I started smoking back in high school, first because it was trendy to say that you were high, and, really, I was a cool kid and all my cool friends were doing it. But then after high school it developed into a real habit. And by habit I mean every day! Ne ke rata sedidi. (Always being in a daze).
I remember the first time I smoked was back at Mmabatho High behind the toilets. Come to think of it, the toilets at Mmabatho High were where went to steal a kiss, finger-bang chicks, some girls got pregnant, we smoked cigarettes and got drunk. I should start another website about toilets!
So, this friend of mine, Jack, said he had weed from his brother. He already had the joint rolled up, and during first break 5 of us went behind the toilets. It was a small blunt but we all got “high” from it. We had some oranges and lemons and we rubbed it on our hands and ate some to mask the smell. The class that I had after the break was Setswana, and the language amazed me! I think we were doing phonetics or something and we had to use our mouths to pronounce the words. I started pondering on how we used our mouths to make sounds, how we have evolved to understand those noises and how beautiful that shit was! Magical I tell you!
When I got to UP that’s when things really ramped up! They say varsity ke ko Mme ga mpone (my Mother sees nothing). The weed was much better, of course, and I started smoking a whole lot more. It first started weekends only and then it was everyday. Because I had a bursary I had a whole lot of free cash, what with my parents monied up at that time and a bursary, I could afford to buy good quality weed. I also stayed in a nice flat in hatfield with my friend Jerry who was studying these marketing things. One time I had gone out to smoke with the white boy in our block of flats, got the munchies and went to buy myself some lemon poppy seed muffins (the ones with the green stuff in it) across the road. I had munched them on my way home and when I got to the flat my flatmate looked at me, saw how high i was and, I guess I was smiling, said “dude, did you eat the weed as well?”
I also started knowing all the classic sayings: Jah bless! Don’t mix with tobacco, it’s babylon! Pass it to the left because the right way is wrong!
I also learned about using a gerrick, how to extend the zol using two rizla papers, smoking bottle kops, using apples, ‘mining’ the weed on my hands, and all kinds of shit.
I had a dealer, a Nigerian, who had the best weed ever! Swazi, Durban Poison, Skunk and other hydroponic shit. He also sold other hard drugs like cocaine and heroin, but I didn’t touch the stuff at that time. He was a funny character that one. He was a health fanatic, went to the gym, big weed smoker, had a stutter and a lisp. He went to church too. I could never find him on Sunday mornings. If I call him up 9am Sunday he wouldn’t answer his phone and when he called back he would be on some, “Dudze why do you call me on Thunday? You know I’m at church! You you you, mxm, thtop calling me on Th… th… th… mxm, thtop calling me at church!” What kind of drug dealer takes a day off?!
Anyways, so its my regular pick up day on a Friday where I get my shit for the weekend before going to morning class. I would pick up, get high, go to my prac class, hit the library and go home to watch some movies or listen to Jerry have sex with his girlfriend. Jerry’s girlfriend was quite the ugly one. On a scale of 1 to 30 she’s a 2… with a margin of error of one.
When I get to my dealer’s place he’s nowhere to be found. I know dealers disappear once in a while due to deportation issues or not paying enough bribes but usually they get out by the morning, but my dealer is just not there. So I ask one of the characters that hang around his Sunnyside building if they’ve seen him. “Mxm, dat maan has not been here for the past two days my friend-o. What you want? Coke? Weed? Gal?” “Never mind guys.” I only buy from him because I ‘trust’ him as much as a drug dealer can be trusted. Word on the street is that his coke killed that singer girl T.K., but you didn’t get that from me.
After contemplating for about 5 seconds I call one of the homies over. “Yo man, give me some nice Skunk please.” I hand over R50 to homie, he tells me to walk to the end of the street and he disappears around the corner. At the end of the street another dude hands me my merchandise and I ghost. On my way to campus I roll that shit and smoke that shit. The weed gives me nice vibes as I look forward to a nice high at campus while tinkering with oscillators and shit.
So I get to the prac class and everything starts feeling a bit weird. The Prof for some reason had these metallic glasses that seemed like they were coming out of the inside of his ears. I brush it off as being high from weed I’m not used to. As l sit down at the bench I hear music. It sounded like marimba music coming from the oscillator. I switch the machine on and it shows these green worms dancing to the marimba music that was playing. They would sway back and forth like they were girating and dancing the kwasa-kwasa. I take out my circuit board and start putting together my electronics. As I start soldering my electronics together one of the Honours students monitoring the class walks past me and says, “Buddy, are you okay?” It seems I didn’t take out my circuit board, it was my phone I had been soldering.
I decide that the weed is way too strong and I need to make an exit quick so back to my crib I went.
I get to my block of flats and I’m struggling to open the main gate. After a couple of minutes I realise I’ve been trying to open the gate with a damn fork! “Why is this happening to me?” I ask myself. I manage to get into the flat after what seemed like eternity. Jerry’s girlfriend is sitting on the couch. She has what can only be described as shit-locks. Her dreadlocks were a half-arsed attempt at ‘bongo’ dreads and made her look like the black Medusa. “Hi Sipz,” she says with her deep-ass voice, “how about some grass.” Did she just offer me some grass extract or something? “No, thanks. I don’t drink healthy shit.” She looked at me like I had snort on my face. “I said how was class!” “Oh, class! It was fine. I had to leave early because I’m not feeling well.” That’s what I thought I told her, but apparently I said, “oh, class. It was fine. I had to leave because of rising sea levels.”
I head to the kitchen, where I then discovered I have motor skills problems. Our kitchen was made of a slippery substance that made it difficult to walk and I started to slide to go across the room. I put a pan on the stove to make some eggs. Poured some oil in the pan, slid to the fridge to get the eggs and back to the stove. I made the worst mess with the eggs. There was a particular motion I made when I broke the egg, I would, in one synchronized motion, slide my feet apart into a semi split, break the egg and then as I attempted to pour its content into the pan I would slide back up. When I broke an egg it was like I had hit its shell with Thor’s hammer… egg shells were all over the stove, my hands had egg whites all over it and the rest of the egg was anywhere but inside the pan. It later occurred to me that when I wanted to break the egg I used the side of the pan but did the job so badly that the egg got crushed on the side of the pan and none of it would go into the pan.
I decided maybe I should abandon that plan and go get something from the garage across the road. As I walked out I told Jerry’s girl, “I will make amends with the unborn on my return from my journey.” Shit made perfect sense at that time but I don’t think that’s how people speak in normal, intelligible, speech.
At the garage I decide on the trusted garage pie. Nothing should go wrong with this one. I pick out two pies because, well, munchies bru! At the till the lady scans them and then looks at me. “How rude!” I thought. “Terrible customer service not to tell someone how much and just look at them!” I then start going through my pockets looking for my wallet. Shit! Shit! Having walked all this way I better have not forgot it. I pat my pants pockets, my shirt pocket and my jacked pockets. Damn! “Eish, sorry mama.” I start to walk out of the shop and then she yells, “hey wena! Are you going to leave your wallet and pies on the counter or are you going to pay and leave!” I glance to the counter and there it is, sitting pretty with money in it. It seems I’m in the forgetful stage.
I pay and hurry my ass up back to the crib to find that Jerry has arrived. “Sipz mfethu, what happened to the stove? O tsubile tse feng today?” I flashed a smile and went to the kitchen, slide to the fridge for a coke, and then back to my room. It’s smack down time! I murdered that those pies and that coke! I had crumbs all over my study desk and PC. I sat there for a few more minutes just enjoying that moment, but then I felt hungry again. Damn munchies!