MEET FREAKING FASIU AGAIN
There he was, in blood, flesh and spirit… what was Fasiu doing here? He was the last person I needed to see. I quickly called Malik to the kitchen to find out what was happening. Fasiu was either running from National drug law enforcers or supplying drugs; if the latter was the case then I was definitely in the wrong place.
I politely asked “bro! What is Fasiu doing here?”
Malik – “what are you saying bro?”
Me – “I said what is man like Fasiu doing here?“
Malik bursts out laughing hard? I was lost about whatever was happening, there was nothing funny about that.
After a minute of laughing uncontrollably, he finally spoke out.
“You crack me up bro? Why did you call him that? His name is Samson. He is a great guy, Trust me.”
He walked back to the sitting room; I remained in the kitchen more confused than ever. Was I being paranoid or this shit was going south before my eyes? The weed was nowhere in sight either, it felt like I was chasing shadows.
I joined them in the sitting room shortly. I’d not seen Fasiu in a few years. Talking to him was not something I looked forward to. I broke the ice by starting a conversation.
I said to him “what’s up G”
He threw the thumbs up right back at me; Fasiu was out here acting brand new. He sat right there with his legs spread out on the couch, I could tell he was not a visitor. I was not going to stress myself thinking about how Fasiu’s name changed to Samson.
You know how they say the best things in life come after the worst situations, I thought to myself. What if these were little obstacles thrown at me to distract me from the grand goal of getting high. While I sat there thinking about everything that could go wrong. Malik threw a little bag of weed on the table.
Finally!! I was excited and nervous at the same time, I thought of all the random people I knew that smoked weed and were very alive, I was just paranoid for this one single reason.
I remember having a mentally unstable man in the neighborhood I was raised; he ate boiled groundnuts with its shell, and sugarcane with the hard bark. He was referred to as the “street mad man”, I once asked my uncle why he acted differently. He told me that the man got super high one day and he just never came down.
That made no sense to me at that point, but somehow that story keeps refreshing in my head. Like what if I got high and I just never returned to a sane state of mind? What if I end up fucking high for the rest of my life? Those were some of the few things that had me paranoid. The goal was to get high in the right proportion (if that makes any sense).
After rolling deep in my thoughts, I returned to reality and to the sight of the weed on the table. It was well packaged in little transparent bags. Malik brought out his infamous red tool bag. Everything was falling in place. Malik tossed the rolling papers to me and motioned for me to roll up.
He was certainly going crazy; this was going to be the final straw. I was here for a reason and he was moving mad. I was going to call him out on his bullshit but I kept it calm and coordinated. I reckoned I was getting out of character; I needed to be humble, so I don’t blow my cover.
I watched them start the rolling process. He poured out a handful of weed in a little fancy grinder while man like Fasiu just rubbed the weed against his palm for reasons best known to him. I watched him closely in utter disbelief, he had a grinder right before him but he preferred using his bare palm.
Even more surprising that Malik believed his name was Samson. How can you call Fasiu “Samson”? I was cracking up deep within but I had bigger fish to fry. I watched them roll one blunt each, we had two fat ass blunts sitting comfortably on the coffee table; the problem was that they kept on rolling; I was done staying in character. I confronted Malik.
“Yo! Are we expecting anyone bro”
Malik – “none that I know of. Maybe later on”
Me – “oh! That’s fine”
Malik – “you good?”
Me – laughs hysterically “I’m great G, just asking”
I figured I was approaching the problem the wrong way, I had a goal, I was trying to get from point A to point B, every obstacle was going to be treated as an obstacle, self discipline was the only way out. I needed to take control of the destiny of my high.
I set a reminder on my phone with an alarm to go off every thirty minutes. A bold font was going to pop up on my phone every thirty minutes, which read. “A few puffs and we are out”. That way, it does not matter how many blunts those junkies were rolling, all I was going to have were a few puffs.
PUFF — PUFF –PASS
Finally, the moment I’d anticipated for so long, they looked like Egyptian pyramids: same contents, stacked side by side but independent of each other. Fasiu did the bird man hand rub right after rolling up the last blunt. The jig was up, time to get it done.
Malik and Fasiu stood up and walked out, I sat there watching music videos on MTV base.
Not long after Malik returned to raise his voice at me “What are you doing mahn, lets go?”
I was totally lost, I retorted “go where bro?”
“Just follow me”, he begun walking out of my presence like we had an understanding, I was going to pull him by the shirt and demand a proper explanation, I was tired of the surprises. My day was unfolding like the plot of a Tarantino film. I remembered to stick to my own plot and grand scheme. I tailed behind him towards the guesthouse.
