Hear From The Horse’s Mouth… & I’m Out!

Longer, Harder

The first time I took weed, my dad gave it to me.

*hits blunt* *hits blunt*

I walked into the compound and there he was sitting on the brown chairs in front of our house.

In his hand was a piece of paper with premium high grade weed in it.

He motioned to me wordlessly to come over.

See, I don’t claim to be spiritual and all but I know an epochal moment when I see one.

I approached him wordlessly.

He passed the open, crumpled sheet of paper to me and said ‘Wetin be this?’.

I sniffed, I sniffed again. I placed some grains and dried leaves between my hands, tasted it and proclaimed in a low, sober voice, ‘Igbo’.

‘Na wetin I see for inside the bus. That’s what the driver has been taking. No wonder he doesn’t bring complete money again’.

I just shook my head.

Later that evening…

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