‘Yes,’ the lady nods. ‘Through here, please.’ She directs them to an office with a pin board covered in thank you cards, newspaper clippings and faded pictures of mostly white people in hospital scrubs. In the middle of the board is a large print-out which says, ‘Imagine if you are heard each time you speak. Now live accordingly.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Kiama says. He picks a small easel up from the desk and reads, ‘Imagine if you are watched each time you dance. Now live accordingly.’ He laughs. ‘This is surely not her office?’

There’s a poster sellotaped to the wall, a basket of fruit in the centre, surrounded by swirly writing. ‘Imagine if God was to taste—’

The door opens and they fall silent.

‘Hello, guests. Karibu, karibu. I apologise for taking so long, I had an incident to deal with.’ He introduces himself as ‘Makimei, the CEO of Kindred Kenya’. He gestures towards the pin board, ‘Have you seen?’ he smiles, ‘All the success stories from our work. Last year we placed many international volunteers at hospitals, schools and orphanages across the country.’

The head-wrap lady comes in and lays a tray of drinks and snacks in front of them.

Kiama gasps at the plate of deep-friend dough triangles, ‘Mandazi.’ He knew he recognised that thick, sweet smell. Purity never prepared them as Cynthia said they made the house smell for days after, but she’d often buy him a bag from a street vendor.

Yvonne slips out her anti-bac gel but Kiama goes straight in.

‘Stop. Eating. That.’ Yvonne mouths while Makimei speaks with the lady.

‘I got a stomach of steel,’ Kiama whispers before taking another bite.

The lady leaves and Makimei says, ‘So, how can I help you? You want to volunteer? Perhaps, at one of our health clinics? Or the new clinic for the handicapped?’ He sits in his chair and makes a full turn in it. ‘We also have two orphanages under our umbrella, with over forty children.’

‘We called earlier about Purity,’ Kiama says.

‘Oh? I misunderstood. Explain to me, please?’ He leans his head back and closes his eyes.

‘Purity worked for my grandparents. She helped raise my mum, who grew up in Kenya. Then when I was younger, we moved back and she looked after me as well. She’s always been part of my family. We know she works for you now. And we’re trying to find her.’

‘Ahem, ahem,’ Makimei says nodding.

‘So where is she?’ Kiama asks.

‘I will show you something.’ Makimei unlocks one of his desk drawers and removes a large laptop. ‘Please, Miss, do eat the last one.’

Yvonne picks up the last mandazi and forces a smile.

Makimei leans close to his screen and squints while Kiama takes it from her hand and eats it in two large bites.