sampaafulhu is in a hurry to go to hulhumale – she tells me i might get free lunch from that korean place, ‘hi lemon’, that’s just opened up near the skate park.

so me, samfa and her neice beefaanu get in the car with my father-in-law habeeb and off we go into a silvery hukuru afternoon. habeeb is playing ace of base, hit like if you remember them, and it puts me in a good mood. the sea is rippled steel and in the distance the planes in hulhule are lined up straight, their tails displaying marks one after the other – right out of an ad.

then, i’m pushed back against my seat as habeeb accelerates from 0 to 60 with animal intensity. he may be a boomer but the man is fond of speed. even in his thoughts and actions.

meanwhile, beefaanu is talking about her trip to australia.

‘i saw a kangaroo,’ she says.

‘if you didn’t see one it’ll be a cant-garoo,’ says her granddad.

and he’s not one to shy away from a pun, no matter how small.

at two in the afternoon, hi lemon isn’t busy at all. we’re the only customers. they don’t have an extensive menu but what they do have seems pretty good. the woman behind the counter is very chatty and under her guidance, we go for the hot pot and a bucket of fried chicken, seafood and fries and beefaanu gets a milk tea with brown sugar boba.

habeeb is looking at a poster that says ‘strawberry milkshake bobo.’

‘anha kihaa dhera, strawberry milkshake bobo,’ says habeeb. samfa looks at him blankly.

‘strawberry milkshake husvefs oa’ explains habeeb and samfa snorts.

‘put that in,’ she tells me.

my old friend and sister-in-law zubaida and her precocious seven-year-old daughter aisaanike also join us at the table. aisaanike places her mum’s phone on the tiny chair on the table, made for precisely this, and gets lost in the screen.

‘hello dhon aisa,’ says samfa. ‘how are you?’

‘i’m good,’ she says. ‘are you good?’

‘what are you watching these days?’ asks her aunt.

‘legend of korra,’ replies aisaanike.

‘do you like it better than the avatar?’

she shakes her head.

‘legend of korra is a bit boring, right?’ says zubaida.

‘mum’s stories are boring,’ replies aisaanike. ‘cos she doesn’t texture them with details.’

‘what?’ says sampaafulhu. ‘who said that?’

‘i did,’ says aisaanike.

‘where did you hear that? who said this to you?’

‘i think I did because i don’t remember anyone else telling me,’ replies aisaanike, looking sincere.

‘this kid will be the death of us all,’ i tell samfa quietly.

‘when we were small we used to watch thundercats, didn’t we husenfulhu,’ says zubaida.

‘ahh, thundercats are a buncha colonialists trying to impose their ways on a planet they have no business being on,’ i say.

‘yes, very clever,’ says zubaida.

‘i mean, mum-ra has been on third earth for millennia. so of course this ancient mystic will come into conflict with the invading cats. and for this the cats call him evil while the real evil is…’

‘alright, alright,’ says zubaida.

the server brings the food to the table.

‘don’t gobble everything up before the rest of us get a chance,’ zubaida tells me. ‘alright, husenfoolhu?’

‘fine,’ i say. zubaida loves calling me greedy. or implying it. but it’s in fact a medical condition. my greed, i mean.

soon, we’re digging into our meals. the hot pot is exceptional, it’s drowned in a spicy broth and has cheesy noodles, veggies, prawns and spam.

‘spam,’ mutters samfa uncertainly because she’s recently had a root canal but the meat is so tender that it breaks apart in her mouth. guess who’s sold on spam?

‘can you shell the prawns for me?’ sampaafulhu asks her father and he does that diligently, offering her neat, pink unshelled flesh in seconds.

‘you’re such a baby,’ says beefaanu and samfa shakes her head, her mouth full of prawn.

i take a piece of chicken from the bucket. it’s got a sweet sticky sauce on it, which is pretty nice but please avoid the green sauce – it tastes like cheap old school metaa and isn’t the best companion for chicken. and good, crunchy, juicy chicken at that.

‘have some lemonade, there’s far too many drinks,’ says samfa.

‘a most refreshing beverage,’ i tell her and she snorts.

in the end zubaida grabs some passion fruit sorbet and shares it with me. it’s essentially frozen passion fruit, sour & sweet, paired with the satisfying crunch of ice. most good, folks. a great note to end a meal on.

and i don’t know how much the meal cost, and i feel it is rude to ask habeeb, but i think it’s around 1200 for the whole bunch of us.