Pap and an appalling watery stew for dinner last night, if one could call it dinner. And nothing to wash it down except warm water or instant coffee with powdered milk. Even a bad red wine would have been better. And if dinner was awful, yesterday’s stale sandwiches for breakfast this morning were even worse. Even the diabolical instant coffee tasted good in comparison. And the final disappointment was that no one had brought anything for lunch. “Lerako, I need some decent food! Lots of it, and quickly!” “Can’t take roughing it in the bush?” Lerako grinned. “You wouldn’t last long out here. I suppose that’s why you have a cushy job in Gaborone. Big desk, paved roads and lots of restaurants.” “You’re right. This would be hell on earth for me. So where’s the nearest restaurant?” “It’s where we’re going to stay – the guest house in Hukuntsi. It’s about fifteen kilometres away. Nowhere else worth eating at around here. I’ll take you there. We can clean up and then have dinner.
