Thread by @ItsUncleStephen

“...Yes we love smoking weed” Progress responded before I could say a word.

I looked at him, and he at me, as if to say “baba calm down”

To cement his words, he took it, puffed and passed to me.

I took a drag and I knew, damn! Wahala have get me

Brethren,
Issa thread..

I was in Ajegunle.

I had gone to my Aunt’s place during the school holidays. Dà Chioma, my Aunt, would do you well when returning to school if you helped out at her bar.

Sometimes I was unofficial DJ, sometimes I served drinks.

I generally helped out, however I could.

Her Bar at Second Mosholashi attracted all sorts.

From the Rasta who could speak patois better than Jamaicans even though he had never left AJ. To the Old soldier never die, who fought for the queen in Burma.

Her bar brewed with stories and my ears drank to its fill

Sometimes a crew of babes would come on a girls night out, downing their preferred lager, as helpmeet for my Aunty’s amazing peppered meat.

It was one of those nights, and I had the luck of the draw of serving them, beautiful women alladem, who flirted with me incessantly

My Aunty’s eagle eye, prevented any of myself or my cousins from flirting while on duty.

“Tuck in your libido. E don Dey show. Comot am for my market” she would say if she noticed any untoward behavior.

And if it didn’t cease, you’ll be sure to get a spanking.

I didn’t want a spanking, cos my aunty na “strong meat” as they say in AJ.

After doing bar business for over 15 years, encountering several characters, she epitomized “who do anyhow go see anyhow” and “who wan collect, go chop am”

She wasn’t to be joked with

So I kept my mien professional and flirted just borderline as the babes teased and teased me.

One of them was particularly interested especially as I be fresh meat for area.

It wasn’t hard to notice I didn’t live in AJ. According to them, my pidgin English no “done” well

The babes chilled for some hours, danced, as alcohol freed their waist lines, adding to its deftness, and eventually paid their bills to leave.

My person of interest, all the while had her eyes on me.

I thought they had left, only for her to return to give a tip, then left.

I opened the N200 note that had been pressed into my hands and in it, lay a paper, blessed with her number.

Ah! Omo re bi Custard!

I saved the number, texted her ASAP because no one knows tomorrow.

She replied instantly and I felt a tingling somewhere🌚🌚🌚

If you know AJ very well, there’s always a party, always a groove, almost as if stuck living with the sometimes grim realities of the area, they took every chance to celebrate surviving one more day.

Tejiri A.K.A TBarbie as her friends called her, invited me for one

I found an excuse to give my aunt and slipped out for the hot afternoon party.

It was holding at a lounge on Baale Street.

Two streets before the venue, a young man,dressed in carrot jeans and a white polo,with darting eyes and a bag slung across his frame, approached me.

“How far, shey na the chicken feather you want?” He said in a slightly gruff voice.

I looked at him like, Chicken feather ke.

He continued. “Shey Na chick, broiler or layer feather you want?”

Curiosity got the better part of me.

Surveying the surrounding, nothing here lended itself to even considering there would be a poultry close by.

This manner of marketing chicken was definitely something I wanted to be privy of. And if it was a slang, I liked it. I’m all for growing our agro-economy.

Impressive

I requested for a broiler feather please. (Gutsy right?!)

Well, As Pete Edochie said in Avengers Endgame, either you go hard or go home.

“Ah baba! Broiler no Dey here. Come make we enter zanga. E bokun for there”

I followed him through some winding paths to the zanga

Brethren! It was the home of weed. To be honest, I Was disappointed. I really thought I had lighted on a chicken vendor and would see his farm. 🌚🌚☺️☺️

Oh well, I stood outside bought a broiler sized weed and threw it away as I headed back for the party. Need to maintain focus

TBarbie was at the gate to welcome me, I lingered in the hug of her perky breast as I peered over her shoulder to her equally proportionate behind. She smelt nice.

Inside, I met the rest of her crew GOD (girls of destiny).

