It is beginning to get dark and big spots of rain are beginning to fall. I am trudging barefoot through  ankle deep sticky clay mud, following the feint outline of my colleague Fidel ahead. For a brief moment the sky is illuminated by a bolt of lightning and I can't help by smile.

We should have been back at base by now but the route was worse than expected and after 20 mins of skidding though the countryside in our 4x4 we finally had to leave it and go the last km on foot. I went gingerly at first trying to keep my feet and my shoes dry before building up and inch of clay on my shoes and deciding to join my colleagues and discarding footwear entirely, plunging my feet into the cool mud and enjoying the cool thick clay satisfyingly squelching beneath my feet and between my toes.

A quick visit to the clinic we thought, assess their water and sanitation needs, turn around and come back. Someone forgot to tell the local chief though. Many handshakes, lots of introductions in arabic, a lot of requests and a lot of other arabic conversation I could not even remotely follow. I won't say it was a waste of time, since we can only work there with his permission, but let's just say it would not be dark now and it would not be raining if we had not been delayed by 45 mins. I will also confess that in the back of my mind I know this is the only pair of trousers and the only shirt I have with me since most of my luggage did not fit in the plane.

So... I'm not entirely happy about the situation. But I can't help but smile! Isn't this part of the reason I decided to give up my desk job in London, isn't this the kind of adventure I wanted?