They’re Higher Than Kites; These Comrades of Mine

My comrades are on drugs. They’re hopped up on ecstasy, hyped by Bluemoon Vodka, topped up on Cannabis Sativa, puffing on sheesha and acting like a bunch of marauding dim-wits on a midterm break from the Mathare Institute of the Insanely Profane. It’s disgraceful and makes me really furious.
You may want to know why am concerned, and I’ll tell you. According to my own uncorroborated research, these campus half-wits are already dangerously low on the brain cell count. Why they’d embark on a mission to fry the remaining few brain cells by taking drugs is a question not even Mutahi Ngunyi is in a position to answer.
Those of a certain age would recall that in the halcyon days, when decency prevailed, comrades only enjoyed a few tipples at the student center to cut loose after a laborious week. Beer was sacrosanct, and a drink was never imbibed on Monday afternoons. Juxtapose this with what is currently the case at my campus. Students are ever drinking; you’d think they are canvassing for their livers to be named employees of the month. They even drink in-between the lectures! For the skint, cheap spirits are the poisons of choice. I haven’t had a chance to taste Satan’s urine, but I am sure it tastes better than these fatal concoctions that are imbibed by my comrades in the name of enjoyment. Enjoyment my foot!
If you host a party in campus and marijuana does not make an attendance, have you really thrown a party? Bhang is to campus jamborees what laptops are to babies nowadays. And unlike in the past when people used to smoke it like chimneys, it is now consumed more discreetly in birthday cakes and cookies. Everyone appears calm, shy and reserved at the beginning of house-parties. But as soon as the birthday cake is cut and passed around to unsuspecting guests, the most asinine and vile revelry unfolds on the floor. The madness that ensues is such that you would be forgiven for thinking you’re at an asylum. Elite bong-toting dope fiends go ahead crown it all by inhaling flavoured sheesha.
A word of advice: If you enter a room and find all its occupants are glassy-eyed and grinning like Cheshire cats for no reason, kindly bolt the door behind you and run faster than Semenya. Chances are that those guys have just popped some ecstasy pills, a trend that’s really catching on. Girls, beware of date rape by being extra cautions with your drinks, as odds are it might be spiked with Rohypnol enough to bring down an African bush elephant.
Why would one intoxicate himself silly to a point whereby he sees no ill in taking a nap along a flyover? There excuse is that they take drugs in order to escape. My million dollar question is; Escape from what? The fact that you converted a six figure HELB loan to vodka in one weekend? Escape from the fact that you forgot to swallow morning after pills last month? Oh, please! Spare me the malarkey!
They’re higher than kites, these comrades of mine. Booze is their wine, weed cookies are their sacraments, and the peddler is their priest. All in all, Inebriation is their religion.

I would never have written this post without steadfast support from my friends Lameck Orina and Christine. Thank you guys!

Lukorito Jones

Lukorito Jones is a columnist and correspondent with Kenya's leading newspaper, Daily Nation. He also dabbles in fiction works at times, hoping to be the next Stephen King. Sometimes he takes time out from writing to perfect his deer-dancing and goat-screaming skills.

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