Laikipia
‘Good morning, sir!’ The warrior strides up to me on the high plains and shakes my hand. ‘May I traverse your farm? I thought it impolite not to ask.’ I am astonished at his excellent English accent. This is a youth in full Samburu kit: red ochre paint, a snood from which pokes a long feather, bunting and Christmas tinsel, a toga, Man U stockings and thousand-miler tyre sandals.
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