Entry 21

STILL ON THE MATTER

“Hi am Ifeoma, I am looking for camphor, do you smoke weed?” those were the first words said to me by my new neighbor Ifeoma. I would not call her new per say buh, she and I have been flat mates for over 8 months and had never known about each other’s existence until the intervention of a rainy night and her inability to get her hands on weed.
Although I was taken aback by her startling approach ( being used to the idea that neighbors in normal lands asked each other for a cup of sugar, a glass of milk, dash of pepper, spoon of salt and so forth but camphor? Weed?)
I happened to have an unopened packet of camphor which I had brought to place in my cupboard (to chase away Nneka’s little minions should they decide to nibble on my clothes). After I apologized for not having weed, I offered her the whole packet of camphor which she grabbed greedily form my hand and then disappeared(I believe I can fly!! He-he-he)
Days and weeks later, I thought I had dreamed the whole camphor slash weed affair until we started bumping into each other at odd places in school.
We never spoke though, just a slight nod to acknowledge each other’s presence.

It was a rainy night that played ‘cupid’ and brought us together again [Cockroaches are going to take over the world, and soon! I can feel it. They have been the one orchestrating all the recent kidnappings in 9ja I swear!]
Oh, where was I? Ifeoma, yes. So, while we were both trapped in the name [ha-ha, I wrote name. I was thinking rain. Name, rain, name. he-he-he, they sound alike] sorry, rain. I meant rain. While we were both trapped in the rain, she confessed that she didn’t know my name and wasn’t comfortable calling people ‘hey you’. I told her I was Tabby and followed her home.
We chatted for a while and got to know ourselves. My special one came calling so, I promised to see her some other time and left [ps, he doesn’t seem to like her, I wonder why… I see dead people he-he-he].
When it started raining this afternoon, I had that funny suspicion that I’d see her.
It wasn’t long before Ifeoma knocked on my door.
She was celebrating and did not want to be alone; today was the second month since she quit smoking and she decided to do a few sticks to prove that she was better than it, she had beaten her addiction. I invited her in and gave her a blanket to wrap up with (she looked cold). I sat and watched in awe as she expertly prepared, rolled the paper [lick, dab, roll, lick and woof-woof!! I am a dog. he-he-he] and lit the stick.
She offered me a drag, I initially said no! but later changed my mind; If she a final year accounting student with so much at stake could manage her addiction for so long then finally beat it then I Tabitha, a woman borne of a man with a mind so clear and a body untainted by such toxin could do much better than she.
I have better self control and a higher stamina than her. I can never get addicted to igbo, am I mad?!
Right?
Ifeoma passed out on my floor and seems to be sprouting another head he-he-he. [If I cut the other one away, would two grow in its place? If men don’t produce milk, why do they have nipples? Would she mind? Would she mind if I cut the 3rd head and more if they all sprout at the same time?] I don’t know if I should wake her because I can see my reflection on my wall, he-he-he it’s so funny.
Arrgh!!! There is a giant earth worm lying beside her, my light bulb is filled with worms, some fell on her. Splat-splat, eek!! I think I am going to throw up.
I am trapped! If only my room wasn’t airborne, I would have run out side to get some help.
Dear G*d, please help so we’d land safely; please help so we don’t crash.

- Tabby