The coming collapse

We need to realise that a time might be coming when we cannot rely on governments, police, corporations to protect us and supply our basic needs. We also need to stop seeing that as a tragedy as the author of this article does. We should see it as an opportunity to build a new society. We need to start to prepare now, by become less reliant on the role the government and corporations play in our lives and becoming more self-reliant. We need to start growing our own food, developing our own communications networks, we need to move away from reliance on gadgets, quick solutions and unsustainable growth, We need to build networks of people that can be relied on not to turn on each other in crisis but willing to work for the common good, people that are not corrupted by materialism and capitalism, people that are not buying into a fantasy of redemption from some external force, like a coming messiah, or a miraculous rapture. We need to move fast, as like the author of this article, I believe this time is coming faster than we realise.
This is not Armageddon or Ragnarok, the judgement of the gods for our imagined ungodly behaviour, This is a situation of our own design,
We have made it, and only we can unmake it

The Problem with Protests

The problem with protests in this country is they all take place in little bubbles of insularity..... The government will not take us seriously until we learn to Stand together.... Black. White. Straight. Gay. Rich. Poor. Communist. Capitalist. Anarchist. We all want a better society. We are all sick and tired of the way things are. We need to identify the issues which concern us all and unite around those issues. To do that we need to get to know one another no matter our differences. Talk. Listen. Communicate. Make an effort today to get to know someone different to yourself. Someone you wouldn't usually talk to. Lets begin to stand together for real change.

Harm Reduction vs Recovery

There has been much debate lately around the pros and con of harm reduction vs recovery  especially in light of the Durban mayors decision to suspend the needle exchange program. I find little understanding and dismissive attitudes on both sides,and little attempt at understanding and explaining the underlying philosophies.
As someone who lives by ,and has a deep gratitude for the 12 step recovery program and is also involved in harm reduction initiatives, I do not find the two approaches incompatible. I feel there is much common ground,in fact there is far more that connects us than divides us. We share a passion for healing: of the most vulnerable and despised members of our society, as well as the ills of the society that drive addiction. We should be working together to be more effective rather than fighting one another.
"Harm reduction is about meeting people where they are at, without judgement, and helping them find and achieve their drug use aims (including abstinence) in the way that causes the least harm to them, irrespective of the current legal and policy framework. This is the spirit of needle and syringe programs delivered by peers illegally out of backpacks, or of the testing of drugs at festivals under threat of arrest." Shaun Shelly. Full article @medium.com/@s

…/has-harm-reduction-lost-its-soul-bf5ef200e068

The Treatment Dilllema

The problem  is not that treatment doesn't work. The problem is what happens after treatment. People spent two, three months in treatment and return to their old lives, old problems. The things that caused them to use in the first place. You cannot overcome a long term heroin abuse problem in one or even 3 months. The 12 step program has proved solution for many of us. But what about the people on the streets, who have nothing to go back to: no jobs, no family, no education, no skills, no support structure? After treatment they return to the streets, where it is almost impossible to stay clean,   What is needed is a long term recovery and reintegration program to address the personal and social problems of the recovering user and teach them the skills they need to face life and become productive members of society.

Why I do what I do

People ask me why I do what I do.. Here's why.... I have no family of my own, I'm gay, I have been a drug addict all my life ( 15 years on whoonga, 4.years in recovery) ....i have been around to long and been through to much to care about what society and individuals think of me... I have no career, reputation or commitments to damage, I have nothing to lose

Haiku

In March I attended a workshop on story telling and creativity in academic writing. We were asked to produce a haiku which encapsulated the essence of our dissertations. This is what I came up with:

Rats caught in a cage
Heroin the solution
Freedom? BREAK THE CAGE

One thing we need to do is stop referring to each other as different races. It is a constant and unconscious reminder of the things that divide us. Remember : There is only one race and that is the human race....

