Hives and Other Drugs

I spent my evenings drinking too much. There was nothing else to do. My best friend lied too often and loneliness held my hand too tight as I lay on my bed moping at the roof of my empty room. I had to indulge myself. Make the evenings worthwhile. Get away from it all. The lies my friend told… the babbling of my parents… the pressure to be what I was not… the cheap men that wanted to a piece of me… ambition… I was too young for it all. I had to get away. One of these evenings cannot be erased from my memory. In ten years, twenty or sixty… It started out beautiful… I had had four little cups of Don Simon; they went down too quickly. Seven hard gulps. I liked to feel woozy quickly, laugh early and walk home late, right before the hard-hearted gateman locked the gate. As I walked towards the punch guy to get a fifth cup, a certain character walked up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder… I stared hard at the guy. He looked very familiar… “Yes?” “Hi.” He ...

He did not take my top off or make attempts to kiss me all over. He pecked me a few times on the lips and started to take his pants off. Then he helped me take off mine. We were both aware that there was no wetness, yet he wanted in. Hence, it took a while before he could push all of himself in. He had tried and tried, but his partner-in-crime wasn’t hard enough. He patted me on the back and asked me to suck his dick. I did, the way I knew how – slowly and continuously going up and down. I guess I wasn’t doing what he expected of me because he clutched my hair extensions to control the pace. He kept pushing my head down, making me take in the whole length of his veined accomplice. I shut my eyes hard. I could withstand this pain. I could. I fought back throwing up while the lines that separated my upper eyelids from the bottom were laced with tears. Saliva had found its way to my jaw and was slowly making its way to my neck. We were at this for quite a while be...

It started out as a conversation. I and my friend were discontented about our financial status. I talked about how pleasant it would be if I had ‘sufficient’ and steady income. She talked about how she could not bring herself to ask men for money. We talked about the Aristo Chics we knew that summed up enough courage to collect humongous amounts from their customers. God was listening to our conversation. He had to make a comedy out of it, so he provided me what Unilag girls would call ‘opportunity’. Later that day, I was buying yoghurt around Honours when a white jeep honked at me. I walked up to the car and saw that an old man (most likely older than my father) was the driver and only occupant of the vehicle. “Good afternoon Sir”. “Good afternoon my dear. Do you stay in this hostel?” “No Sir.” “Where do you stay?” “Moremi Sir.” I lied, “Is there any problem Sir?” “No my dear. I would just like to know you better. I want you to be my friend” I could not help but laug...

Tagging him rich was belittling; he owned money. He carried bundles around - wads he never actually sat down to count. He had no such time. His boys did that for him. Coloured men were his friends: Mr. Browne, Mr. Whyte and Mr. Greene. He knew people. He owned no organization yet his busyness boomed. He was not an armed robber or a hired assassin or a contractor. He was a salary earner who amassed wealth from under his table. His well-wishers took him out often; to acquaint him with more people …people of considerable and contemptuous works of life, including the ones who wore white garments and carried wrongly carved wooden crosses. “Mashababrikatetemalo ooooooo”, one of them said as he jumped around on one foot, while acting in the same way as Nneka the Pretty Serpent. “Awon ara ile e o fe jeki o nisimi. Won fe ri irawo e mole (Your family members do not want you to have peace. They want to bury your star)”, another said looking down while he played with his narrow-mouthed g...

We had been fucking for four months. Boyfriend, girlfriends or side peeps, we did not care. We did not pry in each other’s lives and we did not take things farther. I loved him and he said he loved me. Everything was normal and uncomplicated. Then he had to leave and I became lonely. We talked every day and practically every minute but I was still lonely. I needed him there but it seemed like he was never coming back. Then I made a beautiful mistake. I had made two friends. A producer and his joint. We smoked up and cooled down. Then we took our clothes off in ecstasy and committed a sin against my lover. We made love and we climaxed. I had never climaxed. Probably because things were different with the producer. It was passionate, unlike what I had had with my lover. My lover dominated me while the producer united with me. Our mutual friend had enlightened us. He told us that we needn’t worry or care about the circumstances that held us apart. He told us to lea...