Straddling the Ethiopian border, MOYALE makes Marsabit look like a metropolis. Though the town is growing rapidly, and was recently supplied with electricity, the centre is small enough to walk around in fifteen minutes. You'll find several sandy streets, a pretty mosque, a few dukas, a bar, a camel-tethering ground, two petrol stations (one of which occasionally belies its defunct appearance), a big police station, a fairly large market area, a new KCB bank and an incredibly slow post office – five weeks to Europe. Moyale is not much to write home about in fact, and there's not a lot to do except wander around, perhaps try some camel milk (very rich and creamy) and pass the time of day with everyone else, with or without the aid of miraa. Note that there is the odd shooting in town involving "Ethiopian bandits", with the local population as victims. It's a regular enough occurrence, it seems, judging by the practised haste of the shopkeepers in sealing up their businesses on hearing even distant gunfire.

The most interesting aspect of Moyale is its architecture – at least, the good number of traditionally built houses which are still standing (the rest were bombed and shelled during World War II, after which the good citizens of Moyale clubbed together for "less fortunate people", contributing £80 to the colony's "Food for Britain Fund"). The Boran build in several styles, including circular mud-and-thatch huts, but in town the houses are rectangular, of mud and dung on a wood frame, with a flat or slightly tilted roof projecting 1–2m to form a porch, supported by sturdy posts and tree trunks. The roof is up to 50cm thick, a fantastic accretion of dried mud, sticks, scrap, and vegetation. Chickens and goats get up there, improving the roof's fertility, and every time it rains another layer of insulating herbage springs up. As a result, the houses are cool while the outside temperature hovers above 30°C for most of the year (July and August are cooler).