They put him in the 131 and drove him home.97At about the same time, Alima was sitting in a large room at Fiumicino airport along with a hundred or so other Nigerians. She was sitting on a bench with her arms folded, trying to get some sleep.She had no idea when she would leave. No one bothers to inform illegal immigrants about the details of their repatriation. But it was certain that sooner or later she would be put on a plane.She would have liked a drink of hot milk. But there was a long queue at the drinks machine.She was going to return to her village and see her three children again, that was the meagre consolation.But what then?She preferred not to think about it.98Lucia Palmieri was in her bed. Safe and sound.Flora heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Mama, how are you?’That night she’d dreamed about the silver-haired koalas again. They were carrying her mother’s body on their backs along a completely deserted Aurelia. On either side were rocks, cactuses, coyotes and rattlesnakes.Flora had woken up certain that her mother was dead.
