Ever wondered who’s wearing your cast-offs?

Katrina Manson explores Africa’s extraordinary multimillion-pound trade in secondhand clothing, much of it imported from Britain and the United States

Christmas might be a time for cheer and charity but, just as emotionally consuming, it’s also a time for clear-outs. As the annual wander through your wardrobe beckons, consider what happens to cast-offs dispatched to your nearest charity shop.

Drop off a wardrobe has-been and it may turn up in the dusty pathways of Benin or the nightclubs of Nairobi. Babies in the world’s poorest countries wear tops emblazoned with ‘Little Miss Posh’; men in ex-war zones strut about in vests carrying urban-chic slogans such as ‘Rebel’; the odd bit of Armani mixes in with bright African prints. It’s all part of an improbably fascinating business, filled with informal traders, canny customers and some seriously uncanny moments.

Here’s one of them. In a party exploit typical of homesick expats, I was invited to a Burns supper in hot and heady Freetown, Sierra Leone. Tracking down a haggis was a big challenge (a downtown goat eventually did the honours), but it clearly wouldn’t do to be without a kilt. An hour later I stopped at the first pile of raggedy clothes splayed over the road. The word ‘tartan’ didn’t cut much mustard with the Krio-speaking market woman, but after a rummage on my knees I found not one kilt but two. I have unidentified donors to thank, who no doubt gave their garments away hoping to clear some wee spot of space, perhaps mindful of expanding waistlines, and pleased to give to charity to boot. I doubt they had me in mind.