Monday, 1 September 2014

Drowning in Mango - Part Four

I passed out. The heat did it. My brain was like a fried egg, one that had stuck to the bottom of the pan.

When I came to I was quite violently sick and entirely at the mercy of my hosts. Having washed up on their land, I'd become their problem.

"How did he get here?" they said, or so I imagined, since their Cantonese-like jabber was totally incomprehensible to me. I understood some Mandarin and perhaps three phrases in Cantonese, but not one word of this language.

"How'd he get here? Where's he come from? Who is he? Why? god-knows-how". They chatted away at a million miles an hour and I presumed to have the first clue what they were saying.

It was still so hot. No air-con. Barely enough breeze to lift a sock on the washing line, not that there were any socks. Sandal weather.

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