Weather is turning cold.

“Hold it, hold it,” Obaseki said, “here come your people.” He gestured with his nose in the direction of a couple of flickering lights in the dense darkness.

“What is going on there,” I asked?

“That’s Joshua’s spot,” Obaseki said. “He just arrived. And he has company. Most probably Gina.”

I was drunk, anyway, so I asked for one more bottle of beer.

“We are out of ready-made snails,” our attendant explained. “We can make some for you by order. But I recommend you try our ram. There is no better ram in the world than ours.”