Protests in Scottburgh

Here is the full story of events leading to my arrest On Wednesday 27th June
Just under a month ago there was a march in Scottburgh. Despite reports of violence and burning tyres in the township prior to the march, it was disciplined with no incidents reported. A memorandum, making the following demands were presented to the mayor:
Immediate suspension or resignation of three allegedly corrupt managers as per a report from Cooperative Governance and Traditional Affairs as well as findings submitted by the Auditor General.
Answers regarding the process of Gqolweni Road and why it has been delayed.
Demand that Umdoni implement an annual youth empowerment programme for unemployed youth and graduates with a budget of R3-million per year.
Demand answers regarding the posts for 50 general workers as advertised and whether people were employed or not – if employed, what was the criteria for shortlisting.
Further demands were made that Umdoni, when job opportunities become available, first prioritise local people.
Demand that all youth who have undergone training by the municipality in terms of specialised and scarce skills programmes, be ‘exhausted’ by the municipality permanently.
Managers must be obliged to sign a performance agreement which will allow leadership to dismiss incompetent managers with immediate effect.
Demands were made that all meetings called for by councillors belonging to the respective wards above, only be held on weekends.
Demands that the Demarcation Board revisit the demarcation of wards 14 and 16 since these have create mass confusion to the people of Amandawe and Amahlongwa.
Councillors are warned to stop interfering – in respect of graduates – on internship programmes which are meant to benefit successful graduates in order for them to acquire minimum experience for the work environment.
Demand that all construction companies with ties to Umdoni, or, contracted by Umdoni to render services on behalf of the municipality, to pay workers a minimum of R200 per day.
The community have voiced that they expect all of the above issues to be concluded within a period of 10 days.
These demands are not radical and certainly not targeted at white people, as many think. Yet many businesses were closed, and the people of Scottburgh were warned to stay at home fearing the worst. It is the fear-mongering in these situations that concerns me. People assume that when black people march or protest there will be violence and it will be targeted at whites. Yes, I am not naïve: I know things do get burned when people are angry. But I have also seen first hand how well-disciplined people can be under the instruction of an organization in a formal march. This is why I joined the march. To show white people they have nothing to fear. To show black people that there are whites who support them. If more white people supported such marches it would go along way to diffusing black anger. They are mostly angry because they ae not being listened to.
Protests started up last week in Amandawe about the fact that the mayor had not addressed their demands. The press and social media were full of stories about violence and rioting. Some of these were no doubt true; the people are angry and have a reason and a right to be so. So when I heard there was to be a legal march on Wednesday I decided to join.
We walked towards Amandawe hoping to meet the marchers approaching the town. They had been given permission to march to the Northern entrance to Scottburgh and assemble on the grass field on the bank of the Mpambonyani. By the time we got to the Highway about 2kms out of town there was still no sign of the marchers. About a km further there is a Shembe church where we saw the first police cars. There were about 20 assorted police cars and a good number of police. As we walked past one of the officers asked me where I was going. I said “Im here to support the march.” He replied “good luck”. At no stage did anyone try to stop me or inform me that the march was now illegal. 
The people were assembled in scattered groups at the bottom of a steep hill just past the church. As far as I could see there were people just standing and sitting around. I would estimate around 5 or 6000. They seemed to be waiting for something. As I approached people looked at me warily. No-one said anything directly to me but I could sense all eyes on me and a lull in the general conversation. I raised both hands with open palms and said loudly: “I’m here to.support”. Some of the guys in the nearest group put out their fists in greeting, but most just carried on. So I wandered around for a while just greeting people. Some were openly friendly, others were sullen, but there was no open hostility. After about half an hour of this, a group of five young guys called me over. One handed me a red marshall’s shirt and said I should put it on “just to be safe.” A few people started to approach and ask questions and engage in conversation. They were waiting for a report back from a team of negotiators who had approached the police. Shortly after this a bakkie came down the hill. People began to congregate around the bakkie and started singing, toyi-toying. The people on the back had been negotiating with police. They addressed the crowd. It seems the police were willing to let the march continue if people would drop their sticks. Most of the people did so but some refused. People began to gather on the road to continue the march. However permission to continue did not come. Negotiators were sent back. At this point I witnessed just how disciplined the crowd could be. One word into the