That name disturbed me but I was like if I die I die.

I had barely settled into doing immoral things to the peppered chicken TBarbie had given me, as I escorted it with cold Guinness, when I heard a familiar voice.

“Stevhoe! Stevodadida Stevobabestetraoxo3acid! Stevopaparampam stevopoporompom”

Oh no! It is him!

Progress.

Progress was there, he walked towards me, cackling while I wondered how on earth did he get there. He was supposed to be at his parent’s somewhere in Obalende or so.

“Stevolosho! I just know say I go see you here. My spirit no Dey lie”

Which spirit.

Apparently one of the G.O.D girls had invited him and she was even TBarbie’s cousin.

And before I knew it, we became grouped when the babes found out that I and Progress where very good friends. Sweet coincidence as far as they were concerned.

But I was wary. Why? Progress

It was almost evening and in a few, I relaxed myself, enjoying the party and gist with the babes, believing that in no way will progress’ “unfortunateness” come to play today.

But I relaxed too soon.

They suggested we move venues to add more fire to the night’s “litness”

TBarbie and her cousin said in the most casual way “we wan enter Zanga. Make we just shine eye”

Zanga? Same Zanga? The weed palace? To shine eyes? I wanted to mention that I’d been there earlier and on the contrary it seemed it was the go to place to dim eyes. See false advert o

“Fine boys. Una no Dey kiss Na. Abi? So Una no go follow us Na”

This was a trick question. Cos woe betide me if I cannot kiss. I love kissing but not this kind of kissing. I’d somehow found myself in a kissing quandary

Progress answered for us:

WE ARE KISSERS!

And with that we arrived THE ZANGA.

Brethren, it was nothing like I’d ever seen before. There was literally a weed cloud hanging in the air. Just crossing the door and you were already high.

Different characters dotted the place, all in different states of solemnity

The G.O.D girls were at ease and after sitting us down, went round exchanging greetings as regulars do.

I spotted the poultry expert from earlier in the day, at a corner, rearing new broilers and layers, stuffing them into his bag when done.

The babes returned with a layer.

They were still unconvinced as to whether we were really going to kiss with them

They had puffed and passed between them, when progress declared our love for weed, puffed twice, and passed to me.

I puffed twice to show them that kissing comes naturally to me, in whatever form🌚

Weed like alcohol has different effects for people. For me that day, first, everything had a deeper meaning.

It wasn’t just a calendar hanging on the wall but a reminder of our time here on earth and using it to impact the world.

I felt everything differently

Even more after the 3rd kiss. The weight of the world was on my shoulder.

A tear hung at the corner of my eye, as for some reason I remembered the starving children in Somalia.

Their pain became my pain, their wailing voices echoing in my head.
In summary, be like I wan mad

At that point, redemption song by Bob Marley rent the air and I could feel the song in my red blood cells. Every instrumental, every word he sang

“Won’t you help to sing. This song of freedom” he sang

And I really wanted to help sing. Really wanted to

I was still stuck in cloud whatever wondering like bob Marley, how long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look, that I didn’t hear someone scream “eke! eke!” Before pandemonium ensued.

People ran helter shelter while I ran straight into the arms of policemen

Once a policeman hooks your trouser, forget it. You go nowhere. I tried to struggle when slap hit me “Taiiii!!!!” Clearing like two kisses of the weed I had taken, bringing me down from whatever cloud I was and planting me firmly on solid ground.

Shet!! It was hot

4 more random slaps hit the back of my head and back, as the policeman was like “fine butty like you, you sef dey kiss”

But since when is kissing a crime
Another slap reminded me of the kissing that was being talked about.

Before I could count 2 I don dey inside bus.

Inside the bus, with 2 other unfortunate people, none of which was Progress or even the G.O.D girls, (I’m guessing they used their godly power and disappeared) more slaps kissed my head.

“so you be king smoker” they kept saying.

