Drugs on black background The back of the ammunition is located. Addiction to drugs will lead life into a bad way.
Recently, NTV run a series of stories about how drugs make their grand entrance into university life. It caught my attention mainly because for all the years I was on campus, I had not cracked that code myself. I was at MUBS, the Harvard of Enjoyments. Curiosity does not just kill cats, it writes whole movie scripts at campus and textbooks of experience.
I occasionally visited other hostels, discussion groups on one end, fellowships on another, cell meetings here, casual hangouts there and somehow, whatever the reason, all roads led to the same finish hotboxing and a casual drink or two… maybe seven, you know the drill. As a regular at Akamwesi Hostel, home to many legends, but none more famous than F1, the real-life Pablo Escobar of our time. If you know, you know.
It is practically a public secret. Campus is where you are expected to try anything. With a little more age, some newfound freedom, and barely any adult supervision, it is ‘only fair’ to find out why Mama and Papa spent your whole childhood warning you about some things. Experience, they say, is the best teacher. Although, I am pretty sure experience did not warn anyone about morning-after regrets and awkward eye contact with a stranger who turns out to be your lecturer. You listen to all the warnings, nod in affirmation and then do exactly the opposite.
Speaking of curiosity, has anyone ever paused to wonder why drugs were invented in the first place? I mean, were ancient scientists in their labs thinking, "How can we give someone wings?" We hear about how drugs are bad (disclaimer: they actually are). Maybe somewhere along the way, somebody invented weed thinking it would help with weight loss, or someone else brewed up something stronger because their mother-in-law or sneaky link is in town. Life happens. Not so many people talk about the how a few puffs or sniffs can facelift your confidence from a battered 2002 Prado to a shiny 2025 Prado TX – in that moment.
I am no devil’s advocate here, I just got curious enough to ask a few people about their first experience with drugs. Some said they felt on top of the world, others woke up hugging a dustbin. One guy was so convinced he was with Eminem in studio. University is a place of dreams and also the place where many dreams were left at the security desks. While the curiosity turned into an addiction for some, these are experiences of people that listened to their stronger sense and did not let the weed and pills win.
What was the fuss about? - Martha
Martha had her first puff at university. Weed. Having spent her entire school life tucked away in boarding schools, the closest she had ever come to smoke was in the kitchen at home and the countless Netflix series where everyone seems to be either lighting up casually or on a cigar. She had never so much as touched a cigarette, but after hearing that weed is basically just a plant, she figured, "How bad could it be?" And just like that, she found herself face-to-face with the green goddess for the very first time. It was nearing the end of semester finals and Martha was in a bad place.
She had just experienced her first proper heartbreak, the kind that turns everything into a blurred, teary mess. Concentrating on her studies was nearly impossible. Her roommate, already a seasoned stoner (weed user), decided to help by inviting Martha to join in a little smoke circle in their room.
Surrounded by five overly enthusiastic students, they all huddled around a very suspicious-looking joint that had clearly been rolled with more optimism than actual skill. ‘It is totally okay,” they assured her, passing it around like it was some sacred ritual. The peer pressure was subtle but effective, nothing aggressive. Cue the next 25 minutes, Martha, a model student just hours ago, forgot how to blink.
Her brain was working overtime just trying to remember which hand was her right and which was her left. Meanwhile, the couch she was glued to had somehow become her closest confidant, pulsing with a strange, calming energy that she swore felt alive. When she finally emerged from her self-made fog of confusion and existential wonder, she looked around with wide, glassy eyes and everyone was laughing.
Just one pill, Jake
Jake had tasted weed before, so he believed his body had total control over any drug. On this random night out, he and his friends were pre-gaming - a culture at university where everyone gets onto the next cloud just before the real party starts. He had heard from his older, cooler friends that there was a little something to get the party started. “How bad could one pill be?” Jake asks, confidently swallowing something he had just been handed by his friends, who assured him it would only enhance his vibe.
The thing about curiosity at university, is that it is like opening a mystery box where the prize could be anything from a euphoric experience to a 12-hour panic attack. Jake quickly finds out, what he had not been told, the pill he had been given was the equivalent of drinking five cups of coffee while on a roller coaster. The next morning, Jake’s friends were concerned because he was still dancing in his room at 5am. Convinced he was about to break out into an impromptu rave, they remind him how late he was going to be for class. Jake, who is now experiencing time dilation, could not even spell his name. To this day, Jake does not know what was in that pill.
Cough syrup this strong? Yooo!