megaphone and the 2000 something people at the front of the march sat down in unison. We waited for about 15 minutes like this before negotiators came running down the hill. Tear gas was fired from a distance into a largely seated crowd. It was after this that four tyres were burned. This is the first and only time I saw tyres burnt. The crowd was now angry and restless and started to regroup, demanding they be allowed to march. One of the negotiators had been part of a group I had spoken to earlier. He came over and asked me if I wanted an escort to the police lines. I told him I was happy to stay as I had experienced no hostility from the people. He then told me that one of the policemen had threatened to shoot him, and he was worried they might target me as the only umlungu in the crowd. I was then asked to join with the marshalls at the front of the crowd. Some thought that having a white face there might protect them.
Police came down and put some tape across the road. Shortly after this a police van approached from the Amandawe side, hooting to get through. This was the one and only time when I thought things might turn ugly. People surrounded the van, singing and dancing, sticks were waved. Three youth stood at the front of the car, sticks held high. But the moment passed. At the urging of marshalls the crowd parted and the van was allowed to proceed. 
A line of police men in full riot gear came down the hill followed by a number of vehicles. Marshalls again called for people to sit, which they did. One of the organisers addressed the crowd. The message was :The mayor is here. Please behave yourselves. At first the crowd listened in silence, but obviously they were not happy with his words. People started heckling and booing. This carried on for a few minutes. Suddenly a handful of stones came flying over our heads. They had obviously come from somewhere near the back of the crowd. Then there was chaos. Police began to fire teargas and charge the still seated crowd. Most turned and ran down the road. I decided to climb up the embankment, rising about 30 feet at the side of the road. At the top I stopped and turn to watch what was happening below.
At this point I need to address the legality of the march. Originally the march to Scottburgh had been given permission to proceed. At some point in the morning permission had been withdrawn. There is still some confusion as to why this was done and who made the decision. Some felt it may be due to the fact that the permit allowed for 4000 marchers and the crowd exceeded that size. Others have said that decision was made when one of the organisers withdrew. Perhaps the police can clarify. However the march did not proceed. People remained gathered at the bottom of the hill approaching the Shembe church and attempted to negotiate the continuation of the march. At no stage did the marchers attempt to proceed illegally. This then leaves in question the legal status of the gathering itself. It seems unreasonable to allow a number of thousand people to gather and then tell them to go home. To tell them the march cannot proceed is one thing, but to tell them they must disperse is stupid and asking for trouble. That’s just my opinion. As for the facts, one stands out for me: The mayor was brought in to address the crowd. Surely this would not be done if the gathering was considered illegal. Thus the mayors presence shows that, up until that point at least, police still regarded the gathering as a legal one. 
From my vantage point at the top of the hill I watched proceedings below. Within a very short period the protestors and the police chasing them had disappeared into the distance and the surrounding buildings, leaving an eerily deserted scene, with a few police officers standing around. One of them called on me to come down. At first I hesitated, but thought that I had done nothing wrong and it seemed he only wanted to talk. As I got to the bottom of the hill, he was still around 20 to 30 feet away from me, he told me he was going to arrest me. It was then that I realised it was the same officer who had asked me where I was going earlier. He even asked me if I remembered him and what he had said. I did not resist arrest, but I did begin to loudly protest my innocence. 
I was thrown in the back of the police van where I sat for nearly an hour, alone. It seemed no-one else had been arrested. We then proceeded to Scottburgh police station. I was taken to the cells where I found nine others who had been arrested at the march much earlier in the day. Three of them were youth of 15,16 and 17 years. They told me they had been among the first arrivals at the march and had been met with teargas. I proceeded to fill them in on the days events. I didn’t really keep track of time that day, but it must have been around 2’0 clock when we arrived in Scottburgh.
After about two hours we were told by police we were being released. Four people were taken out, and returned about an hour later. They then took me and another three out . We were told that we could be released if we made a statement. No lawyer was present for us to consult. We obviously refused and were returned to the cell. A while later the door opened again and they asked if anyone wanted tea and bread. We all refused. The others told me it was the first time they had offered food or drink all day. Later still they came and took the three youth out of the cell. I believe they were further pressured to make statements. We were eventually released around 8 o clock with no charges being brought. They did however ask us each to pose for a photograph before we left.