Ah! King? I’m a servant o. Plis sir

A prayer point in this country should be to never have anything to do with a police station. Just know it’s there. Anything takes you in, much less inside cell, you’ll come out a changed person.

At the counter, they bundled the other guys straight into a cell

Me? For some reason I was asked to write statement while their slap hit my head repeatedly like “fine small boy so you wan spoil ehn”

Write statement?

For some reason only redemption songs lyrics was comimg to mind and I knew if I tried it my own would be done for

Statement written

I took off my shirt, trouser and was left with my goodluck boxers (don’t even say anything. Prior to that day every time I’ve worn it, it always ends in praise 🌚)

In no time, I was pushed into a cell with about 4 million people cramped in it

I’m not exaggerating. Nigerian cells are like whatever room you’re in, filled with 10 times it’s capacity.
In the cell, free in my mind from the wicked officers and their endless slaps, thunder landed on my face.

Tawau!!!!

“You mad? You no go hail capon?”
My eyes misted

When I received some semblance of clarity, I saw a guy sitting on one guy, flanked by two guys fanning him like a king.

Hian!

The stench of the cell felt like another slap as a mixture of sweat, faeces and tears almost brought me to my knees.

“I’m sorry” I said “ I no mean any disrespect”

The capon looked around and looking at me he said “Na me e stand up Dey follow talk”

“Angel” he shouted. “Sensitize this boy for me”

I’m an optimist.

Somewhere in my head I fully expected an orientation of sort till....

Two slaps hit me from an Angel who appeared unexpectedly. I dropped to my knees, fully sensitized.

“Mafi! give am isiewu and our welcome package”

The optimist in me nearly upped till I saw Mafi’s size. No way this guy can prepare isi ewu I can eat

Ah! Progress! I’m finished

He produced a cane. I received that and some slaps before they asked me how I got there.

I embellished the story leaving out the babes. When I mentioned my Aunty’s bar, capon said he knew her. “ he peppered meat Na die. And she dey play better jam. Oya dance for us”

You say?

I was confused. No way they could mean it. But they did.Two sensitization and DJ jimmy jatt was playing in my head.

See me rocking profusely to non existent sounds.

They were entertained and even asked me to change styles, any resistance or slacking, I get sensitized

For like 3 hours, I was grinding an imaginary TBarbie.

I did so many things that night. Frog jump, rode bicycle and fanned the capon for a bit.

I entered there slightly high but after the slaps and all I was doing, man I low like nothing

While I was fanning he shouted stop! And asked me to count from one to 1 million. I tried to protest my innocence and some more slaps hit my face.

I started counting. And it was almost as if the mosquitoes, spurred by my counting attacked non stop

My life was paining me

At the break of dawn, while I had counted up to 530k or so, I heard a policeman ask “who’s Stephen”
Hey God

I’ll never kiss again. Weed or women.

Please allow this cup pass me by

After he asked again, I said it was me and got taken to the counter where my aunt and Progress were waiting for me.

I could see her face. She was livid.
The police people had only agreed to let me go on the strength of her person “Ah! Mama! Na you o” they said repeatedly

In the bus ride home, my Aunty was quiet. Didn’t say a word to me and I dreaded what would come next.

We got home and when Progress was about to leave he said “but stevolosho! You na strong man o. So like this you don be ex convict. Your rep don high bro”

I was weak.....

Ps: My Aunty didn’t tell my parents anything and I realized later that I would have been released earlier but she wanted me to stay a bit and learn my lesson”

Which I did. Which is why till today I don’t kiss anything again. 🌚🌚

Praise the Lord.

Thanks for reading. Been a while I know.

Hope y’all enjoyed it.

It’s my birthday tomorrow the 27th April. Decided to give y’all a gift of laughter as much as I’ve gotten myself.

With Love,
Uncle Stephen

Want more humorous stories,

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https://twitter.com/itsunclestephen/status/947807141758369793?s=21