(Note: the following is purely fictional)
It's been a hellish few days for the Fiji masses. Many reckon half of the populace would start throwing molotov cocktails into the compound of Paradiso Del Presidente, the official residence of the republic's president. The government had announced a hefty increase in the country's fuel prices. While the official government organ splashed images of white sandy beaches on its front page to distract the public on the current woes that were plaguing the Cabinet ministers. Sex scandals, racial riots and a possible motion to topple the president's cronies have threatened to put Fiji into turmoil. Meanwhile in the hot and humid capital of Suva, the city's 77,000 odd residents were bracing for an extended heatwave.
Peach seller Hakamka Buono was one of these Suvavians whose shirts were drenched in
sweat by mid-morning. But Hakamka was not bothered by Fiji's political drama queens. Instead of complaining about the current economic downturn with fellow traders at the harbour front, Hakamka opted to drown his misery in cheap stout. Slouching with fatigue at the counter in his neighbourhood drinking hole, Hakamka downed his fourth glass of local Ganis stout. Everything about his body reflected a person who was tired from the day's labour. His haggard-looking face. His disheveled dark brown hair. His drooping shoulders. Only his eyes were still animated and alive and watching the news screened on the nearby television set.
"The government will revise the diesel subsidies for fishermen," said the red-haired
female newscaster in a business suit. "However, the agriculture ministry also announced an abolishment for all business loans for small-scale farmers," continued the newsreader.
Hakam sat slouched and unperturbed. All he could think about was how the hell would he get new ballet shoes for, Susanna, his youngest daughter. His little Susanna, a precocious girl of seven had a mishap the previous week. Her ballets shoes had soles which were so loose that it and had an opening which could fit the whole presidential residence in Suva. Or at least that's what Susanna said to her father.
"I suppose your good president would not hesitate building another palace for himself . But he would die before replacing my ballet shoes and building a new concert hall," said Susanna as Hakamka tucked her into bed.
It's been a hellish few days for the Fiji masses. Many reckon half of the populace would start throwing molotov cocktails into the compound of Paradiso Del Presidente, the official residence of the republic's president. The government had announced a hefty increase in the country's fuel prices. While the official government organ splashed images of white sandy beaches on its front page to distract the public on the current woes that were plaguing the Cabinet ministers. Sex scandals, racial riots and a possible motion to topple the president's cronies have threatened to put Fiji into turmoil. Meanwhile in the hot and humid capital of Suva, the city's 77,000 odd residents were bracing for an extended heatwave.
Peach seller Hakamka Buono was one of these Suvavians whose shirts were drenched in
sweat by mid-morning. But Hakamka was not bothered by Fiji's political drama queens. Instead of complaining about the current economic downturn with fellow traders at the harbour front, Hakamka opted to drown his misery in cheap stout. Slouching with fatigue at the counter in his neighbourhood drinking hole, Hakamka downed his fourth glass of local Ganis stout. Everything about his body reflected a person who was tired from the day's labour. His haggard-looking face. His disheveled dark brown hair. His drooping shoulders. Only his eyes were still animated and alive and watching the news screened on the nearby television set.
"The government will revise the diesel subsidies for fishermen," said the red-haired
female newscaster in a business suit. "However, the agriculture ministry also announced an abolishment for all business loans for small-scale farmers," continued the newsreader.
Hakam sat slouched and unperturbed. All he could think about was how the hell would he get new ballet shoes for, Susanna, his youngest daughter. His little Susanna, a precocious girl of seven had a mishap the previous week. Her ballets shoes had soles which were so loose that it and had an opening which could fit the whole presidential residence in Suva. Or at least that's what Susanna said to her father.
"I suppose your good president would not hesitate building another palace for himself . But he would die before replacing my ballet shoes and building a new concert hall," said Susanna as Hakamka tucked her into bed.
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