#saynotodrugabuse

“Sir, his condition is getting more critical and  beyond our control. It's high time you made up your mind and fly him to India for the operation” the doctor said, stretching his arm out to give my father the third result of the drug test carried out on me.  

My father was speechless as his shoulders slumped in dejection, laying his head on the doctor's table. He was breathing erratically as it was hard for him to comprehend how his only son who was announced as an overall best student in a prominent Arabic and Islamic school on his graduation day, could be battling liver damage due to drug addiction. 

“At this point, I can't continue  prescribing the sustaining drugs for him and it's no longer effective either. The last hope is the operation” the doctor added, prayed for my well-being and my father's pocket. 

On getting home, my mum was curiously waiting for the result of the last  test. “Welcome, ọkọ mí” she said, as she was looking sympathetically at the tears rolling through my skin-and-bone cheek. Then, she faced my father and asked him what was the result.  

“Take a look yourself” father replied with a low and apprehensive voice as he gave mum the brown envelope containing the result and the address of the referred hospital in India.  

“Yeeeeh!” mum exclaimed after checking through the result. She held her head tightly with her two hands and couldn't utter any more words than swimming in her own ocean of tears. 

I couldn't withstand the dramatic tragedy situation, I rushed swiftly to my room, and instantly locked the door. I laid down helplessly on the bed thinking about the past, I was the architect of my misfortune. 

“What... What have I caused to myself?” I continued asking myself the questions that I knew the answers to. I was the perfect child to my parents. They wouldn't have believed it if someone had told them that their only son was the brain behind those burning their midnight candle between their fingers among his friends .  

My cupboard was full of skeletons but I played my game well. I never left any traces. I prayed my five times daily prayers on time and no one in the congregation would ever perceive the scent of marijuana in my mouth and my body, as my mouth was never devoid of tom-tom  I also sprayed my body with perfume every five minutes.  

“Where would my father, an ordinary clergy, get this huge sum of money from? How can my mom raise millions of naira from selling sachet water? Where are my friends who initiated me? Why am I the only one having liver damage? Why me?!” I uttered the last question loudly as I woke up from my slumber.  

I was full of sweat and breathing pantingly. “Was this real or I was dreaming?” I asked myself. But this appeared to be more real than dreams. 

“Ayo, come and watch your favorite TV programme ooo” mum shouted.  I walked out to the sitting room with a cold feet, thinking about the coincidence of my dream and the last discussion; The Effects of Drug Addiction, on my favorite TV program; Say No To Drug Abuse...

© Ajikobi Moshkur Oluwashina