‘Knock, knock...’ We nearly jumped out of our skins in shock! In one fluid motion, I yanked out my oversized Bowie Knife with such speed that it felt as though it might have travelled back in time. Sitting in our capricious Land Rover in a small village called Aitong, all we could see outside was a deep black void. Yet, there appeared to be a vague shape standing only a foot away from our vehicle. There wasn't the slightest suggestion of light anywhere - no moon, no stars, no lampposts, not even an illuminated Coca Cola or McDonald's billboard. And as for people? There were none. Not a soul in sight.
A graveyard would have been more crowded than this.
It was clear that Aitong was no bustling hub of activity, nor did it remotely resemble a merchandising mecca.
We could not have felt more marooned if we had been stranded on one of Saturn's outer rings.
Still, at the tip of my blade, I could just make out a pair of terrified, white-open eyes. A quick mental calculation - factoring in the location, size, and the sheer horror emanating from those eyes - led me to conclude that they were, indeed, human.
My conclusion was immediately confirmed when a petrified voice stammered:
‘Stop!! I am Rafael, your guide from Ol-Seki. James sent me to rescue you! Please to do not stab me with your sword!’
An opening excerpt from What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Chronicles of Chaos and Courage remains available here. The full book can be ordered here.
Nicole. Again. Still Here. Possibly Against Her Will.
This is the look of a woman who’s seen too much—and suspects more is coming.
There’s no screaming here. No dramatic monologue.
Just the calm, controlled face of someone who’s had to explain to immigration officers, customs agents, and wild hippos that yes, she is here voluntarily.
Probably.
Captured somewhere between a Land Rover breakdown and a philosophical argument about elephant diplomacy, this moment says it all:
She could’ve been sipping wine in Tuscany.
Instead, she’s married to a chaos engine with a pilot license and a god complex.
Nicole and the Ghost of British Engineering Past
Meet Nicole Romdane: calm, composed, and seated on top of a 4x4 that’s seen more betrayal than a Shakespearean palace coup.
This is the Land Rover Defender—Empire’s rusted chariot, a machine held together by imperial denial and mud.
It growled, it smoked, it demanded sacrificial gearboxes every 200km.
And yet… there she sat.
Stoic. Deadpan. Possibly Googling "how to fake a transmission failure to get out of a marriage."
From What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
,where the engine isn’t the only thing overheating.
The Land Rover and the Colonial Hangover
Limuru, March 2012. 8,000 feet above sea level.
Here he stood—our haunted Land Rover, basking in the illusion of serenity between two breakdowns and one identity crisis.
Tea fields rolled gently behind him, but make no mistake: this wasn’t a scene from a postcard.
It was the ghost of a gratefully forgotten empire disguised as adventure.
Every bolt whispered “God save the Queen,” and every gear change screamed revenge for Suez.
We called it exploration.
It called us amateurs.
From What Could Possibly Go Wrong?,
the memoir where tea, tyranny, and transmission fluid meet.
💀Land Rover: Because "Functionality" Is Just a Suggestion 💀
Somewhere between Nairobi and the Mara, March 2012, we learned the hard truth:
The British didn’t lose the empire.
They just exported its dysfunction.
Three flats.
A leaking gearbox.
Spark plugs fouled with the dark magic of colonial guilt.
The suspension? Non-existent.
The ride? A bone-grinding tribute to post-traumatic back spasms.
It took us eight hours to do what a wounded donkey on stilts could've handled in four.
Nicole stopped speaking.
I started inventing new curse words in multiple languages.
And when we finally arrived?
We pitched camp like survivors of a vehicular exorcism.
From What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
—because sometimes the road to hell is paved with British steel and imperial smugness.