In pharmaceutical drugs, there is a cough and flue medicine that shall not be named, but it contains codeine. I cannot tell how university students discovered this. What would happen is that they would mix this soda for the perfect chill height. Ken, who was struggling to find rest after a long night out was recommended to try this syrup by a friend. He bought a soda from the canteen, headed back to his hostel room, and got to work. It started off casual. The syrup in a soda bottle, a quick shake, a few sceptical looks then cheers all around like they were in some underground lounge no one talks about. At first, Ken thought it was overrated. He did not feel anything. Until he stood up. Suddenly, the ground felt like it was moving very slightly, like he was on a boat that had not quite figured out its direction. Thirty minutes later, Ken was not just relaxed, he was part of the mattress.
His body had given up all ambition. Meanwhile, his roommate was sitting in a corner giggling at his own hand like he had just discovered his thumbs. At around midnight, Ken decided it was absolutely necessary to take a walk outside to feel the breeze. Such a bad idea. He made it three steps out of his room before realising he no longer trusted his knees to do the job. So he sat down right there, in the hallway and started a full-blown conversation with a mop leaning against the wall. The next morning, Ken woke up in his bed wearing one shoe, one sock while cuddling the mop.
Let’s try some brown sugar, George
George was not new to the game. By the time most students were still figuring out how to roll their first joint, George was already a seasoned veteran. He was not just smoking weed, he had sampled everything from standard joints to ones suspiciously spiced with who-knows-what. In his circle, George was the guy, the one who always had a plug for something. He casually sipped on codeine like it was Ribena, bragged about using cocaine at random hostel parties, and could outdrink even the most hardened waragi warriors.
A UG zinge was child’s play or simple warm-up. George was the kind of guy who could have a Torrero for breakfast, and when mummy’s upkeep money checks in, he had upgraded to fancier drinks.Then came brown sugar, not the sweet stuff. This was heroin’s raw, unrefined cousin. A friend of his smuggled some home, hyping it up as the next big experience. George, forever the daredevil, took the first sniff. Nothing. Unimpressed, he went in for a second, bigger one, ignoring his friend’s panicked warnings. But this time, George’s body had other plans. Within minutes, he felt dizzy, slumped back into the chair, and blacked out completely.
Then the foaming started thick, white foam spilling from his mouth and that is when the party ended. Panic filled the room. Luckily, George was home in Kansanga that day, and when the noise got out of hand, his mother came rushing in. One look at George, and she did not even ask questions, she just called the IHK ambulance. The ambulance arrived fast and rushed him to the ICU.
He stayed there for a week, unconscious for most of the days. Meanwhile, his partner in crime, the same guy who had brought the brown sugar, vanished into thin air, leaving George alone to face the consequences. The doctors, clueless about what exactly he had taken, could only treat symptoms and hope for the best. George’s parents were wrecked. His mother stayed by his bedside every single day. His father, however, was not as forgiving, especially after they spent Shs15m in medical bills. When George finally woke up, he had to face a furious, traumatised family and a lot of explaining to do.
When the cat was away…
Can 100 men fight off a gorilla? Huh? Seen that conversation? Oba you missed it. The answer to that question is hidden in some rare trip into the psyche. And how to get there? Let’s start officially. It was in the early days of the first Covid-19 lockdown, Dan’s old man had chosen to keep thems home-bound. Unbeknownst to him, he was also leaving them to summon their demons. That is how Dan came to be convinced to try out the wilder side of life. If they were going to die, they could as well die having tried the things they feared. “I grew up in the era when ‘njaga’ was the epitome of being spoilt.
So when a friend suggested weed gummies, I knew I had fully rebelled and established the identity of ‘I’.” It was around 4pm when Dan and crew took the first prick off the gummy. Apparently, these things took long to set in. After 30 minutes, he felt no effect. A friend encouraged him to finish the ka piece since he was a self-proclaimed hard guy. “We drove to his girlfriend’s apartment somewhere in Jeeras [Najjera]. Yes, it had to be that place.
Nga doesn’t the thing set in. Nga don’t I start switching between universes. I could hear the beginning of a sentence in one universe, interprete the middle in the second, and understand in the third universe. I was switching between the spaces. The laugher of my friend and his girlfriend did not help the case. It was an evil laughter. I started to get paranoid – I was finally finished, these guys are going to sacrifice me. The problem is every imagination would build on itself. Then I decided to get out of the house and start counting the number plates in the parking yard.
Then I was shocked that the number plates had letters. Then I would forget myself. What was happening? Am I going crazy? Where am I? Who am I? I went back to the house and started drinking some water. But I would forget in the middle of the act. Like imagine picking up a cup of water and forgetting why you picked it. Luckily, I slept off. And I woke up the next day. I was glad I was back to the one universe I understood…but somehow, I wished to revisit those many universes. But the very could happened. Weed gummies… see them and run!”