Thoughts on Racism pt 2

Like all good white people of my age I went to the SADF straight out of school. There, fortunately I trained as a medic and learned to save lives rather than kill people. I worked in military hospitals and did not serve in operational areas either on the so called border or in the township. 
I subsequently went to university where I joined the end conscription campaign, which was an ally of united democratic front. We would attend political rallies and funerals in the township at the height of the state of emergency and the army occupation of the townships. We would sometimes be stopped and questioned by soldiers. These were young white boys who had been brain washed to believe that all black people wanted to kill them. For the most part they were in fear of there lives and they could not understand what we were doing in the township and why we didn't share their fear. 
They would ask us why we not afraid to enter the township. And we would say we are safe because we are here as friends to the people and to support them. 
Sometimes they would call a senior officer or policeman to deal with us. Then we were in for it. I have never before or since been on the receiving end of such hatred and vitriol as we received from these upholder of apartheid. We were insulted, abused, screamed at called all kinds of names. Once when we had some literature in the car we were arrested and spent the night in jail. We were released the next day when the police did not find any of our literature on their long list of banned writings. This is why I sympathise with black people in this country. I have been on the receiving end of white racism. 
Even today I still sometimes see that pure hatred and rage being unleashed on people, normally when they have earned thE disapproval of , or done something to offend a white person . I have never in my life seen a black person talk to a white in such a way. Not in a face to face situation. Yes maybe they will rant and rave for show at a political rally. Yes tHey can be rude and surly and ignore you
Yes they will sometimes make a snide comment in their own language or laugh at the silly umlungu...but that level of rage and hatred I have only ever seen coming from white people.... And plEase white people don't crucify me.... I am not saying you all guilty of it. ...it is a product of a particular attitude which harks to a previous time and age that is hopefully dying out 
But we have to make a conscious effort to kill it... it will not die in its own. It has lately been returning with all this talk of white genocide and fear of land expropriation. The way to kill it is simply to treat each other with respect dignity and friendship. For the most part we South Africans of all colours are a peaceful and friendly nation. Let's Talk to each other. Get to know one another . Hatred only creates more hatred, fear breeds fear, violence more violence. But the opposite is also true. When you treat someone with respect you earn their respect. Love And friendship create more love and friendshiip . I know I sound like a f***ing hippy now...... but  it must be true after all it's in the Bible.....

Some thoughts on racism

I personally have far more experience of white racism than black racism. I work everyday with black people and have done so for many years. I have been going in and out of townships since the age of 5 even during the height of apartheid and during the army occupation if the townships. I have almost never experience any form of racism directed towards me and have only ever been treated with friendship and respect. 
I also work and study at a black university where I  receive a fee waiver, which means I don't pay fees-- this is quite common at doctoral level- and I also receive a bursary. So when people tell me about black racism and lack of opportunities for white people in this country I have to dispute them because this is not my experience. 
On the other hand I daily hear white running down black people and talking down to them as though they are children or stupid.. I daily hear whites sitting around at a braai or in the bar where the main topic of conversation is about how stupid/ dirty/ sexual predatory etc black people are and how much they have ###cked up the country... I am constantly being approached by white people whispering rude and offensive comments in my ear about black people because they assume because I am white I share there offensive assumptions. 
I realise this is my experience and I'm sure black people talk about us behind our backs as well... But I have never seen a black person, except perhaps when drunk, scream and swear and humiliate a white person in a public place in the way white people do, or talk down to people in an arrogant and condescending way as white people do all the time, . And this problem needs to be addressed we cannot ignore it any more as it is creating anti white sentiment and leading to violence against white people.....

