so here we are walking towards cafeier, hasanfulhu and me, walking as two men may on busy majeedhee magu, that is with extreme caution.

as we pass ooredoo, i nearly trip on something: a familiar masked man holding out his hand.

‘dear god,’ i say. ‘i almost fell over.’

‘not giving him anything?’ asks hasanfulhu.

‘cos i gave him something earlier. when he was near islaamee marukazu.’

‘oh my,’ says hasanfulhu. ‘could it be that you see all the poor as one person?’

‘hey,’ i say quickly. ‘i actually helped him out. the guy near marukazu. he had an issue that the hospitals decided was cosmetic so no aasandha. i gave him some money.’

‘kind of you,’ remarks hasanfulhu. ‘do you think he’s homeless?’

‘no idea.’

‘you didn’t ask?’

‘mmm.’

as we pass by galolhu stadium, we see another man sitting with his arms around his shins pressed against the wall.

‘what’s his deal?’ i ask. ‘where are all these people coming from?’

‘they harshing your mellow?’

‘what’s the government doing about this? why are there such big holes in the welfare net?’

‘why didn’t you give him some money if you’re so concerned?’ he says.

‘look, it’s a systemic thing,’ i begin.

‘excuses, excuses,’ says hasanfulhu dismissively. ‘if we’re ok with taxing the rich, we have an obligation to help these guys out.’

‘right. and how does one follow from the other?’

hasanfulhu just smiles.

and when we receive our ice creams at cafeier i, quietly seething, look at hasanfulhu smack in the eye and say:

‘so, why didn’t YOU give him some money then?’

‘i’m broke,’ he says.

‘what the hell? who’s paying for this shit?’

‘i thought you were,’ he says unconcerned, playing with a blob of ice cream.

‘goddamn. well. i’ll just use my clout,’ i tell him and walk up to the counter. a server is busy behind it, tending to the register.

‘i’m husenfulhu, i’ve come to review your ice cream,’ i tell her confidently since i have tagged the cafe in a couple of posts. ‘mind giving us complimentary scoops and i’ll write about it on my blog?’

‘did you talk to marketing?’ she asks.

‘no, but-’

‘i’m kind of busy right now,’ she says, shutting the conversation and shifting her attention to another customer.

i return to the table, at a loss.

hasanfulhu, who has heard everything, smiles.

‘just shut the fuck up,’ i tell him.