Early morning, Laisamis, the desert ahead.
The man from the grocery kiosk pours the Super fuel from the disinfectant bottle into the funnel, through the old water bottle then into the tin can strapped to the side of the bike. Five litres to top-up the tank, and five extra litres in the jerry can.
'You have full fuel, but I think it is not enough to reach Lake Turkana through the desert. It is a long way. But you have decided, so you must go and find for yourself even though there is no fuel on the way. The desert Samburu do not drive, so why would they have fuel?'
When the transaction is over - and my doubts about the day's journey begin to grow - I swing a leg over the bike as he pats the tank.
'I wish you safe journey. You will meet the Samburu warriors, but do not stop for them. They are armed with spears, some with guns. Keep moving and you should be okay.'
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