Our afternoon session in the office is very much a repeat of the morning one. We’re still in that mode where I’m trying to introduce a lot of information in a short time. I’m also trying to learn the names of some of the people I’m trying to teach. It’s never been my strong point, but I’ll get there before we’re done.

Our afternoon session ends with a lot more questions than the morning one did. That’s good, as it means that my recruits are probably getting used to me and hopefully coming to realize that I don’t bite. One of the girls is a new face, obviously the replacement for our morning no-show. She assures me that one of the other girls has already given her some notes and she will ask if she needs anything else. Sounds a little like they are already turning into a team.

With so much to do, it’s not really a surprise when our day is done. Two hours of lecturing and then almost an hour of questions and answers are surprisingly draining. I spend a short time back in the haven of my office, checking emails and messages before finally heading downstairs and into the garage.

There are more drivers in the tea-room than I have seen so far, but there are several other people leaving the building at this time and the rush at the end of the day is probably just beginning.

“How was your day, Will?” Joseph asks as he comes out to meet me and we begin to walk the short distance to the car.

“Good, but I’m ready for it to end. Is there anybody else with us?”

“No. Everything has been arranged to allow you to do your messages,” he tells me.

“That’s great. I need to get some shillings and also to go to a supermarket. I’ve no idea which one or where, so I am at your command.”

“There is a small mall just south of home,” Joseph assures me. “It should have everything that you need and there is an ATM. We are early enough that it will still be quiet if we go straight there.”

“Then let us go,” I agree, letting myself into the back seat of the car before Joseph has a chance to open a door for me. It feels like a tiny, but not insignificant victory for me. A win against an establishment that I don’t really understand.

Joseph is right. The streets are a little quieter than when I arrived this morning and vastly quieter than they appeared during lunch. We make it onto the highway in just a couple of minutes and are soon heading out towards the Mombasa road and home. Joseph drives a mile or more past our usual turn-off and then pulls into the car-park of a brightly-lit and modern building that is clearly our destination.

He beats me to opening the door and I’ve honestly no idea how he managed to get out of the driver’s seat so fast. This is turning into some sort of competition, but I’m glad that he is going to guide me on this first quest.

“What first?” I ask as we approach the main entrance of the mall. It’s not what I’d personally associate with the term ‘mall’, not that we even have such a thing at home on our small island. I do get the point though. It’s a small shopping centre spread over two floors with an anchor supermarket and several smaller shops, fast-food take-outs and the ubiquitous beauty parlours.

“The ATM,” Joseph tells me. He indicates that I should turn left and there’s the machine right in front of me. It’s in its own small room with very solid looking glass doors and two stoic guards standing outside. One of them has an automatic weapon over his shoulder and the other an intimidating looking cane, the sort with a metal ferrule and a bulbous cap at the other end, and a revolver in a holster at his hip.

“The machine will offer different languages when you put your card in,” Joseph tells me as we approach. One of the guards opens the door for me and Joseph stops outside to wait.

The sequence of events at the machine is somewhat different than I’m accustomed to, but no stranger than in other countries that I’ve visited. Having all the buttons labelled in English helps a lot, but some steps seem a little odd. Still, my usual debit card works just fine and I’m soon holding what feels like a small fortune but really isn’t.

I put the cash in my wallet and then place that back in my front pocket before stepping back out. I manage an “Assante” to the two guards and then have a chance to take in the rest of the building. It is, I’m sure, just like almost any small-scale shopping mall anywhere in the world. There’s a large and brightly-lit atrium with escalators and a glass-sided elevator.

I take note of the fact that there’s a shop that seems to sell only fruit, but we head across the open space and into the largest store, the very normal-looking supermarket.

“Will you need me to translate any of the labels?” Joseph asks helpfully.

“Probably. You don’t mind coming around the shop with me?”

“No, of course not, Will. I’m responsible for you outside the compound.”

“Well, let’s have a look around. I just want some staples. Rice, pasta, maybe potatoes. Then some tinned goods and herbs. A little meat or chicken.”

“That should be possible. Irish potatoes?”

I have to think about this for a moment before realization dawns. At home we make the distinction, but it is the other way around because ‘Irish’ potatoes are our normal ones. “Oh, yes. Although sweet potatoes are also good to have.”

Inevitably, while the brands are mostly different from those that I’m used to, the basics are all available. There are actually more familiar names than I expected, although I suppose that a few of them are universal. I remember to grab a good stock of bottled water and find a 2-litre bottle of the soft drink I had at lunch. I grab a similar bottle if Diet Coke as well, I’d prefer Pepsi, but they don’t seem to have it.

Joseph is far more helpful than I feel he needs to be, leading me and my trolley with speed and precision directly to whatever I need. As Anders had already suggested, my credit card works fine at the checkout and we are soon outside with four large bags filled to overflowing.

Across the mall, I can’t resist some bananas and mangoes. Someone had once told me that they were far better when they could ripen naturally and I’m pretty keen to find this out for myself. If this is going to be my local shopping centre, then I think I could do much worse. It does take me a minute to get my head around the fact that there are more than one sort of banana on offer, but I settle for some small ones that I’ve never encountered before.

It only takes us five minutes or so to make the quick drive back to the lodge. Joseph insists on helping me with the bags, characteristically reluctant to step over the threshold and into my apartment until I insist.

“Are you driving in the morning?” I ask as he turns to leave.

“Yes, but Martin will be driving in the afternoon,” he replies.

“Well, thank you for your help. Once I’m settled, I owe you supper to pay you back for your efforts.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Joseph tries to insist.

“No, you are helping me more than is needed for a job,” I insist in return. “I’ll not force you, but I do owe you for your kindness.”

“Good night, Will,” he says with finality as he closes the door of the apartment behind himself.