ah, thai delight – there are few cuisines as delightful as the food from this eastern land, to us south asians anyway, and i’ve been meaning to drop by for a while. so here i am with abdurrahman, a resident of phase two whom we met at the chinese restaurant earlier this year.

‘i am suspicious,’ says abdurrahman. ‘they’ve got western cuisine on the menu, even pizza. why didn’t they just specialise in thai?’

‘maybe because this is also a hotel?’ i venture.

‘maybe,’ says abdu. ‘but they could’ve had a separate menu for their guests, this just seems cheap.’

we order a chicken penang curry, stir fried beef in oyster sauce, and steamed rice.

‘what’s been going down with you?’ i ask.

‘oh god, i had to clear a shipment through customs, it took me forever,’ says abdu. ‘and that’s just the beginning. there’s too much work.’

‘ah,’ i say non-commitally.

‘what about you?’

‘i woke up around ten, did my routine – ‘

‘you have a routine?’ asks abdu.

‘yes, i meditate and read poetry before starting the day.’

‘haha.’

‘but jokes aside, i like to impose some kind of order on the beginning to make up for the chaos after.’

‘all right.’

the food arrives soon. i try the penang curry.

‘oh man, the chicken is weird,’ i tell him. ‘don’t you think?’

abdu chews a piece.

‘it tastes like chicken filleyo,’ he says, making a face. ‘not to be confused with chicken filet.’

‘it’s a shame cos the gravy is great.’

‘you know,’ begins abdu. ‘there’s something off about the curry too. i’ve had penang curries that are much thicker.’

‘hmm,’ i say eating the beef in oyster sauce. ‘this is ok, i like the meat.’

‘yeah,’ says abdu. ‘it’s tender, good. but not mindbending.’

‘indeed indeed.’

‘i talked to samfa today,’ he tells me. ‘i told her i was losing it because of work but it’s her holiday so i stopped myself.’

‘do you think that to an observer we’d seem like ants serving a city or a state or a community? you know, without much individuality or even agency?’

‘ants are born into their roles right?’ says abdu.

‘perhaps it takes us time to figure out our role. and for the most part, we’re pretty law abiding. we sit where we are supposed to, hide our nakedness when we go out, stand in line for the bus.’

‘what are you on about?’

‘just musing,’ i tell him. ‘well, we’re kind of fucked aren’t we? i mean, as a country.’

‘not more than we were.’

‘the economy is in free fall isn’t it?’

‘someone will bail us out.’

‘hmm. i sort of wish we’d get into one of those IMF programs. kill off half the civil service.’

‘yeah, maybe it’ll be good for us in the long run,’ says abdu. ‘but it’s political suicide.’

‘here’s the bill,’ i say. ‘345. it’s not really worth it. but at least we can still eat out.’

‘we’re fortunate,’ says abdu and we head out into the night.

unbeknownst to us, it has rained, and the air is filled with the beautiful earthy smell of wet soil. it’s the kind of night that draws you in and holds you close, asking you to pause and pay attention. so, i stop to take a breath and connect with the world.

‘what the hell are you doing?’ says abdu. ‘it’s the middle of the road.’

‘just let me breathe.’