Nairobi, Oct. 2 -- The last time I was at Red Ginger, there was a birthday party out in the gazebo. I had forgotten my jacket and was so cold I couldn't have fun. I remember looking across at the bar enviously, where a bunch of very rowdy men were having the time of their lives. It looked warmer over there. How little you can do when cold gets into your bones.

Anyway, I was back, this time not for a party but to meet a pricing actuary who is a recovering alcoholic and also rears pigs. None of these things are related. Fortunately. We settled at the bar I had admired from across the winter seats. "This place is warm," I told him. He asked if I was cold.

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