My journey in drugs, a user’s personal account

 “I was introduced to bhang by my close friend. He once bought a roll of bhang and asked me to smoke it with him,” says Sulubu, 27.

 “I could not hold the excitement I got from smoking the substance and it became a daily habit. As days went by, my friend introduced me to harder drugs.”

Soon he started using heroin, a drug they kept referring to as ‘unga’. But the burden of both of them using the drug became too heavy for Sulubu’s friend to bear.

 “It reached a point where my friend said we should now share the cost of buying the drug. I would give him Sh100 and he would also contribute Sh100 so that we could buy a sachet of heroin. One would go for Sh200,” he says.

His first-time experience with the substance was bad - he vomited a lot.

Sulubu says the same close friend introduced him to how to inject drugs.

Three doses

They came up with a routine, injecting themselves three doses per day - morning, midday and evening.

“I was really looking up to this friend, so whatever he used to do I would join in without asking questions. It developed into a habit, forcing me to stop going to school. Any small amount of money I would get, I would spend it on drugs,” says Sulubu.

His case is not different from those of other drug addicts, as lack of money pushed him into stealing and selling household valuables just to get money to purchase drugs.

“Other times, I used to steal things like sufurias to get cash. My friend and I were idle. These habits developed to stealing from shops,” he says.

If he went for a day without injecting himself, he would vomit, feel cold and have endless headaches. These are signs of the withdrawal symptoms commonly faced by addicts.

Sulubu was once rescued from a mob that almost burnt him alive when he and his friend tried to steal from a shop. His friend escaped, leaving him in the hands of the mob.

“Were it not for one conductor who took a photo of me and shared it with my crew at the drug den where I used to hang out, I would have been dead by now,” he recounts.

“We were breaking into a shop. At that time, I was a boda boda rider. My friend was a well-known figure around there so he escaped and I was caught,” he narrates.

Petty crimes

He has also been to prison four times for petty crimes. In all the cases, he was released on bond.

Sulubu hopes that he will get help from a well-wisher to quit using drugs.

Growing up in the Coast region, Johnson* started chewing khat in Standard Seven. It is a dark green leaf containing cathinone and other stimulants.

With strict parents, he knew his life was already outlined for him, to attend school completely and join the family business.

But things did not go as planned and his life took a major turn in primary school.

“My father did not like us working though he was a businessperson. He always asked my siblings and me to concentrate on our studies,” he says.

He was living in the Magongo area of Mombasa County at the time. From miraa, Johnson graduated to bhang. A friend who worked with his father introduced him to the substance.

“When I took my first puff, my body felt relaxed. I then took my second puff and started coughing continuously. I coughed to an extent I was sweating. A few minutes later, I had an unexplainable feeling, dizziness and the shirt I wore felt heavy,” says Johnson.

By the time he joined Standard Eight, he had graduated to heroin, or ‘brown sugar’ as they call it in the streets.

“I started with two doses per day, in the morning and evening. It was very strong compared to bhang, so I avoided a midday dose. When I first had it, I felt like something got stuck in my neck,” he says.

Coming from a well-off family, a primary school pupil obtaining heroin was not such a big deal in his area. He even had a supplier, who sneaked it from neighbouring Tanzania.

“I started dabbling as a dealer, selling off some of my portion for a handsome profit,” he says, adding that he used part of his school fees to finance this illicit habit.

In the streets, they had wholesalers or Bazi and retailers or Kaa, as they called them, selling heroine sachets. A gram would cost between Sh800 and Sh2,000.

Johnson managed to complete his primary studies without his parents realising what he was up to. He continued with the habit through high school, dropping it when he was in Form Four.

 “My big brother introduced me back to heroin. He was an addict and could not go a day without it. He was selling mangoes from our farms to get the money to buy the drug,” Johnson says.

His father then decided it was time he got a job.

“I was supposed to travel to Saudi Arabia, but weirdly enough I left my passport with the agent just before boarding the plane. I had a feeling if I travelled, I would not have access to heroin,” he says.

At this point, he knew he could not live without the substance.

He then fled to Nairobi, where he joined a criminal gang.

“I had started mixing drugs. Each time a friend mentions a new drug I would go out of my way to give it a try. The drugs would then influence me to either rob or break into people’s homes,” says Johnson.

Most of his friends ended up dead in mysterious circumstances, including overdoses and mob justice.

He feared for his life and fled to Machakos, where he continued his life of drugs and crime. He ended up in prison.

“There is no word like recovering. However, I’m trying my best to reduce the number of drugs I abuse,” he says.

His case is not different from that of Murath Salim, who was born and raised in Mombasa. He says he has even mixed whisky and heroin to come up with his own concoction of drugs.

He is a victim of childhood trauma. His parents divorced when he was young, pushing him into drugs.

“My mum and dad separated. I was introduced to bhang in Standard Four by a house help, who told me that if I smoked I would have a good appetite,” he explained

“When I smoked bhang for the first time, I coughed and laughed too much. Later on, I would introduce it to one of my classmates. We would hide and smoke together,” says Salim.

Salim says he was not good in school, something that pushed him to skip class and go to the beach.

“When my father became broke, I went to work for my grandfather, who would pay me Sh1,250 a day. I used to buy khat and alcohol with the money,” he says.

At 17, his habits started becoming a major problem for relatives and he was sent away from home.

Injection

“I stayed with my friends, where I got exposed to other drugs I had never seen before. We were calling them roti and ash. We would mix the drugs with cigarettes, and would either smoke them or inject ourselves,” says Salim.

“I developed an interest in the bhang look-alike drug. I asked my friends how to get it. I was asked for Sh100 and after a few minutes it was brought,” he says, adding that he graduated to heroin.

Most people go to rehab for help, but that did not work out for him.

“We would share syringes and needles in there just to satisfy our needs,” he says.

He was kicked out of the rehab centre and his homestead became graveyards.

“I was injecting myself around cemeteries because I knew if I died there, I would just be buried,” says Salim.

He is now a recovering addict, but his daughter and granddaughter are addicts.

“When my daughter was being raised I was not aware. I was moving from one place to another with little knowledge of my own life. My firstborn daughter had already gotten into the drug world,” Salim says.

 “I had arguments with her mother and now I cannot even help her. She is married and has a daughter who is six years old. The other day I received a phone call saying the six-year-old is now drinking alcohol.”

To stay sober, Salim volunteers at the Reach Out Centre Trust in Mombasa, where he works as a messenger and a peer educator for other addicts.