The villagers, although surprised to see a European cyclist, are always friendly, with their shouts of “Saru Bature” (Greetings, white man). Along the narrow paths one has to be careful to avoid the line of village women walking in single file, striking in their brightly coloured cloth wrappers, carrying wooden bowls of milk and eggs on their heads. In the rainy season they are often hidden around a corner by the tall grass and guinea-corn stalks.