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MARCHING POWDER

At first, I felt obliged at least to acknowledge that someone was speaking to me. The first few times someone held out his hand, I said, 'Sorry. I haven't got any money. No hay.' But Ricardo told me just to ignore them.

'Once they get your attention, they won't leave you alone until you give them something. So it's best not even to look at them. Don't establish eye contact. OK?'

I thought he was being a bit heartless and didn't answer him. If someone is right there in front of me, I find it impossible to turn my head and pretend that he doesn't exist at all. But I suppose Ricardo had been there longer than me and knew better. He must have sensed what I was thinking.

'Look, Thomas. I know it's sad,' he said, sounding like I had just accused him of something very serious. 'Give them some money, if you want. But they'll just buy base with it. If you want to do someone a favour here, you're better off buying them a meal or giving them something they can't sell.'

When I still didn't respond, Ricardo decided to prove his point in a different way. He led me up a staircase and along another dark corridor. We stopped at the very end, where I could just make out a thin ladder that looked similar to the one that led up to Ricardo's room.

'Alonso!' he called out, banging on the trapdoor above him.

No one answered, so he called again. Eventually there was a shuffling of feet and the trapdoor opened.

The first thing that struck my senses as we climbed into Alonso's room was the overpowering smell. It was one of those horrible chemical smells that gets inside your skin and stays with you for a long time afterwards.

'That smell is base,' Ricardo whispered in English before introducing me to Alonso, a short, skinny Bolivian dressed in filthy clothes. Alonso was balding slightly and, judging by his wrinkly skin and tired face, I guessed he was about fifty years old. Ricardo later told me he was only thirty-five.

'¿Cómo está?' Alonso asked politely, nodding to me, although his eyes were so glazed that it seemed he was only just aware of my presence. I looked around his room.

The cell was tiny and had no windows, trapping the smell of base smoke inside. Posters of half-naked women lined the walls and where