it’s a thursday, the day before the new president in his supposedly expensive suit is to be sworn in. this may be the last day of freedom as we know it. and boy, do we know freedom. we are its connoisseurs.

so, fanned by the timid wind, hassanfulhu and i walk towards riveli beachclub & restaurant in phase 1, an upscale, all-white restaurant by the sea.

‘it’s a pretty place,’ says hassanfulhu as we walk up. ‘there are some white people here, look.’

‘don’t point, you moron. for once in your life, act normal.’

‘i AM normal,’ he says, adding: ‘like you’re one to talk anyway.’

i ignore him and we take our seats on the deck. the silky blue sky is lined with salt-white clouds and beyond us the palms rustle.

the smiling server brings us the menus, they are attentive here. we order: an oyakudon with beef for me, and a carbonara for my adventurous friend. when the server departs, i settle into my chair and catch hassanfulhu’s eye.

‘i just think,’ i begin.

‘you do?’

‘i just think we can’t be friends if there’s an asymmetry of power.’

‘what’s that?’

i look at him, at this square jawed man with a greying beard and mustache, his generous forehead topped by gentle waves of thinning hair.

‘i mean if the balance of power tilts towards one person, then that’s it. it’s not a friendship, maybe a mentor mentee kind of fucking thing on my!,’ i slap at it.

‘anyway, yeah,’ i say, trying to continue. ‘so. what?’

‘you alright?’ asks hassanfulhu.

the orders arrive, you’ve got to give them credit for speed.

but to my horror, my dish looks absolutely nothing like an oyakudon, which yes i googled. the rice is long grain, brown from what i suspect is soy and is capped with a fat yellow omelette.

‘isn’t that a nasi-‘ starts hassanfulhu.

‘don’t say it!’ i snap.

i try to eat but give up halfway through, despite my hunger.

‘you ok?’ asks hassanfulhu

i nod irritably and look out towards the beach and catch sight of a small lonely tree, so distinct and alone out there by the beach. and yet it’s reaching, feeling its way up to the light, though cut off from its elders and peers. and i sense something stir within, maybe love, that elusive yet powerful feeling for your fellow godDAMN this fucking *&*&#!

‘lord of the fly,’ mutters hassanfulhu.