Monkey Business

• 

They say the devil is found in dark and dingy places like dens and dungeons. Others think it could be in hell, brothels or parliament. Lurking in shadows, holding a long pitchfork seducing sons of King Ahab and daughters of Jezebel into adultery and fornication. Well I’m not sure. All I know is the devil himself is amidst us. He does unimaginable things in ways mere mortals can’t understand. Whether puffed, ingested or injected, he is truly a liar. Cocaine and heroin are his second and third name respectively. A lip dose of either would make you despise Shash, Chrome or Captain Morgan combined. Even still, Konyagi and Waragi are mere babies in diapers. Forget the cheap drama local pissheads subject us to like walking naked, running abstract relays, preaching to stones and reciting the loyalty pledge. I have heard of and seen people who’ve tried fighting elephants literally, tried climbing kencom House like spider man and tried diving in basins as though they are swimming pools. Notice a recurrence of the word tried coz all these monkey stunts ended up hospital theatres and HDUs. So in the next two paragraphs I’ll tell the story of DO aka OD as he’s well known.

Now it all started in some illustrious colonial school along Ngong Road. Dude was filthy rich thanks to his parents’ noble positions in government. But there was a problem, he couldn’t garner requisite courage to approach those hot babes you stumble into during school funkies. Poor peep was persuaded to try a puff of marijuana and gulp some vodka daily to appease the goddess of guts. Like any trusted friend, weed didn’t disappoint, it actually overworked. And led him to the very urethra of the devil. Just within the next couple of funkies, son of fate had successfully contacted some bloody herpes. On the very first smashing encounter! After painstakingly gaining much needed confidence. Now here’s the gist of this, poor boychild would concertedly frequent the sanatorium. Our patient patient however, was too embarrassed to confide in doc about the harrowing hell his fucking dick was in. Headache, stomachache, back pain, fever, nausea and rashes was his narrative. After a month’s vanity of pain relieving tabs and deafening screams whilst peeing he finally revealed the sores on his frail genitalia. This was to no amusement of the doc who admitted to be suspecting some stubborn STI. “I knew it!” OD would reminisce the doc’s words. But the patient had first to be honest.

Fast forward Bombay, India. In a non-existent college where dude had been sent to study in a “narcotic-free-environment”. Instead he changed courses from a bachelors in finance progressively to a dip, degree, masters and consequently doctorate in cocaine peddling and heroine smoking. With the accompanying drama and trouble all his friends deserted save for one Lucifer. Now Lucifer was OD’s 3 year best friend, confidant, prayer partner, mentor, spiritual director, drinking buddy and roommate. Somehow he always gave him all the hope and nourishment he needed. Other than his chaotic life, he could not trade Lucifer for anything. Not even cocaine nor heroin. His acquiescence with Lucifer came to being when one of his coca folks, Jaresh had returned from a 3 day academic trip in New Delhi while dead broke. To quench a simmering crave for brown sugar, Jaresh auctioned his pair of jeans, cap and t-shirt. Soon all he had for himself was Lucifer and a pair of boxers. Lucifer was a hapless monkey Jaresh had managed to smuggle from Sultanpur National Park and Bird sanctuary during the academic trip. For whatever reason I just don’t know. Jaresh upon getting dead broke, ultimately sold Lucifer to OD for 100 rupees, that’s something close to 150 Kenyan shillings.

 With lots of love, OD would carry Lucifer along on the back thanks a woolen rack sack he was gifted by Shree, his all-time shashbae. Confidently with Lucifer mgongoni he would gallivant liquor stores, football stadia, banking halls, commuter buses and trains. How he managed to domesticate an ape remains another parable of the sower. Don’t ask me what language they conversed, what food Lucifer ate and whether he too became a coca legend before we achieve the big 4 agenda.

The scripture says all is vanity. It indeed was when OD later got involved in a life threatening road accident that saw him break two limbs and loose his favourite being. It happened on an express way exiting Mumbai. He’d finished collecting dues from revelers in a local joint when he realized his Lucifer had a terrible fever and was trembling feebly. (Little bastard would often pass his hat through revelers asking them to pay offering and later use the mullah for booze). After a dozen desperate calls for ambulance/emergency services went unanswered, he resorted to rush Lucifer to the Maharashta Hospital being the ninja he was. While high on hemp, our son of soil imagined he could outride all the cars he saw cruising. On a bicycle though. Hurriedly he got Lucifer on his back, grabbed a bicycle from one of the cyclist and immediately joined the express way trying to race the cars and buses. As his blew a whistle he had, he imagined fellow motorist would consider him an ambulance and therefore give him way. Wow what a clever chap! Next, our idiot woke up in excruciating pain after spending one month in a comma at the very hospital he was rushing Lucifer to. Lucifer the poor ape had lost his life.

Long story short, verily verily I tell you. It is easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for a heroin addict to regain sanity. But hey fear not, you can’t even use stuff like Cocaine and heroin unless you are stinking rich. That shit is damn expensive (1 gram goes for 3K). Before then, please grab a government tender and then call me for plugs.  Goodbye.