Tough Love and recovery

Although tough love worked for me and don’t think it is appropriate for guys on the street, and those that do not have resources to fall back on. I had to get to a point of suffering where I was ready to die rather than carry on using. I had to know nobody would help me as long I continued to use, that my only option would be life on the streets.

As a privileged white South African I had to learn about  pain and suffering, to realise the pain and suffering I was inflicting on others to be able to quit heroin. But life is very different for people on the streets. They know all about pain and suffering. I still had a mother who loved me in spite of it all. I had an education to fall back on. I had friends who were able to get me in to an expensive treatment centre even though I couldn’t afford it. Most of the people on the streets do not have these resources. What they need is not tough love but hope. It doesn’t help to say to the guy on the streets: “Go out and suffer some more, you are not ready.”  It doesnt have to get worse for them to get better, it already as bad as it can be. They are already living at rock bottom.  The next step is death. Most of them have already given up on life. They need compassion, to know people care, to feel that they are worthwhile human beings.

Contrary to popular opinion not all addicted people living on the streets are criminals. I have known a great many who work very hard to support their habits, collecting cans, pushing trolleys, washing cars. I have met some beautiful people who just need someone to give them a chance. I have known guys with incurable sores on the faces, walking around, alone dejected who just through a little friendship and love begin to heal and to blossom. Even those who are still using begin to make connections, care about their health, about themselves, start to believe they can have a better life without drugs. In my experience a person fresh off the streets is unlikely to walk into any fellowship rooms and ask for help. What does work is to take the message of hope to them, not just to tell them to come to meetings, but to spend time with them, teaching them what the fellowship, the steps, and  the message of hope are all about, to build them up, give him friendship, get them off the streets for a little while, so they begins to feel like  worthwhile human beings again. Connection not rock bottom, can, for the person on the street can the first point of entry into recovery.

Hearing the voice of the addicted drug user

For me the crucial line between the addicted user and the non-addicted user, following Bill Wilson, the originator of the 12 step program, is the inability to stop. Wilson wrote: “If anyone questions whether he has entered this dangerous area, let him try leaving liquor alone for a year. If he is a real alcoholic, there is scant chance of success” “Some will be drunk the day after making their resolution; most of them within a few days.” ( Alcoholics Anonymous p 34). Wilson was writing of alcohol but it is equally true of drugs. This resonates with my own experience with heroin. I lived for in ten years of active addiction with the desperate desire to stop using, but found myself nevertheless using everyday. Over these years I found myself in and out of rehabs, temporarily getting off heroin, but always returned to using after a few days, weeks or months. In my experience and understanding this is the mark of a truly addicted drug user: wanting to stop but not knowing how.

My own  views about addiction and recovery have evolved since beginning this study. At the outset I was a fairly dogmatic believer in the 12 step model of total abstinence and the disease model of addiction. Through my extensive reading for this study and my personal experience with a methadone substitution program run by the Urban Futures Centre, I have discovered that there are many paths to recovery. Abstinence and the 12 step program is still my personal solution, but I have come to realise the value of harm reduction and other approaches. Harm reduction and recovery are often seen by their respective practitioners and supporters as mutually exclusive and antagonistic and they are often, in my experience, hostile to one another.  I believe that they are in fact different pieces of the same puzzle, and have far more in common than differences between them. This position is supported by, amongst others, William L. White, a prominent member of the recovery movement in America.  One of the goals of this study is to find mutual ground between the various approaches and to draw from each what works in practice.  

