The day started pretty well.
As I tied the lace of my sneakers, spritzed an awesome scented mist on my hair and straightened my body-con dress, admiring the work of God in the mirror, I had no idea what was to unfold in a couple of hours. I hooked up with a friend who was concluding a professional make up training course and needed someone for a makeover which was one of the requirements for ‘graduation’. I was excited because I love make up but I’m mostly clueless about brushes, arches and foundation. After the session, I decided to leave to get some other things done but the devil ministered to me to follow her home because she just made a very tasty ofada sauce that I knew would be awesome with rice, spaghetti, bread and even cabin biscuit. It was that good.
It was resting on a plate on a table top in the kitchen. It was secluded from everything almost as if it had a virus that could kill just by a slight touch. It looked very bland and dry with crumbs falling away from the whole chunk like the walls of Jericho. People came in, ignored every other food on the kitchen table top and went straight to it like it was some god that needed to be revered in a special type of way. They’d take a small chunk and leave. I attributed this attitude of contentment towards this confectionery to its bland look and possibly bad taste.
‘Why are you people cutting small na? The cake is not sweet abi?’, I asked naively.
They laughed and called me different things that spelt novice to me. I felt challenged so I picked a knife up and cut a small piece. It was delicious. Arguably, the best cake I had eaten in a while. I asked my friend again what was in it and why everyone was cutting a small piece and then she told me it had weed in it.
I have had my fair share of weed in ‘fruit’ punches and muffins in the past so I thought I could handle it because I never got high from weed. I didn’t know there are different levels of weed potency. I cut another chunk, this time larger than the first one and popped it in my mouth. The others started laughing and one actually started pleading with me to stop.
‘D, have you ever been high from weed before?’ She asked.
‘Noooo’, I replied.
‘I actually don’t get high. I have had lots and lots before.’ I continued stupidly.
While taking this cake, I started eating my food too and after a while, my friend offered to drop me at another friend’s house and the others followed. All through the ride I wasn’t feeling anything but they kept on telling me it would come. I even started bragging that I didn’t even take enough and it was pissing me off.
They dropped me at my friend’s house and left, still laughing.
One hour later.
I was lying down on a couch in my friend’s house when suddenly; it felt as if the weight of the entire world and an alternate world for sumo wrestlers alone was upon me. My limbs felt heavy and I didn’t understand what was going on. I just concluded that I was probably very tired from the stress of the week so I shook it off because I had totally forgotten about the weed. My friend, who wasn’t at home called me but it was as if she called me from outer space. I could hear her but she sounded very distant. The phone call felt like a scene from the 90s Yorrywood horror movie, Ti Oluwa ni le. I kept on repeating everything she was saying back to her. I knew something was wrong but I still didn’t think it was weed.
‘I’m a baddo now, weed doesn’t affect me.’ I thought to myself.
After the disastrous phone call, I got up with difficulty and started pacing like someone who has just been pronounced mad and sentenced to endless wandering by marine spirits. After a while, I sat down and was gisting with my friend’s sister till she started sounding like what Dj Khaled would sound like if he talked into a standing fan. I got up and continued pacing. She knew something was wrong with me and she asked me. I told her I ate weed cake and she said it will go.
Meanwhile, the weed was just getting started, doing one mad press up like:
I asked her to please drop me in my house and she said okay but she needed to take a bath first so I continued pacing. I stopped at the kitchen after a while and started staring at a tree or something green intently. In my mind I thought it would be the last time I would ever see it in my life so I needed to stare at it very well. I don’t why I thought this tree had any significance in my life but I stayed.
My friend’s sister offered me sweets and I packed the whole bunch and popped about five in my mouth wishing for some sort of relief.
It felt as if I was floating and my vision was hazy. It was as if clouds were in my brain because everything sounded distant. I was also drinking water a lot, looking for any form of relief but nothing worked.
At this point, in my subconscious, I became scared. I told my friend’s sister to take me to the house where I took the weed. I believed if I went home, I would definitely die and my body would be discovered 3 days later. In the midst of all that, I also thought of the state in which I left my room that morning and I didn’t want to be discovered like that.
She dropped me at my friends place and left. As soon as I entered, my friend and the others spent at least 10 minutes laughing at me. I told them it wasn’t funny and to please take me to the hospital so I won’t die. They said not to worry, that it would fade… But in like six hours.
I was told to enjoy the high. But I wasn’t enjoying it. I was uncomfortable, weak and it felt like huge craters had been tied to each of my legs. Walking around now required a big effort. Everything felt like work including having normal thoughts.
The hallucination began.
I thought my friend and her roommate were going to kill me. They were talking in hushed tones apparently trying to find a way to make me feel better but I felt they were planning my murder. I started avoiding them and hiding in corners so they won’t find me. I had vivid images of being cut up, limb by limb and added to the ofada sauce.
I thought of my mother and what this would mean to her. I started crying.
I called yet another friend who lives on the mainland.
`Please come and carry me from this place, they want to kill me!’ I remember even kneeling down to buttress my plea. She told me to put on the AC, lay under the duvet and try to get some sleep .I did as I was told.
I opened my whatsapp and started looking at messages with people thinking this is what people will say I said last. I thought of sending a broadcast of ‘I love you’ to everyone but I realized I was too weak to answer phone calls that would ensue so I decided to write a letter. I started looking for a paper and pen frantically but couldn’t find. My friend and her roommate brought soaked garri and told me to drink it so I would feel better. I started gulping it down faster than the speed of light. Whilst eating, I threw up and saw the brief look of fear in their eyes.
It’s all over Jackie…
They made me lie down and left the room. I picked my phone up and started looking at my pictures, wondering which one would be used for obituary. I was definitely going insane because I don’t know how in the face of death, I was thinking about obituary pictures on fleek. I think I slept at some point and woke up feeling much better. Things didn’t feel as heavy again and it was as if different weights were being lifted gradually from me. I fell asleep again and woke up later in the night feeling much better so I decided to call an Uber.
I managed to get into the Uber and because of my semi inebriated state; I kept on dozing and muttering incoherent words. I was about to get down from the car at the end of the trip when the driver said,
‘Have a good night, sister Debola.’
Sister who now???
‘Don’t you remember me, from **** Church?. I’m in the sounds and tech group. You normally come to collect the message after church from us every Sunday.’, he said.
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