When Eric Bengi was a boy, his father would wake him in the dead of night just to see the cars. Around 3 a.m. they would arrive at his village, Chogoria in central Kenya. In the wet — it was usually wet — the cars would fly past, sometimes sideways, headlights blaring, before roaring off into the dark. No sooner had they come than they’d gone, but the impression they left on the young boy lasted much longer than the tire tracks in the mud.

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