8 hours on African roads and I was lightly swaying in and out of sleep when the frenetic rush at the back door of the truck made me turn around on my seat. We had stopped at the side of the road. Women were fighting their way to the truck, holding their goods high up in their hands, as if selling them to God. Sam, our guide stood firmly at the half-open door inside the truck, gesturing numbers to the women. They were really insistent. Still half dreaming, I didn’t quite understand straight away what was going on. I thought the women were going to get the best out of…