It's Koko, a close friend's birthday. King, another close friend of mine, and I are in Koko's mom's kitchen cooking fresh fish and unripe plantains for the birthday's guests, who are mostly our peers. We are all young men in our late teens and early twenties, with a greater number of us being university students.
The guests are mostly folks we fraternise with. But Koko, King, and I are the closest of friends, which is why he let us in his mom's kitchen while others are outside, drinking, bantering, and chattering, waiting for the food we are preparing to arrive.
Koko steps into the kitchen, wearing a serious look. King and I give him a look that says, "What's it?"
"My mom is back, and I'm not sure she'll appreciate seeing you guys in her kitchen." Koko says, looking oddly sad.
There is something off about his appearance. I could swear that the frown and sad look are all made up. But not wanting to give out my curious, inquisitive, and argumentative self to Koko's mom, Kingsley and I quietly step out without hesitating for a second.
We join our friends outside, who are all littered around—sitting, standing, or perching, occupying every available space, from the balcony of the bungalow's building to the not-too-large courtyard. They're in different subgroups—in twos, threes, fours, and so on.
Seamlessly, King and I blended into one of the groups. We join the boys to banter about football, music, girls, and whatnot.
Just as I lean my ears closer to listen to Deebo, one of the boys, as he starts explaining why he just can't let go of Clara, despite being mocked by fellow young men for being a simp, Koko walks towards me with a satisfying and somewhat mischievous grin. He whispers to my ears, "You guys can go back to the kitchen; I've spoken with mom."
"Didn't you tell your mom earlier on that you'd be having friends in her kitchen?" I reason within myself without saying it out loud.
I'm already known as a lover of arguments. So, I have to be careful not to call attention to myself, and thereby diverting people's attention from the main event. It's the least I can do to honour a good friend's birthday.
As I move, King quickly follows me back to the kitchen. We taste the food to be sure that the ingredients, including the spices, are well mixed.
"This tastes so good!" exclaimed King.
"Bro, didn't I tell you that I'm a good cook?" I boast.
"Master Chef," King taunts. We both let out a hearty laugh that reverberates through the whole kitchen.
King opens one of the cabinets that Koko earlier showed us. He brings out ceramic plates. I begin dishing on the plates, intermittently throwing some into my mouth. King does the same.
The food is taken to the guests, who wasted no time joyfully stuffing it into their mouths while still chattering.
Isaac, one of the boys known for his notoriety, asks in a loud voice, "Who cooked this food?"
"Mfoniso did," some of the boys say.
"I'm not sure; Mfoniso wouldn't do this." Isaac speaks again, smiling.
"Do what exactly?" Someone else asks from the crowd.
"King was in the kitchen with Mfoniso." Says another person.
"Maybe it's King. This food is spiked with marijuana." Isaac finally let out his observation.
I know that King isn't the one who spiked the food. I quickly look for Koko. Our gazes meet. I see that same familiar, mischievous grin he wore earlier on.
"So this is what all those odd demeanours were all about. Hmmm, so Koko deliberately sent us out of his mom's kitchen." I thought to myself.
Upon the revelation, you'll expect some people to stop eating or those yet to collect their portions to desist from doing so. But none of those happen. The innocent ones are influenced by their peers to keep gulping down food laced with psychedelics.
The dizzy feelings, the cooling sensation in my frontal lobe, the dimming of my eyeball, and the relaxation of my eyelids suddenly begin to make sense.
"I'm under the influence of marijuana." The realisation almost scares the life out of me. The once-plain ground suddenly becomes steep, resembling a staircase and a rapid escalator all at once.
One thing is sure: I have to get home without tripping down. If I trip down, my ego will be shattered. Carefully, I place one foot forward slowly before lifting the other.
I'm home. I'm aware of how dim my eyes are; I can't look my mom in the eye. I speak only a few words. I don't want mom to notice the sudden relaxedness and huskiness of my voice tone.
I pick up a few things and leave the house.
I will be staying with a friend till I figure out how to get over this influence.
The influence of friends and marijuana! What an interesting piece. I believe many of us have experienced youthful adventures that took unexpected turns, and we can laugh about them years later. In this particular case, Koko decided to make his birthday party 'special.' Fortunately, your family didn't notice you were high, or they might have been worried. I hope you won't let Koko into the kitchen with you again! 😄 Thanks for sharing. !LUV
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! help(no space) to get help on Hive. InfoKoko isn't particularly a villain. Generally, he's not a bad influence.
To date, he's one of my best friends.
I guess it was an adventure gone wrong.
Considering the kind of family I'm from, it was best that they didn't know.
Mum's beloved godly kid of a godly home being high?
Mari-what! 😂😂
Good to have you here.
Your friends’ were very forgiving. Koko was very lucky that the group of young men thought that it was a minor infraction to betray trust.
Your writing brims with potential and you’ve done a really good job of incorporating elements of creativity in your nonfiction. However, the reader would, probably, want to know it Koko faced any consequences.
Please remember to engage with the community by commenting on other stories. You have not engaged, if you would like greater curation support, you need to support in turn.
@theinkwell The thing is, everyone took as fun; at least they pretended to do so. We joked over it, and mocked those who couldn't withstand.
At that period, it was a norm to have such occurrence in young people's party. The only difference is that Koko wasn't popular for such acts.
The person who would've reported it to the police, would've been seen as the real betrayer.
I was going to engage,based on my schedule. And I just did.
Koko used your head, I guess, it is funny because you suspected him all along but couldn't figure it out because he was using his mother as a bait, lol
I am glad you were able to control yourself back home and your family didn't noticed anything unusual
I guess that was Koko's way of celebrating his birthday, he wanted to adventure which is in the mind of most of the teenagers today. But going behind your back to add some marijuana in the food you cooked is out of place, what if it was a poison? God forbid it! this shows how friends can do stuffs behind your back under your name.
Surviving as a teenager, who parties and fraternizes with other young adults, is quite risky.
As cool headed as I am, I've been in some awful situations and I'm only counting myself lucky to have gone through them unscathed.
Being a young Being a young adult is an extreme sports.
The moment you spoke about his off look earlier asking you both to leave the kitchen, I sensed as much. I would have carried my pot of food out😅 ‘I no trust you guy’.
Youths and their pranks. Thank goodness it wasn't life-threatening and your family didn't notice your demeanour.💕
Youthful pranks could be deadly sometimes.
But at that period, no one thinks, it's all counted for fun.
I mostly count myself lucky, because, boy! I've done some sh!t, when I was way younger.
Yeah! Thank goodness non backfired.😁
I finish reading your post and only one question comes to my mind: Which influence is more harmful: that of marijuana or that of those friends who behind your back can do things like this? Food for thought! Regards
Those of friends of course. That's quite thoughtful. Thanks for reading through.