Fri 2 Apr
Early on Friday morning I make my way back to the bus station and get the weekly eastbound bus, literally along the bottom edge of the Sahara desert. Occasionally the tarmac road is covered with sand from drifting dunes and we have to get off and walk

I stay overnight in a town called Diffa. It seems there’s not much to do. I get something to eat easily enough but getting a beer is definitely a specialist subject. The festival that was occupying Zinder is opening here tonight too. I go along to the gates of open-air cinema and push my way to the front of the crowds hoping to find out the starting time. I get pulled inside by the officials and told I am their guest. The cinema is used as a theatre with an entertaining drama group presenting a satire on corrupt politicians and gender stereotyping. The local youth are enjoying an excuse for a night out, practicing how not to behave in public places. They don’t seem to appreciate the performance or the efforts to which the French Cultural Centre have gone to bring it to their little town.