Malik took me to a room which used to be an old music studio. His late dad belonged to a band in the 80’s, he was one of the pioneers of left wing movements that used music to challenge the policies of the then military government.
It had paintings and sculptures spanning from the windows to the ceilings, hard oak wood drums and classic music instruments spread across the room. Malik had converted that room to a smoke room; I spotted cigarette butts and rolling papers littered all over the place.
I knew Malik was on some next level shit but I never knew he sold his soul to the world. That was a place you will consider sacred, it had a museum feel to it. I sat still in awe just looking at the antique stuff housed by it. I tried touching an old guitar pinned against the wall when Malik snapped.
“You can’t touch anything bro”
I quickly apologized. He said it was fine, only that they made sure to not mess with the tuning of the guitars out of respect for his late dad.
Fasiu nodded in approval of the depth of what Malik just said. I found it rather hypocritical; I mean they had codeine bottles stacked side to side like trophies on the piano. The room was totally infiltrated with all sorts of shit. Having Fasiu in that room was enough damage. I let it all slide. My alarm went off “A FEW PUFFS AND WE OUT”
That was my wake up call; time to focus on the job. Fasiu was the first to light up a blunt; I watched him break the puff-puff pass sequence. Malik did not seem to be concerned; instead he reached for a blunt and lit one up for himself. He seemed to be comfortable with the blunt in his hand like a ball pen. I was positive he was not going to pass it.
I sat there wondering what the hell was happening, nobody was passing the blunt. No bloody way I was going to spark up a whole ass blunt for myself.
While I contemplated on what to do next, we heard a hard knock on the door. Fasiu quickly jumped behind the large set of drums, Malik was on some next level stealth mode, we all stood still. He tip toed towards the door to peep, we all had to stay still for a whole ass ten minutes.
I gave them a few minutes to figure out what the next step was; Fasiu took out a card of drug tablets from his breast pocket. He popped two tablets and dropped the rest of it on the center table. Malik followed up, he popped three tablets out of it. I watched them closely. I paid no attention to whatever that was, I did my research on weed and that was all I knew. My alarm went off again. “A FEW PUFFS AND WE ARE OUT”
I was done playing, I had nothing to fear, I was going to have two puffs and then I’ll be out of the company of these drugged out children of the world.
I’d gone past the threshold of how much shit I could take; I was ready to grab the bull by the horn. I reached for a blunt like a drug cartel front-runner; I held it between my thumb and index finger like a damn pro. A quick roll on the spark wheel of the lighter changed everything.
In that moment I felt accomplished. Nothing else mattered, I paid no attention to Malik and Fasiu. My first puff was more like an introduction that did not count. I gave it a second shot without coughing; I expected that to happen. I had only played around with the smoke.
I felt nothing. I was not sure about how I felt, three more puffs and I finally had this loud and hard cough. It went on for a while; Malik and Fasiu had their eyes on me. I was super excited about coughing. That was victory right there.
My alarm went off in a moment. I killed the heat on the blunt while tucking it under the chair. I was done smoking. That was it.
I was in the worst place, feeling disenchanted and disconnected. Time flew past us while we sat there doing nothing, and this time it was 9pm. I was as sober as a nun. I felt nothing whatsoever, smoking weed had to be the most overrated shit ever.
To make it worse, Malik and Fasiu seemed to be fucked up beyond words. Fasiu sat there wearing his fake ass Roy Bin aviator shades. He was still yet to utter a single word.
Malik on the other hand seemed to be having a go at someone over the phone; he kept declining a call. I asked him if everything was good, he insisted everything was fine.
After an hour and I still felt nothing, I reached for the rest of the blunt; I hit it back to back, dragging in as much smoke as humanly possible. I still felt nothing. Everyone else seemed to be in a distant land, neither of the boys said anything, graveyard silence.
I followed up on whatever they had going on, I took off my shoes, unbuckled my belt and sunk into the old studio couch. My alarm went off again, I was fed up of the reminders. I had it under control. I disabled it and let everything flow naturally.
That was the worst mistake I made, I unlocked a different realm in that moment, I laid back there searching for my high, why was I not getting high, if anything I felt sleepy, why on earth was I not high. So many conspiracy theories ran through my mind.
“I began questioning everything. Why was I not high? What’s wrong? I figured I was thinking beyond the ordinary. What If Fasiu purposely did some shit to my weed, what if I was only smoking tobacco, what if I was in some dream and this shit was not really happening, what if this was a video game and I was only a character or a little Muppet for a weed reality show.
With every deep thought something else revealed itself, it was a downward spiral, it was at that point I realized I MIGHT JUST BE AS HIGH AS A FUCKING KITE.”
