The Chinese visitors, whose sole contact person is me, even though one can hardly call me that, because we can’t exchange a single word, but all the Kenyans talk to me when they want to talk to them, and the Chinese visitors talk to me when they want to talk to anybody, and I don’t understand anything, and when I pantomime ‚Would you also like something to drink?‘ – ‚The bus is back there!‘ – ‚The toilet is on the other side!‘ – ‚The program is still going on!‘ – they look at me with desperation in their eyes, and I can’t do anything. Our tin can of a bus is jammed. The only place in the shadow is the one we’re already at.