 My theoretical approach draws largely from the social recovery model as espoused by William White and others. It is also influenced by the writings Bruce Alexander who is famous for the so-called Rat Park experiments. More recently he has developed a socio-political understanding of addiction as resulting from the dislocation and alienation inherent in modern capitalist society.  Today I have come to believe that it is not the individual addicted user that is sick, but our society. Addicted drug users, like other stigmatized and marginalized groups, are the ones who carry the symptoms of the disease. They are despised because they are a constant reminder of the sickness of our society. I believe, however, they are also the ones who carry the cure, like the survivor of a rare virus who carries the antidote to the disease. By listening to them and learning from their life experience we can gain a greater understanding as to why so many people in modern society turn to drugs for their solution.

The voice of the addicted user is largely missing from the literature. An essential part of this study is to explore what addiction and recovery mean to the recovering addicted user, to begin to understand these from lived experiences. As a recovering addicted heroin user myself, I have come to believe that it is critical to have such voices heard if a decent model for dealing with drug use disorders is to be developed and implemented. Addicted drug users, especially those living on the streets, are a highly stigmatised and marginalised community. Their views are seldom heard when it comes to policy making and treatment models that are directed at them. Yet their own experiences and journeys into and out of addicted drug use could provide invaluable insights into the development of more effective treatment programs. The deficit in regards to the missing voices of drug users is even more stark in South African context.  Dos Santos, in her 2008 thesis, (amongst others) draws attention to the scarcity of research in the area of heroin use disorder intervention in South Africa and the desperate need for such research.

Rationale for study on addiction

My interest in addiction and recovery stems from lived experience as an addicted heroin user. I used heroin on and off for nearly 20 years. I found temporary relief from use through various programs, medications systems of belief and psychological interventions. I stopped using at one stage for 4 years, but continued to use alcohol and other drugs. Always I found myself eventualy returning to heroin use. What I came to realise is that drugs and alcohol were always my solution to the inability to deal with the problems and issues life had presented me. As long as I continued to seek out that solution I could never be free of heroin. In order to remain free of heroin I had to avoid all drugs and alcohol. I eventually found another solution in the program and fellowship of  Narcotics Anonymous. I remain an active member of this fellowship. I also do extensive work with addicted heroin users who live on the streets. These are people who do not have access to expensive treatment centres or medication. They are despised and stigmatised, the black sheep of our society and the scapegoats for all that is wrong in the world. Drug users are widely condemned with little understanding of what leads to problematic drug use and addiction.

This study is dedicated to the memory of a boy I knew only by the name of Small. He lived on the streets of Scottburgh and used whoonga ( a cheap form of brown heroin that is usually smoked) from the age of 10. he was a beautiful soul who was always cheerful and smiling no matter how bad his personal circumstances. He always carried a bucket, washing cars and windows around town. Always ready and willing to work , he gave lie to the myth that all heroin addicts are habitual criminals. (You can read his story here.. davidonymous.blogspot.co.za/2016/05/mikes-story.html and here davidonymous.blogspot.co.za/2017/02/the-story-of-mike-latest.html ) I never, in the two years that I was his friend, knew him to steal or commit a crime other than that of smoking heroin, for the comfort it gave him. Yet he was an arch-manipulator, a master story teller and actor of note, always ready with an exaggerated  tale of woe to tug at the strings of the heart and the purse of anyone who would listen. We put him into rehab-- he ran away. We got him medication and sent him home to his family, but the lure of the streets and the life of instant gratification was too strong. Nothing helped. Small eventually succumbed to TB in April 2017. He and others like him taught me gratitude for life and showed me that my own problems, my anger, my fear , my self-pity, which were always my reasons for using heroin were insignificant in the greater scheme of things. They also inspired me with a desire to help people like these, to find out more about what drives people to turn to drugs for their solution and what helps them to recover.

