A Lion's Pot: The Weed Experience - By Toby Ndunagu

From the ATM to the Mall in search of “Rizzla”, that special paper that rolls the fix best. Where better to find it but the “Jungle”, the little island kiosk in the middle of this Maryland Bush. I am scared as hell but trying to keep cool. My hands slightly trembling, I pass the folded naira note to the dude in grimy vest, who from what I see, is a bit ‘high’ but still manages to step inside the kiosk. Soon he comes out with a pharmaceutical nylon, full of the green-gray substance. He hands it over, looking at me half-sure if I aren’t up to it, gave me a nod and nothing more.

Back in my Lodge. Thankful I was not arrested. Not yet, at least. I shuffle my hands to get started. There is a knock on the door. I slide the pack inside my pocket, open the door, and welcome two of my hommies and a random lodgemate who is always seeking for a “session” and who happens to be the best “tapper” around. Tapping: the art of rolling up.

And we begin. Light up. Windows open. Balcony door ajar. The “joint” in-between my fingers, I take the first ‘drag’, take a drag a bit too much that it leads to an embarrassing cough. Moving on from several drags, I feel a tingly feeling running down my spine, a good one no doubt. Within minutes I am into a state of intoxicated relaxation, euphoria and dreaminess. In this state of calmness, a short time can seem like one hour due to the time distortion. At this time, my senses are heightened, and everything I see, hear, smell or taste is different than normal.

And I feel it coming. The short bursts of extreme hunger universally referred to as the “munchies” At this stage, all you crave for is sweet things. I open my fridge and tear open a box of Milo Cereals. I pour a handful for my guests as well who were also having their episode of the munchies.

Next are the giggles. We find ourselves giggling. I first let out a giggle, then suddenly, we’re all giggling. Oh no, it’s the “Giggles”; uncontrollable fits of giggling, anything and everything is amusing. Everyone is laughing at everyone, with one another, at anything.

As I manage to recover my psycho-motor abilities, I groggily get on my feet, wobbling like my first baby steps holding the wall and table, till I make it to the bathroom, I stare in the mirror. My reflection I see, with bloodshot eyes. I lick my lips to see how dry it is. I am disappointed at what I’ve done. Here I make a solemn promise to myself never to try it again. I head back to the room. I think of which serial movie to play. It has to be one without much talking to understand what is going on and also have enough body movement and conflict to keep our attention long enough. I laugh at this criteria I made while I insert “The Flash.” We all assume different positions across the television in preparation for the epic sleep ahead.

TODAY is exactly two years later, I never stopped. I couldn’t stop. After every session, I walked to the mirror to feel regrets and disappointment but I never stopped. Two of my hommies were rusticated last year for smoking in the hostel. But the worst was yet to happen. The worst was when Michael came back from Abuja with the new fix. A pack of heroine. It’s in the lodge now, and I can’t wait at the door anymore. I take two quick knocks on the door and Michael opens it. I walk in. Quick he bangs it shut, and for a while, I wonder if I will ever walk out ever again.