“You were using bhang and opium, and when the security knocked at the door you refused to open”
I look at Marto,the the security guy (lets call him Mr.K) continues to Rumble ,”Najua mnatumia madawa ya kulevia,naongea na nyinyi kama mzazi,niko na watoto,kwanza ule wa mwisho ni wa 1985,mzee ata zaidi yenu”
Marto begins getting defensive,”mimi ata pombe situmii”, Mr.K snaps “Mnafikiria sijui” “Mkubwa ata opium sijawai ona!”
I manage to mumble. “Itikieni, the campus will offer you counseling ata kuna mwingine wa cocaine anatibiwa” He picks up the phone calling the dean of students to drive his point home,” Dean, ule kijana wa cocaine anaendelea aje………….”
How did we get here you may ask! Let me take you 2 weeks down memory lane
It’s a new semester, actually a new academic year ,third year ,Just after reporting back to campus me and Marto decided to throw a bash, a house warming bash actually since we are now living in our own house –servant quarters actually-with house mates not some lousy hostel with a hundred an one neighbors.
Well the troops are quickly rallied and by the troops I mean The Crew, plans are put in motion.
The plot:20 liters of Bangara –Bangara is like some tribal booze that coastal people drink, similar to Mnazi -Smirnoff blue label, red label, K.K. and of course Jamaican brand riffa.
Crowd: strictly jammas, no chics no gatecrashers.
So duties are quickly delegated, the Mnazi suppliers, the real alcohol suppliers, the weed and finally the K.K. (Kenya king). No mention of who was to supply what will be made here for fear of the snitches-yes JKUAT has trained snitches.
At around 1pm the Mnazi crew leaves the campus, promptly followed by the weed crew. Am still at campo when they come back heaving, apparently carrying 20 liters is no small fit.
What we were later to find out is that campus security was hot on their heels. Apparently they think petrol is being smuggled into campus, a strike maybe!
After evasion tactics around school, the Mnazi is safe and sound, in a cool dry place. We can rest easy.
“Niaje gauge imefika” Mogaka asks “iko salama, blue label niaje?”I inquire “njiani boss,twajaa”
Adrenalin rush! Can’t wait to get high…but first I head for the mess because it’s now heading 6:00pm.
Ugali, beef and Veg later am back to the crib: Time to freshen up.
At around 7.30 everyone gathers at our crib, (for some reason c9-02 is the favored location for its proximity to where the Mnazi has been stashed)
Cups are handed out and the merry making commences. Stories are traded some of which am sure are fake, like the one Mogaka is telling us about……..I’ll tell you the story another day.
“Leta Ngwai hi pombe haipandi,mlitoa wapi?” people want to get stoned.
The contra bun is produced, the doors locked, windows to, match box in hand the first joint is lit. puff!puff! pass is the rule.
The second joint, Puff Puff pass…. Third, the laughter kicks in, veins are vesodilated, eyes are popping out. Fourth joint…..knock! Knock!
We ignore The knock turns into a bang and some words are mumbled…..
I don’t remember who opened the door but the next thing I saw was 4 guys wearing menacing faces storming in. If this was a movie am guessing this would be the climax, the part where the sound track is some fast paced tune…..
“Nani mwenye hii nyumba?” I look at Marto, “mimi” he retorts.
“Una ishi na nani?” ,“mimi’’ I reply
“tokeni nje” now you would expect the guys in the house would cook up some plot to have the security jamaas go au contraire mon ami, quite the contrary. Someone grabs the bottle in my hand as I walk out an mumbles something I cannot understand, what with the adrenalin rush am experiencing
“Mna fanya nini huko ndani?”
“ka party kadogo,ata hatu pigi kelele, na 10pm bado” I somehow mange to say.
“sigara” Marto jumps in
“leteni ID zenu twende tukaandike statment”
Marto begins to pleed, I swear I have lived with Marto but I have never had him beg like this “Tafathali boss!Tafathali boss! ”
“Okay kama mme kataa sawa….msipige kelele mingi basi” They leave and we assume that’s the end of that!
Back in the crib guys is still drinking, the contra bun has however been discretely hidden. A couple of shots later the story has completely been forgotten and we drink the night away till the wee hours of the morning when we finally retire to bed.
A day passes, 2 days 5 days a week and we have not heard anything from the campus security. We assume the water has passed under the bridge.
We curry on with our lives like it never happened.
Till 2 weeks later we get a call from the security office
“Are you Martin? Please report to the security office”, “okay”
Next to ring was my phone, same conversation same response.
So here we sit, allegations of how we use opium being thrown at us. How we are suspected of being crack addicts and mandatory counseling is the only thing that will save us.
We somehow managed to convince the security boss that our drug use was fictional, evidence to implicate us being absent. We were lucky, the case is dropped for lack of evidence and akajaymo and his partner in crime live to see another semester.