I am on night duty today, I got my banana on my table, having loaded myself with a toxically/”poisonously” peppery meal during the day.
The outside nightlife calls…
I see him now downstairs. He is walking as though he has not a care in the world, his protruding belly bearing signs of a “good living”, his left arm frequently rubbing his bare head(cleanly shaved). No one would know he just left the hospital. He came in some minutes before limping and groaning from a terrible waist pain. Thank Father-God for my life; I was on hand to help him.
The street appears less busy tonight.
A middle-aged man in white gown, walking beside a younger woman who is in shorts, catches my attention. A funny pair, given that culture, plus certain religious doctrines, should have raised eyebrows. The man is not putting on any foot-wear. Well, his religious belief. Frankly, I am not aversed to it. They stop here and there, as if contemplating on some serious issue. Maybe I can’t tell why exactly because I am not yet a good gesture reader.
The usual is happening: cars and people going to and fro in the stream of life; so many going to places; some not going anywhere in particular; some stationary and selling wares; some parading the streets, advertising themselves to members of the opposite sex it seems.
Sometimes I see thse mini-ware sellers and I wonder how much profit they really make. Are they just doing it to fulfil some sense of activity (even though little productivity)? Well, at least, they serve the need of the occasional client who approaches them. But, how do these three family members at one stall selling just bread manage to ever make ends meet from just that? There are many other stalls around selling similar goods and so reduce the client base of this stall.
Just beyond the street, into the darker residential areas on the other side from me, there is some jamming livening the air. It is Monday! What on earth is happening there? Well, I have noticed that in these parts, people don’t need “spectacular reasons” to throw local bashes. (At least, not spectacular to me!) Funny the zone doesn’t appear well-lit. I wonder what many other activities are going on there besides the actual dancing and singing and jollification.
That person hissing couldn’t possibly be hissing at me. The dark night has done a fairly good job of concealing my identity and my possible purpose. There are many more fanciful sights than some random person up in a building with a phone in his hands.
From this floor, I see further into the night. Busy streets besides this immediate one. The stream of life stretches on. Men come and go. Men talk and walk. Men buy and sell. Some beggars; some paraders; some stalkers; some loners. Some looking forward to a home of rest, comfort and love.
- From My Veranda: First Floor… (ifeelshadows.wordpress.com)