He doesn’t want me to “over describe” his mother. So I will venture a more restrained version. Everybody has called her “Madhe” for so long her real name is of little consequence. If humans were elements of nature she would be a hurricane.
Every Friday we’d gather around the counter at Pitcher and Butch and trade war stories. There was Jamo, a mechanic, ex Baraton University, Bachelor of Technology in Automotive. Boisterous, loud, carefree. He worked in a garage in Westlands as a garage manager.
He was seated at the Intercontinental Hotel’s Poolside Bar nursing a scotch. This was the tail-end of 2014. He was with an MCA lady friend who he’d known for dog’s years. “He will be here,” she said unperturbed as she brought her merlot to her lips.