Dada 45

I went out a little late, at twelve thirty, with Abdul Hassan who works in the shipping office down the quay. The office looks out over the river and we spent a moment watching the cargo ships coming into the port bathed in the scorching hot sun.

Just then, a truck arrived with racket of rattling chains and what sounded like explosions from its engine boxes. It was stacked with wire crates Abdul asked me if I should go for it and I started to run. The truck rushed past and we chased after it. I was blinded by the noise and dust. I could barely see a thing and all I felt was the exhilarating rush as I sped between the winches and machinery, past the masts of the fishing boats and trawlers bobbing up and down in the distance. The cargo and container ships with their hulls daubed with their signs of Kojo Lines or Ned Lloyd or Maersk, appeared like magic signs from across the sea like the Dada used to talk about.

I took a huge leap and managed to jump on the truck. Then I helped Hassan climb up. We were gasping for breath as the truck bumped along the uneven cobblestones of the quayside, amid the sun and the dust. Rana was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe.  By the time we got to Jamila’s, we were bathed with sweat. She was always there, with her fat stomach, her apron and her laughing eyes. She asked me if I was all right with everything. I said yes and told her I was hungry. I ate very quickly and then I had a coffee. Then I went home and slept a little because I felt heavy with the lunch, and when I woke up, I felt like having a cigarette.

It was late and I ran to catch the trolleybus. I worked all afternoon. It was very hot in the shop and in the evening, when I left, I was glad to walk slowly back home, through the rain and steaming pavements. The sunset would be great tonight and I wanted to watch from my window and also  because I wanted to make myself some boiled cabbage and put some distance between my weekend, myself and the crystallised silver paper; my mouth was as bitter as fallen stars.