KUSH-GHETTO part 1

I like to see myself as strong willed; to some extent I think. When I take up a challenge, until the point where I get bored, I am literally unstoppable. I had started drinking alcohol a year earlier but that day, I wanted to know what being drunk really felt like. Gathered a few friends for moral support and of course, medical support too if anything was to go wrong. ‘’Downed’’ two 42% ’kin-kin’ as it is locally called. Till this very day, I don’t think I have actually gotten to the state I imagined in intoxication with alcohol. Got extra confident and said some awful ‘happy’ stuff here and there but haven’t really gotten to my limit yet. There is still vomiting, passing out and even loss of memory about the happenings at the time of intoxication I haven’t experienced. I was going to experience all that until I got bored.

Kush, ‘ghetto’, ‘rizler’, ‘sorji’ (soldier), ‘kpomkpom’ (police), ‘ tie’, ‘wrap’ are only but a few words/slangs associated with weed smoking/smokers. With my drinking escapade now done with, I developed a new urge....’weed’. I had been nursing the idea of experiencing for myself what the effect of weed would be like for awhile. Spoke with a few friends who ‘take the stuff’ what their first experience was like. Their response only made my crave stronger: ‘’I sincerely saw stars’’, “happiness...one could have slapped me then and I would just smile in return”. How could some dried plant give this much peace of mind I thought. I have got to try some.

Like I always do when these crazy ideas get into my head, I called a buddy who could make some weed available and afterwards, contact some other buddies. It was shocking how much joy it brought them to know that I wanted ‘to weed’. It’s almost the same feeling heaven has when a sinner repents (ironically speaking). The smoke emitted from one tie of kpo (kush/weed) is so powerful that it could nullify the scent of an air freshener in a room and stay for days. So, as rule number one, you do not smoke weed in your place of residence. We arrived and assembled in a ghetto later that day. A ghetto is any abandoned or uncompleted building that unites weed smokers even in their diversities. On arrival, there were already about three other persons there smoking. Their presence put me in a very un-easy position and soon, I lost the desire to weed. We entered the ghetto and very warm greetings were exchanged. It was as family indeed. Minute after minute, other ‘weeders’ arrived. There was only one girl in attendance. A typical ghetto has broken blocks laying around, building planks, empty bottles of alcoholic drinks, empty bottles of codeine, lots of paper, rizlers, remains of already smoked cigarettes and weed, lighters and match boxes.

I watched with so much amazement as they drew in and blew the smoke out their mouth and nostrils, prepared their ‘ties’, and at the shocking rate at which weed has become so popular in our generation. I doubt there was anybody present who was older than 23years of age. The girl looked about 19 years of age. I carefully watched how they made a tie and had the opportunity of making one. I was commended for how good it was even as a first timer. I was offered countless times ties of kush to smoke because it didn’t make sense that I was there just watching. Soon, they started leaving. My guess is, my non participation put them in an un-easy position

All through the hours spent in the ghetto, one thing that kept on popping all over the place in overflow was LOVE. They say the one thing that bring people together even in their diversity is football. Today, I stand to edit that statement. Football and weed are the two strongest binders the world has ever known. In fact, I feel strongly that weed binds more. There is just something about the joy in the eyes of a weed smoker when he sees another person who smokes weed. In the ghetto, class means nothing to nobody. Neither does educational background nor financial or ethnic differences means anything to anybody. They are all one. The only thing that belongs to anybody in the ghetto is your clothes, wallet and personal belongings. Lighter, matches, kush, rizler, all belonged to everybody. Call me sick but, it is a place to be.

 I didn’t kush today maybe because I do not have the guts to yet. Maybe I am not even ready, I really do not know but what I sure know is that this new found crave, I am certainly not bored of just yet. I still may never smoke one, who knows?  but I am certain I want to be in the midst of the love I felt today again. It’s a world, it’s a family, It’s the kush-ghetto.