The sun sets quickly, I slather up with the anti-bite. It is very humid, hot and heavy in the gathering dusk. Back on board hundreds of frantic small white flies attack the lights.

‘Not mosquitoes Mem, rice flies. Come, come eat, eat.’

He shows me a place in the dining cabin which has been shuttered and doors closed tight. Inside it is very warm, all lights are off except for 2 thin spluttering candles on the table –‘to keep flies away.’ It is like a sauna. The food again is delicious and I taste it all. I have to; I can’t see what it is. I am boiling.

Hot sweet beetroot, fresh chapattis and an okra and potato dish I think. He offers chicken curry but I politely decline thinking it’s a bit late for curry and although I have an en suite, I don’t want to wake them up with white woman explosions in the night.

‘No curry Mem? There’s no more fish.’

‘No that’s fine thank you, I don’t eat much.’

I realise that while I have been vaguely anxious about travelling solo on this journey, these men are anxious too. It is a risk for them having me aboard on my own. The boat is owned by a company and therefore it’s very important I enjoy myself. I smile a lot and compliment the chef. I love the hot sweet tea and it appears again with a promise to make me cup first thing in the morning. It must be obvious that I am happy and thrilled because we all finally relax. I say ‘goodnight’ and go to bed. He starts the air con which I set at 25 degrees. That’s quite cold enough to dissuade the flying visitors. Windows and doors closed there are a few flies around the lights in my bedroom but not enough to worry me. I switch the lights off because there is enough light coming through the curtains. The boat rolls gently on the swell and I hear some fireworks and children’s laughter on the river, must be a party. I look through the curtains to see but the window outside is seething with a thick carpet of little white flies. I can’t see anything through them.