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At home in both the bush and the city, Mr. Beard went barefoot in Kenya, wore a saronglike cloth known as a kikoi and once surprised a Vanity Fair reporter when he emerged from his tent accompanied by “four or five” women.

Delicate and handmade, each piece looks special enough to sit alone on a mantel — even a tea towel, a hand-carved wooden spoon or a piece of Kikoi lava stone on a gray rope, which I learn is actually for scrubbing your feet.

To them, the kikoi was only a brightly colored piece of cloth, good enough to wear to market, but nothing a native would get restless about.