A binge on alcohol and meat, plus hired sex and lodging — all for £1.50

 Kenya

Home is beyond the perimeter of modern Kenya and way off the grid. When the ancient generator goes off in the evening we are left with a sky of untarnished constellations reflecting down on the star-spotted nightjars. Until morning we burn hurricane lamps of the Dietz ‘old reliable’ type. These run on kerosene. When we ran out of this I asked one of the young shepherds called Captain to cycle to the nearest village, which is about 15 kilometres away, on an urgent mission to buy more. ‘Please buy ten litres of paraffin,’ I said. I gave him 1,000 bob, about £7, and asked him to bring change and a receipt. He set off in the morning and I expected him back around nightfall — because the rule here is that, however early a trip begins, a man will never return before evening, armed with an elaborate story to explain his delay. Captain did not return. For days we went without lamplight and we stumbled about with candles and torches. On the third day I sent a second shepherd called Ekwom to look for Captain. The next morning both shepherds appeared with a can of paraffin but no change or receipt. Captain enthusiastically delivered his story. As he was cycling home after buying the fuel, bandits had ambushed him and stolen the cash — the equivalent of about £1.50 — plus the receipts. Given that I had heard a similar excuse about month before, I suspected Captain was fibbing. I worked on Ekwom, who finally grassed on his mate. These shepherds are tough men. They would rather be with their cattle among the burning wastes and black ash volcanoes of the far north where they are born, but their families have lost their herds in livestock raids and times of drought. Only the indignity of hunger had forced Ekwom and Captain to become ranch hands.