Tamil banana. Part 1.

I was sitting on the marble window ledge outside my hostel, smoking there because I just liked that spot on the street, especially at that time of night.

Anyway, a blacked-out Jeep pulled into the driveway of the hostel.

It stopped midway, next to the window ledge.

The electric window whirred down and from its smoky depths a dark figure leaned out.

Naturally, as anyone would, I approached the window.

"I didn't see you yesterday, I came looking," his voice drawled.

I took a drag, kind of buying time, because what the hell am I supposed to say to that?

"Yeah?" I studied his eyes. They were soft brown, old age had collected in a grey ring around the iris.

"Yeah, you're staying in room seven, yeah, I saw your bag in there when I knocked yesterday. My friend needed a place to stay so I checked him in here. You don't know it maybe but we drove past you right here the day before. Now I'm thinking," he leaned closer, "what's an angel doing sitting out here and where did she come from?"

I poised the cigarette between us, by way of answer I guess, because really now, what the hell am I supposed to say to any of that?

"I'm from Pakistan but I was born in London. Where are you from?" I thought he was wearing a turban but actually he had wrapped his decades long dreadlocks around his head.

I thought about why I had just told him that.

"I'm from right here! Sri Lanka. Ah, so what you doing down there where they eat the pig? You're drinking toilet water in London, toilet water. After so many years of eating pigs they become pigs, don't you know. Do you smoke? The herb, I mean." He held out a fat joint.

"No thank you, I'm a teacher.." I had a strong impulse to bail on the situation and I think he sensed it because he pulled back into the darkness of the Jeep. Smoke billowed out of the window.

His chest rumbled with slow laughter while he pulled on his long white beard. His eyes searched my face for something.

"I'm a healer, don't you know.." His mouth set in a grim downwards smile that didn't reach his eyes.

He rolled the car into the car park and we started walking up the stairs of the hostel.

"Come and meet my friend. He's from Pakistan too. You should stay with your people, not those pig eating, toilet water types. An angel like you should be with her people, I can take you places don't you know. I got a white woman. Man! I can't get rid of her! She's got five children from me and I tell you, she just won't go away."

I followed him to a room and mulled over the many things he'd just said.