This study was initially inspired by the desire of trying to establish a recovery programme for people who wish to leave addicted heroin use but cannot afford the prohibitive cost involved in existing programs . I had intended to use this study to develop a model for a locally determined program informed by the life experiences of previously addicted users now in recovery. I have realised that this is an enormous undertaking , which may take years to reach fruition and one that is beyond the scope of this study. While this remains a personal goal what this study then intends to achieve is a more modest task of uncovering the common themes in the life stories of previously addicted heroin users: to discover what lead them to use and keep using heroin , and more importantly what factors were significant in helpingthem recover. Hopefully this information then can be taken up by others working in the field and ultimately assist in the formation of an inclusive treatment and recovery model that takes into account local conditions.

My two cents on Inxeba

I Have just seen iNxeba ...here is my two cents....its an incredibly powerful and moving film...it would have to be to arouse such emotion...it has nothing to do with exposing secrets of initiation .. The background is incidental.
A good movie transcends its setting and becomes universal..compare with Deer hunter or Apocalypse now or Platoon...they depict universal themes against the backdrop of the american military. Many people were upset that they showed the american military in a bad light... But they didn't try to get the movie banned or protest against the movie. No one would say to you you have no right to comment on those movies because you never been in the american army.
INxeba is the story of two men who love each other in a time and place when it is not allowed and the tragedy that results from that. I believe that anger at the film has nothing to do with the fact that cultural secrets are being exposed but because it dares show such love in a place which represents the heart of traditional masculinity. It is a universal story set in an African setting It also shows some of the most intimate and shocking images of man on man sex outside of pornography. Another reason it arouses so much anger
It is not a happy story and I agree that with some of my friends that more positive and celebratory stories of African gayness do exist and need to be told. But this story also needed to be told.
I believe this movie puts other movies it has been compared to...like moonlight...to shame and it will go down as a classic of African cinema

The Disease of Addiction

There is much debate about whether addiction is a disease or not. I believe that the disease model is both a useful analogy and far superior to previous models of addiction. However it is my opinion that this disease is located not in the individual but in the society. Addiction along with poverty, war, greed, scarcity, hatred inequality and much else are symptoms of this disease. We as drug users, both in and out of recovery along with the poor, lgbt and trans people, women, indigenous people and all other marginalized and subordinated people are merely the carriers of the symptoms..... That is why we are despised and hated by those in power and supporters of the status quo. Because we are s reminder of just how sick the world has become. However we also carry the cure......

Peter's Story

My name is Peter. I am 21 years old and I am a whoong  addict. I was born in Scottburgh in GJ Crookes. I lived in Amahlongwa mission. When I was small I was staying with my mother and my grandmother. My mother was a big alcoholic. She was drinking so much. She was always coming drunk in the house.  My grandmother didn’t like that, because she was coming shouting all the time, screaming. She didn’t  do the right things everytime because always she was drinking. When I was still small, around 9 years old she left the house and did not come back so I stayed with my grandmother. My father died when I was a small child. I never saw him… never know him.

I have brothers and sisters, but they weren’t  staying in the house. They used to have their own house. They were much older than me. My small sister is staying with us.

  I carry on staying with my grandmother. She is starting to get sick now. She is getting older. She cant do nothing even if she wants to. If she wants to go to the toilet I must help her. If she wants to go to sleep I must help her. I was always the one in the house helping her

I started to go to school in Amahlongwe. The teachers is telling me I’m very good in school. They say I must make sure I’m coming every day to school. The teacher is even buying me a uniform that I can come every time.

When I was about 11 years I start to smoke dagga and cigarettes. Up to that time everything is all right except we don’t  have money. My grandmother is only getting a grant, and from that she must look after me and my sister. Sometimes there is no food, but always I’m making sure I’m in the school. I liked it by the school. I have many friends, but in the house its just me and my sister.

So in grade7 I start to smoke the dagga a lot. I got a friend who was smoking it. He used to say the dagga is making you clever for school. He was in Rossburgh (another school) . His parents were rich they used to give him money everytime.so we meet after school. Sometimes he come early in the morning before school. I’m starting to come late in the school. The teachers start to shout for me. They say I must bring my parents in the school so they can talk to them.  So I told the teacher that my mother doesn’t stay with me, she is staying there in Durban. They let me stay and at the end of the year I passed.

