Second Nigerian

Sharing the Envy with the big Deaf Bruiser who gives massages at the Wadi tables and scrounges meals by the looks. While the apple was being diced the man enquired about a drink, not exactly asking, but clearly implied. No way the fellow had tasted this class of fruit; the price he would never believe. (A number of meals at Wadi could be got for less.) Almost sumo size; maybe 120kg. After the first quarter the man waited nonchalantly for what would follow. The avocado sushi sat right there before him on the table. Best behaviour waiting. It would take a good bit of fuel to move that big engine that was for sure. Married with kids from memory, Hussein’s younger brother Sharrif had said. Sharrif had bought the man food a number of times and tea also, with strong-armed massages returned that made Sharrif wince. The Arab Sharrif was no pygmie himself either. Nothing for it, the man had to be offered the second quarter, a time lag like that was stretching it. EVOLVE Mixed Martial Arts tee XXXXL added further suggestion of menace. Fair candidate this man for an ancestry associated with the little known leg of the human trade from Africa, over to Southern India and from there the rubber plantations and mines here. The Tamil “Nigerian,” as his fellow Indians at Har Yasin called him, came to mind; the pair had a lot in common, and very little indeed with the locals. In the Deaf’s case all was compounded of course. The sushi too must have been another adventure, tiny morsels clasped rather daintily between thumb and forefinger. There was no avoiding the drink either afterward, pen and paper making it simple enough. TEA O. English form; that educational sector would not be so well equipped with bahasa. That was all very well as far as the preference went, but was that to be hot or cold? Man wanted the paper back again. No need, no need. “Cold” signed with the shivering and fist shaken in front. No, not that; the other, the man replied. Coming right up. A little fit of peevishness would keep the roasted almonds in the pouch; the meal was light enough as it was. For the Nigerian of course the tidbit he had been provided was a drop in the ocean. While the tea was being fetched the man went out back and returned from the Western Food stall with fish and fries, unexpectedly the mayo left on the side of his plate. Required form hereabout was to offer your table companion; a grace that had escaped the Nigerian at school. Never mind. A passing bike exhaust that had many us cringing seemed to have been within this man’s scope; or otherwise he had merely followed the turning heads. Late-30s/early-40s—as in the case of unfamiliar racial groups, difference difficult to judge.