How do you handle drug-fuelled kids?

teenage offsprings are useless, more or less when their hormones start raging. At least that’s what the experts tell us. Unfortunately, it’s this rebellious attitude that most men exploit when happily teaching their curious teenage conquests all they know about sex. Deji had the penchant for them and that’s made me put a bit of distance between us when he got worst.We’re still good friends however, and he consults me from time to time whenever he needs to. He recently called at mine after almost a year of our seeing face-to-face. Most of the time, we talked on the phone.

He’d decided to redecorate his living room and I’d recommended the carpenter

I’ve used for decades. He was quite impressed by the end products and asked me over for a preview. The couch was particularly impressive and as we both bounced on it, playfully toying with the idea of testing it for comfort,the doorbell shrieked.

Deji was a bit annoyed, he wasn’t expecting anybody, he assured, and hurriedly went to the door to dismiss whoever it was. I was a bit irritated when he walked in with one of his ‘girls.’ She had a man with her and carrying a bundle of what turned out to be drapes, on her shoulders, and an obioma (mobile tailor), in tow. Talk about division of labour: Deji must have contracted her to handle that part of decorating! She pointedly ignored me and I was amused. All these young girls that have suddenly become ‘active’ believe they’re at par with the older generation.

“You could have phoned first,” Deji grumbled. “Why?” she wanted to know. “I only called to hang the drapes and for the tailor to make any alterations if necessary. I don’t need you to be home to do that.” For once, a bit of his cocky confidence seemed to have deserted him.

And I was intent on sitting things out with this small rat. This was my ‘me’ time with Deji and I intended to make the most of it. By the time the curtains were hung, they looked a bit lop-sided but shortly after,Labi, a good friend of Deji’s showed up. A hard working industrialist,his has been the proverbial rag-to-riches story. Unfortunately, his two indolent sons are bent on not following  his footsteps.

And now, with a polite how-are-you?—he went into a blow-by-blow account of how he’s now raising a pair of drug addicts who seemed to believe they couldn’t have a life without drugs. According to Labi: “A few times, I’ve discovered the stuff in their luggage on their way out of the country and I’d confiscated it.  I am well known in the society and no druggie will embarrass me.I often met them half-way. As long as they don’t try and take the stuff out of the country, they can have as much as they want to buy the stuff when they get back to college.”

Deji’s came in shortly not looking pleased with himself. Seeing we wouldn’t be alone, Madam Curtain, hanger left, directing a smirk at me.

All Deji did was ask Labi if the business partners he went to pick up from the airport had settled in before Labi let rip. “They arrived all right and are now settled elsewhere, no thanks to my two sons,” he said.

“Before I checked them into their hotel rooms, I insisted on them having drinks at the house first. I wanted them to see how well I lived. As soon as we got home, I got out of the car to get the steward to bring in their luggage, but when I opened the living room door, the air was thick with the acrid smell of Indian hemp! I beat a hasty retreat to the car, informing the bewildered guests that someone had left an urgent message for me at the hotel! I then instructed the driver to take us to the hotel to unwind.

“In the meantime, I was boiling with anger. My two sons are currently with me on holidays and believe me, I don’t know how to handle them. They smoke hemp like they smoke cigarettes and their awful end-of-term results didn’t even give them sleepless nights.

“Would you believe my older son had the nerve to grumble that the stuff they buy over there does not ‘shack’ them as much as the ones in this country? Several times, I’d threatened to throw them out in the streets but their mother always finds ways of making me change my mind….”

Thankfully, not all parents are that indulgent with their wayward offspring. I was with an older aunt after Labi’s visit when she told me her youngest who is just 18, was on admission at a private hospital. He’s always had a drug problem and I thought this incarceration was to dry him out, until my aunt fumed he’d recently had the nerve to ask her to ‘stuff it’ when she admonished him on his weird behaviour. “His poor dad had told him to come home at decent hours because we live in a respectable neighbourhood,”said the poor woman. But instead of feeling contrite, he told his father he was shocked that his dad could tell him off in a house that belonged to his mother. More or less saying his dad was a spineless sponger. It was then I knew drastic measures had to be taken to bring the lad to his senses. Discreetly, I arranged for the night-guard to get a few more guards from the neighbourhood and be on the lookout for my son. Anytime he came in very late, they were to ‘deal’ with him.

“Three days later, he practically crawled in on all fours, howling. The guards had so professionally walloped him that there was no visible bruise on his body. The next day, he couldn’t even get up for the pains and I sent for the doctor. This is just a sample, I warned him as the doctor took him away, ‘next time you touch the stuff and have the nerve to insult your parents, you wll get the same treatment.’ Touch wood, he’s never stepped out of line since his nasty, shocking experience.