In high school I went to Gugewesizwe in Amandawe. I was learning nice there. I was doing well.. I was playing soccer in the school and running. But I was smoking lots of dagga and soon it is starting to feel  like its not enough for me. Then my grandmother is telling me about my fathers family. My grandfather is staying in Mtwalume. So I find a way where I can meet them. We visit nice. They asked me to come stay there with them. That is my grandfather and my fathers brother and his children  So I wasn’t going to school that time. I got a friend there in Mtwalume . He was the neighbor formy grandfather. He was older than me. I was about 13 but he was about 25  but he look younger so the people they don’t say nothing.  He was smoking the whoonga. His name was Mpiti so its like we have the same name. He taught me how to smoke this thing. He’s chasing it on the foil. At first I am not smoking everyday so Im not getting the rosta. Maybe 2 or3 times a week. So I stayed there maybe 6 months. I was waiting to get my remove from Guguwesizwe so I can go to school in Mtwalume. But then one day they catch me smoking whoonga. So they say I cannot stay there if I’m doing this thing. I must go back in my grannies house. So I go back to Mahlongwa. Now I am not having money to buy whoonga all the time, but if I got some money I buy it. I’m there but I’m not going back in the school. I’m helping my granny in the house.

At the end of that year I go to Umzinto. This is now I am 15. I meet a friend and I stay with him there in the jondolos (shacks). He got a house there. He is pushing the trolleys and pantaring (begging) there in the street. Now I start smoking whoonga all the time. Umzinto is full of people, its easier to make money there. I stay there maybe two years, pushing trolleys, selling fruit by the taxis, pantaring, living in the jondolos.

When I was 17 I went back to stay by my granny in Mahlongwa. My sister and my aunt was now back in the house to look after my granny. They start to talk to much. I’m eating the food, finishing it…They complaining there’s no money. So after a few weeks I went back to Umzinto.

This time I was fighting  with me friend in the house. He was telling me I’m not bringing enough money. He chased me from the house so I went to stay in the streets. There is a place they call the flower hotel. Lots of guys is staying there. All the paras (whoonga addicts). After one year Umzinto is getting too small. There are to many paras. Also the mammas is wanting to give me a hiding because I’m taking fruit to sell and I’m not bringing them the money. So I cant go to the taxi rank. So I walk away from Umzinto and I came to Scottburgh now.

Scottburgh was nice. It was full of white people. They have more money. Some of them don’t like you and chase but some of them they got big hearts.  First I’m not moving on the streets. Im taking stuff there in the back by Checkers and taking it to Amandawe to sell. Checkers is giving away the old food. I did that for about a year but now the paras are working there inside, and they are taking the stuff.  I start coming to do the car guarding and collecting the cans. Me I don’t do bad things. I never went even once to jail. I don’t steal I work for my money. People don’t like paras they think they stealing but me I don’t do that.

Then last year I met these guys from NA and I started to go to meetings. NA has helped me a lot . I used to have sores on my face , to be dirty and walk around not talk to anybody. I used to always be sad, always  thinking what must I do now to make my life better. Maybe it will be like this till I die.  Guys in NA is getting me medicine, is giving me some hope in life. Now I have lots of friends, I feel happy. Even if I am still using, people are talking to me, they want to know me.  They are teaching me something called the steps to help me live right. I am learning that I cant stop by myself, I have to keep going to the meetings. I have to look at the things that are making me to use otherwise I will not stop but go back. Im learning to talk to  God again … I want to learn more about it so I can change more and leave this thing now, get a new life. Me Im still young, I need to stop this thing before I get too old. I cant . because this thing is controlling my life  ..I’m trying to control it but I cant. I want to stop, to get right. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life.