Oh my days! There was no probability there, I was actually high, I opened my eyes and it seemed I had a better vision with my eyes closed. I toggled between having my eyes closed and open for a few minutes. It seemed to be pretty much the same thing. The cannabis emergency website said nothing about vision impairment. I SCREAMED!!
What was happening, how can weed mess with my vision. I was not seeing shit, I placed my hands over my face, I felt everything, this was happening in real time. I was fully conscious and legally blind, even more troubling that nobody responded.
I sat there trembling and wrecked in fear, I heard heavy pouncing sounds from a distance, it felt like my mind was split in three ways, and what I thought of as my present was racing simultaneously in various directions. My mouth felt dry and with every entry of oxygen I felt a warm and dry air go through my lungs.
I called out to Malik, nobody responded. I was getting paranoid. Why was I not seeing shit? I screamed his name again.
“ Malik! Malik!! Can you not be a bastard?”
I yelled in anguish, it was not getting any funnier. I could barely feel my face, what on earth was happening.
I noticed a lighter go off on the other side of the room. In the space of a few seconds I saw something.
Fasiu finally said something, he said
“Brother, shut up!”
He wailed at me again. “I said shut up your dirty mouth my guy”
I sat still scared and trembling. He kept shouting, “Shut the fuck up”
I never uttered a word, why was he having a go at me? What sort of mess did I get myself into; Fasiu was a rogue and my greatest fear as far as getting high goes.
I heard footsteps approaching from a distance; there was a very hard knock on the door. It sounded familiar. It had to be the same person that knocked earlier. The knocking sounds faded shortly as it was trounced by loud engine sounds, my mind wandered even further. I saw myself trapped in a Nazi camp with Fasiu and Malik. Someone was crying in that dark room.
Everything was cramming up in my head; my stomach was churning. What on earth was happening? The torture of not knowing what the hell was happening crushed me. I was extra sensitive to every sound. The knocking went on. I was positive someone was crying in that room and the loud heavy machine sound loomed over me. I closed my eyes and I let myself go. It was a dead end.
We heard a heavy bang on the door, which revealed the brightest light I’d seen in all my life, a feminine silhouette stood against the door frame, someone was shouting Malik’s name. Fasiu was shouting at Malik as well. I screamed on realizing I was not blind after all, two other people rushed into the room looking troubled. The only person I knew there was Malik’s mum. They all rushed to his side. I followed them.
My heart almost stopped beating on seeing Malik, he laid there on the floor as cold as ice with a wet blunt stuck in his mouth. What the fuck was happening? Malik was not conscious; his mum was slapping him on all sides of the face. I looked around in search of Fasiu. He was nowhere to be found. I sobered up in that moment.
I carried him to the back seat of his Mum’s car, I was told to drive as fast as I could to the nearest hospital. There I was holding fast to the steering, moving at 140km/hr. many things ran through my mind. I feared for his life and mine.
THE REAL END
Long story short and final spoilers. My first experience with weed was a real adventure. Malik gave me the visuals for everything I feared could happen to me.
I drove to the hospital with all shades of mixed feelings. Do you wonder who kept knocking? How did they know we had a problem? I figured that out on my way to the hospital.
Malik seemed to be in a heated argument with someone over the phone while we smoked. I asked him if everything was fine, he asserted it was all good.
The Person who kept knocking was a lady I wish I never knew. It was Tara (My ex), Malik was trying to avoid me finding out they had a thing. So he lied to her about his location.
Tara figured out he was home and she kept knocking. I drove to the hospital with a broken heart while Tara sat on the passenger’s seat singing “I can explain”. That’s a story for another day.
Let’s talk about going blind in that room, I always had my vision. There was a power outage and my paranoid ass thought I was blind and trapped in a dark Nazi camp. The heavy machine sounds came from the generator.
We never heard from Fasiu or “Samson” again. Malik’s disloyal ass survived, what he had was a seizure. I call it a perspiration ting. That happens when you abuse drugs.
Thank you for reading.
ABOUT THE WRITER
Martins Noel is a freelance writer and content creator. He is a student of life who finds pleasure in creating imaginary situations, conflicts and resolutions. Currently, he is a master’s student of the Creative Industries at Macquarie University, Australia while being a fancy ranconteur.
He has covered sports, entertainment and business columns for Business Day newspaper and Off Duty magazine. Occasionally he publishes think pieces and reflective memoirs on Medium. An all round sweet boy plus selective bad boy. Give him some music and wine and you have the way to his heart. Follow him on Twitter @martinsnoel1 to catch some of his threads and hilarious tweets.