Of Weed messing up friends and a weekend in the wild (read Rongai)

I had a cousin called Maina, (never mind the name, he was Kisii) who smoked bhang,  a few sticks too many,  that it messed him so badly. He started reporting every wrong thing he has ever done, with whom, where, when and how. Especially if you showed up at the home rehab, where he was confined to check on him and he remembered what he has ever done with you or for you, he will start regurgitating it in front of the bewildered  relatives and friends.

So being cousins,  let me pick on a random thing and see how could tackle it…

Assuming that over the weekend you sent him a pack of condoms, or much worse he was your guard as you shagged some village girl in the Saiga (Houses where men start sleeping after circumcision). Or worse still he was your accomplice in an abortion or Heaven forbid you participated in a combi (the village version of group sex or threesome or foursome or whatever) with him and you happened to show up to pass your get well message…He will give you a look and start laughing rather disarmingly…Then…

He was a light stammerer, and spoke is a soft regulated bass…he will go like…
“Yaa Omoisi( Hey comrade), it was fantastic over the weekend…You really screwed that chick so well, ” Then he will turn to the one of the elderly uncles and say something as damaging as,

“He is really a loaded donkey, he made that chick scream his name, boy, you are amazing!” The will let out a shrill laughter and sing praises of the family and clan. In the case of an abortion, he will unleash all the juicy (no pun intended) details and expressing his sympathies with the poor girl. In case of group sex, he will explain everything, to the horror of those around, especially our mothers who are  at advanced ages…

Soon it became embarrassing for individuals in every age group to hang out with him in the domesticated rehab. It was dangerous, embarrassing and calamitous. Those cousins who had participated in any ‘bad’ business with him gave the place a wide berth, essentially betraying themselves that they have been up to some mischief, more so the incestuous relationships that are common in the village.

The old man could nudge my elder brothers and cousins to go and keep Maina company, help him heal and explain to him the dangers of drugs. Nobody was ever willing to go and the unease and the tension in the room could power an overcrowded neighbouhood such as Highrise Nobody was ever ready. The tension, the suspense, the possibility of the reckless mouth of Maina spoiling your ‘picture’ in front of respectable persons could even annoy the worms in one’s stomach. What amazed me back then was that even some reasonably younger but old enough uncles were all of a  suddenly busy…

I was reminded of Maina recently when talking about how drugs are abused in the University of Nairobi and the situation is really out hand with a student who knows of what is going on. Fareed told me that his friend went bonkers and was screaming in the hostels and crying profusely…When he asked him what had exactly happened.

He confided to Fareed that his girlfriend was pregnant. He kept crying that he is poor and he has no source of livelihood for the child…Fareed asked him how come he did not use protection, this is what he had to say…

(Crying), “See, I have never even screwed her. She has only given me blow job once and I came and she swallowed. Now she is pregnant,”

He is now in the rehab.

Drugs are bad. I remember sometime in Campus this Muslim chick who came to the urinals and started looking up men’s penises, asking if she could have a peek at them. At least three guys granted her the favour, more out of curiosity than adventure. Some were taken aback or thought that the Naswa guys were around.

Drugs are ruinous. No fewer than ten friends of mine have checked into the rehab. We were all there when it begun. Either we chose to ignore, or thought they were having fan and could manage to contain them. They used to say that they will only develop a habit but will not get addicted. Rather regrettably some were extremely brilliant, now they are completely ruined, spending their time in between rehabs and no sooner they check out than they run to the den almost immediately.

I have never been a drugs’ person. This is mainly due to my upbringing in a strictly religious set up, both from home and the schools I attended. That does not mean that I have not had my fare share of ‘fan’ with drugs.

Though, they have never had a special effect or given me a specific memorable high, the first time and the closest I ever felt like taken outside myself was when I smoked four sticks feeling like superman. The next thing I knew was a dizzy feeling like there was a whirlwind in the head, followed by a hurricane called (insert any Nyeri female name here). Hurricanes are named after women for a reason.

Then there was peace within and a smooth waterfall flowing from the back of my head down towards the neck…Then I had this discussion with myself, staring at the bathroom mirror…

SILASI OUTSIDE THE MIRROR: Boy you are wonderful. Do you know you are the tallest man alive in the University and you need to start utilizing your height…?
SILAS INSIDE THE MIRROR: True by the way. And you are handsome as well.
SILAS OUTSIDE THE MIRROR: That’s gay. F*** you.
SILAS INSIDE THE MIRROR: Noo! Just accept it. Ladies find you hot, now you know that, don’t you?

I gave that mirror a bad kick that hurt my feet rather badly. I still have that scar as a souvenir for that epic moment.  The kick was Billy Blanks, Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris combined. It broke the lengthy bathroom mirror. Then I walked out whistling slowly. A Tony Braxton song that I last heard in 1997, July sneaked into my head…The song was I love him, some Him. Rather surprisingly is that I had the lyrics with me. I have not had the time to confirm if they were the the right ones or my brain just composed its rendition.

