Borderlines. Michela Wrong

going to have to talk to each person one-on-one, I’m afraid. We can’t do group interviews.’

      ‘No problem,’ said Sammy. ‘You will have all the privacy you need.’ He began issuing orders, and soon plastic chairs were being unstacked, a folding table erected. ‘I will go and check the catering arrangements. You will be staying for a meal, of course.’

      I exchanged looks with Abraham, who raised an eyebrow, refusing to rescue me.

      ‘Er …’ My mind raced. Brainwave. ‘I’m afraid I don’t eat meat.’

      ‘You don’t eat meat?’ Sammy looked incredulous. ‘That sounds very unhealthy. You will change your mind when you see how our women prepare it.’

      A few minutes later, I heard a piteous bleating and caught a glimpse, through the tent flap, of a hobbled white kid being led to its fate.

       10

      A few hours later Abraham and I took a break, exiting the tent to light each other’s cigarettes in the shade of a giant euphorbia cactus. We stood in silence, savouring a welcome moment of blankness after all the questions and answers, the names, dates, family trees and locations.