Fam. Since we are discussing if we should legalise weed, I got to tell you. Si you know what they said about weed?
Manzeeeeeee… one day bana!

I knew, growing up, that weed was bad. If you smoked weed, it will be in your system for 7 years. Meaning a cop could arrest you on after 6 years and 363 days and still find evidence to lock you up. If St. Peter caught up with you, he just removes you from the line to enter heaven. But the side effects were apparently crazier. Hallucinations. You could go mad. You could go blind. You could take a mop, water in a bucket and some soap, board a bus without money and proceed to mop your neighbor’s farm in their shags in Garba Tula. Or you could remove your clothes and dress the maize or banana stalks instead. And then proceed to direct traffic like the police.

So weed was bad. PERIOD.

So of course if my mother was your mother, you knew in order of priority the one million things you could not do. Smoking was a no-go zone.

One day, an afte after school. I am just chilling at that our humble home in Eastleigh. Peeps playing outside. Me watching mats go past. A couple of bad boys are there, right under our balcony. Quietly Smoking. Cigarettes. And WEED. I am just watching from the window. You puff. You pass it on. And then you sleep for 5 minutes. You wake up. And the cycle goes on.

They finish. Get up and leave. And they look normal. One of them throws a smoke down; I dash quickly out of the house and pick it up. I do not know if it is weed or Roster. I go under the stairs. I lift it up slowly to my mouth like those guys in Dallas. My plan is to breathe out the smoke in slow motion. I am just about to get it to my mouth…


That’s where the confusion began. Now I am sure it was weed. Because I knew people who smoked cigarettes but weren’t blind. It just got dark. I am touching the floor and walls with my hands because I can’t see. Then slowly I start feeling some kidogo pain on my neck. And then some warm sensation on my cheeks. Makamasi kidogo pale. I start shaking… I call my bro.

‘Wray! Wray!’ No answer. ‘I am dying!’ Quiet.

Then my ears start ringing, I am no longer shaking, I can hear the police siren even though I have never heard it. And then I see a small but very bright light through my left eye. Am I in heaven? SO I just chill there. Light eventually comes through a bit more, enough for me to see. But I can’t see from my right eye completely.

Finally man, I see my mom, and I am the happiest kid. I run towards her asking, “Sasa Mum, huku ni wapi?”

She is like, “SIMAMA HAPO. If I ever see you try that nonsense again, I will chop your head off!”

So now I am sure I am going mad. What is she talking about? Try what? I look at my hands to make sure I am not holding a mop.

So apparently, according to eyewitnesses, my mum found me pulling the cigarette on to my mouth and got to me right before it touched my lips. Man, she slapped my hand and my face in a major blinding combo-slap move to kingdom come. That cigarette has never been found since. The pain was so much I thought I was going to be put on a wheelchair.

The last thing I heard that day was, ‘If I ever catch you even thinking about it… ENDA UOGE!’ That is why I never ever tried smoking again. It never even came up ever again. 
For the record, I regained full sight and mobility after 3 days.




Creative Writer | Photographer | Filmmaker

This Post Has 8 Comments

  1. Heheh I had not read this one…is your mum a retired teacher

    1. My mum was boss, manze.

  2. I can hear the police siren even though I have never heard it… 😀 😀
    Day made!

    1. Over time, you realize, ‘Kumbe that is what I was hearing?’ Thank you for reading.

  3. and then you were in heaven, Again. Go sin no more..Hehe

    1. Hahaha… Yes!

  4. Hahaa….that was a proper thwack, as my dad used to call it.

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