Then as noted in last week’s blog, I tasted some special ‘tobacco’ from Fareed and the effects were well noted. Of greater concern was the potency of the drug that made me abandon Kelly Rowland, my celebrity crush. The drugs almost gave me an erotic dream with Mariah Carey. Not bad though, on second thoughts, save for the mosquito that ruined the fan.

Drugs are bad to say the least. My boy Seth, had an illusion that he was Isaac and his weed supplier Abraham as they walked down the flight of stairs after buying his sticks. The weed seller was a taller than him and Seth saw a long beard and white hair and he knew he was being taken to be sacrificed and boy did he plead with ‘Abraham’ to spare his life? And I once ran into this lady at midnight who hugged me and asked if I had taken lunch. I thought she was being funny until I learn later that she has gone bonkers.

Trip to Rongai
On Saturday, Seth called on me that we need to go check on my best and closest buddy, Ericoh. The agenda of the trip was to take to Ericoh some weed for him to taste for the first time. Hopefully it is not the beginning of that ruinous path. The objective of the trip for Seth to see the plot where Ericoh stays with the hope of buying it some time. The aim of the trip was for me to ride a bicycle. It is been a while.

So we checked into the immigration department for a temporary Visa to Rongai. There was no queue and we were served too fast. Seth had not renewed his Yellow Fever certificate and we had to rush to the hospital for the certificate, before we board Flight 126 to Rongai. The Railways Airport was crowded but we were able to get a flight.

Travelling to Rongai is like traveling through Time. We adjusted our watches accordingly, checked the weather and the Met department assured us, we will experience the ordinary Mediterranean Climate experienced in Rongai.

So the plane hit the runway. There was traffic, but as soon as we hit the Rongai air space, we could feel it. It was cool. It was luxuriant. Rongai is in the Wild, literary. Ericoh stays in a place called Kisembe. From the name, one is persuaded to think that is where they process animal hides or where the sewage system of Rongai State is processed.

But Kisimebe is a cool place. A few miles to Rongai. It borders the Nairobi National Park. Our prayers were that we don’t bump into a stray and pissed off lion. We were so hungry. There was a small shop, the only of its kind over there. One of those ramshackled, Mabati Kibanda where they sell some natural uji, served from a Kimbo mkebe…Mark it, it is mkebe, not the plastic ones.

I ordered a cold coke but there was no refrigerator and the woman inside the shop with a shaved head, handed me a coke that was expiring on that very day. My boy Seth, settled for the local Maasai Yorghut and some doughnuts. Then we proceeded to Erico’s place. It is a 30-minute walk, but it is a spiritual exercise and the best interaction of flora and fauna.

Erico told us, there at least 1007 known species of birds in the forest that we were traversing. We met people. Imagine, they communicate with horns in Kisembe? I felt that I was somewhere in Africa in 1497AD. We got to Erico’s place and Seth initiated Ericoh into the Weed business and I could see Ericoh was not good in taking lessons. He wasted almost three sticks teaching Ericoh on how to hold the stick and inhale and get high, first enough.

I had my share, grabbed the bike and took to the road. I was riding it like Lance Armstrong in Tour de France. I felt like I can grow to be the best cyclist not only in the planet but the universe. The cool Mediterranean side air, the verdant fields, and the azure sky covered with sparse milky white clouds, gave me the impression that I was in the best  but distant place in world. I cycled some five or so miles and went back to let Seth ride a little. Ericoh was disappointed that he could not get high and feel the overrated highness of weed.

Later on, we watched the London underdogs waste each and both lost the two points. So there is only one team in London. ARSENAL. It was time for us to leave Rongai and we board flight after donkeys dropped us at the nearest road. What hit me most was when I was given my balance in terms of notes of former president Moi that were last in circulation 1992.

I got to Nairobi West Mall, my drinking den to catch on the second half of the Arsenal-Aston Villa match. That Mikel Arteta free kick is the best so far in the season and with that Arteta earned my respect some more. I rate him as an average midfielder but on a good day, he gets right. I tried to use the Moi notes given to me as balance but I was almost arrested for using unacceptable denomination that is legal tender anymore.

All in all, drugs are bad. Let us not let our friends get addicted. I am drafting on a two month plan for my boy Seth who needs weed for creative purposes but from the number of sticks he had up on Rongai, it is dangerous…They kept popping up…He is clearly in the ADDICTION STREET, before he turns into the NEVER-GOING BACK AVENUE and then he hits the RUIN HIGHWAY.


3 thoughts on “Of Weed messing up friends and a weekend in the wild (read Rongai)

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