certain feelings and fantasies. Mr Antonopoulos, or Mr Tony as everyone called him because they couldn't pronounce his name, occupied a large number of Kanga's secret fantasies.
Everything about Mr Tony was so different, from that great big jungle of black fur that showed in the valley of his open necked shirts, and the long swirls of black hair that grew on his forearms, to the thick moustache and his incredibly ruby red lips and dark blue eyes. Mr Tony lived with a local woman and Kanga was incredibly jealous of her. How he would love to be the one to peel off Mr Tony's clothes at the end of the day and behold his pale skin, where the sun had not burnt him, and his hairy body. There was something so animal like about Mr Tony; not only did he have all that hair but Kanga had noticed that there was very full package in the front of his trousers.
Kanga, now twenty, was one the best athletes in his village, well known for being fleet of foot and an agile wrestler. There was not an ounce of fat on his six foot tall body. His skin, the colour of dark chocolate, shone with good health and the oils he rubbed on himself. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, and his stomach so flat you could have ironed your shirts on it. His butt was round and tight and looked like it was cast from iron. All the girls in the village hoped that they would be the one to catch the attention of the handsome athlete, whose shy smile had broken a hundred hearts, but so far he did not seem to show much interest.
Mr Tony was friendly with everyone, Kanga knew that, but he liked to imagine that there was a special meaning when Mr Tony smiled at him. He often hung around the shop hoping to be noticed but was beginning to accept that there was not much chance of his dreams coming true.
And then one day Mr Tony asked Kanga if he would come with him in his truck to collect some goods from the city. Kanga just about burst out of his skin with excitement. He had never been to the city before and he was going there with Mr Tony! How proud and pleased he was that he had been selected to be given this honour. They left early in the morning and Kanga had been fascinated with the colours, sights and smells of the city. But by the time they had loaded up the truck and had a bite to eat Kanga had a headache and was glad to be heading back home.
It was a very hot day and once they were back in the countryside Mr Tony pulled off the road and went down a little track until they came to a fast flowing stream, shaded by some large trees.
'Come, we go swim.' Mr Tony said in his broken English.