It hadn’t gone unnoticed that many of the [armed] bank guards that I walked past had taken an interest in me. I put this down to simply being a mzungo. Turns out there’s another altogether more funny and frightening reason.

According to one petrified shopkeeper, the silver water bottle that I have been swinging on my left forefinger as I waltz down the street looks like a bomb. I would usually carry it a daypack on my back, but in certain cities our guidebooks and local informers discourage bag-carrying to reduce the likelihood of mugging.

I can’t help thinking that nobody has touched me because they’re scared that I might pull the pin!

(Mum: Don’t worry, from now on it’s in a carrier bag, and I’m trying not to look suspicious when sipping.)