The recent push to have marijuana legalised by some Rastafarians has raised eyebrows. But I won’t comment on the matter since it’s before court. My only concern is the enduring association of weed with the poor.
Back in my college days, a local tycoon hired me to coach his kids during the holidays. I am not much of a teacher but since I needed the mullah, I took up the job. One day, after just getting paid, I headed to the local watering hole which was mostly patronized by local wadosi. I hoisted myself on a sina tabu, asked for a drink and buried my head in the day’s newspaper.