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great desire for him again. He looks magnificent in the glow of the paraffin lamp. His jewellery gleams, his chest is naked, adorned with just the two strings of pearls. The knowledge that under his loincloth there is nothing but flesh excites me.I grab his long, slim, cool hand and press it against my face. At this moment I feel bound to this man whom I know to be wholly alien to me, and I know that I love him. I pull him towards me and feel the weight of his body on mine. I press my head against the side of his and inhale the savage perfume of his long red hair. We stay like that for what seems an eternity, and I notice that he too is excited. The only thing between us is my thin summer dress, and I pull it off. He forces himself inside me, and this time, if only briefly, I feel a whole new sense of joy, even without reaching a climax. I feel myself at one with this man and now, this night, I know that despite all the barriers between us, I have already become a captive of his world.
    During the night I feel stomach cramps and grab hold of my torch, which I have luckily left near my head. Apart from the never-ceasing cicadas it is quiet outside, and everyone must hear the creaking of the opening door. I make my way to the ‘chicken toilet’, literally jumping the last step and reaching my destination only just in the nick of time. Because everything has to be done squatting, my knees are literally trembling. With the last of my strength I get back to my feet, grab my torch, clamber back down the chicken ladder and make my way back to the hut. Lketinga is still sleeping peacefully. I squeeze myself onto the cot between him and the wall.
    By the time I wake it is already eight a.m. and the sun is shining so strongly that even inside the hut there’s a sticky heat. After the usual ritual of tea and washing I decide I want to wash my hair too. But how am I going to do it with no running water? Our water comes in five-gallon canisters, which Priscilla fills up each day from the nearby well. I try to explain to Lketinga what I want to do and he’s immediately ready to help: ‘No problem. I help you!’ Using an empty tin he pours water over my head then laughing hilariously rubs the shampoo in for me and then professes amazement that with so much foam I’ve still got any hair left.
    Then we decide to go and see my brother and Jelly at the hotel again. When we arrive, they’re both sitting over a lavish breakfast. Looking at this magnificent spread I realize just how frugal my breakfast is these days. This time I decide to tell them a bit, and Lketinga sits there listening but not understanding. When I get to my night-time visit to the toilet and they both stare at me in horror, he goes: ‘What’s the problem?’ ‘No problem,’ I tell him with a smile. ‘Everything is okay!’
    We invite the pair of them to come and have lunch at Priscilla’s. I’d like to cook some spaghetti. They both agree, and Eric reckons he can find the way. We have two hours to find spaghetti, sauce, onions and herbs. Lketinga hasn’t a clue what sort of food I’m talking about but smiles and says, ‘Yes, yes, it’s okay.’
    We take a matatu to the nearest supermarket, where they do indeed have everything we need. By the time we get back to the village I don’t have much time left to prepare the ‘party meal’. I prepare everything sitting cross-legged on the ground. Priscilla and Lketinga watch the spaghetti boiling with amusement but say: ‘This is no food!’ My Masai stares into the boiling water, watching with amazement as the brittle strands of spaghetti slowly soften. This is a mystery to him, and he doubts that a meal will emerge from it. While the pasta simmers I use a knife to open the tin of tomato purée and pour it into a beaten-up saucepan. Lketinga looks on in horror and asks: ‘Is this blood?’ Now it’s my turn to laugh out loud: ‘Blood!? No, no, tomato sauce,’ I answer, giggling.
    Jelly and Eric arrive,