“It is the Serenity Prayer that holds me together when my world feels like it is crumbling. I have fallen so many times, but where I am today is where I want to be – to live a day at a time,” Joseph Mwangangi Wambua, a recovering drug addict, says during our interview.
Wambua knows what it feels like to lose a jewel by selling it at a throw-away price, and to be later flooded with guilt. He says he has so far lost three jewels: his dad, three degree programmes, and his first wife – all after he drowned himself in alcohol, and later marijuana and miraa.
It took more than a decade for him to realise that sometimes, life unlike a football match where there is time for redemption in the second half, a loss can be for a lifetime.
Now, he finds solace in the Serenity Prayer, which was written centuries ago by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. He knows it by heart.
“I want the courage to change things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish those that can be changed and those that cannot be changed,” he says.
“You know, I cannot change everything,” he adds, another line from the prayer.
His discoloured teeth are an example of things in his life that cannot be undone. He links it to his long-term use of miraa and marijuana. He has also developed stomach ulcers, a condition he never had during his sober days – also irreversible.
He may have lost quite a lot in life, but his decision to live a sober life made him gave a different vantage point on life.
He describes his first sip of alcohol as “euphoric”, revealing that he had it when he was a Form Two student. He was influenced by friends who lured him to go for a “jam session” (afternoon music and dance session for teens usually held in clubs). He stopped, but later went back to drinking while at the university.
His addiction journey started in 2001. At the time, Wambua had made his parents proud by getting admitted to the Jomo Kenyatta University of Science and Technology (JKUAT) to undertake a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering.
“I was quite focused in the first days of campus until I got reintroduced to alcohol by my friends,” he says. His focus shifted when alcohol became his darling.
Despite landing a prestigious course after doing well in high school (he scored a B+), he did not live up to his parents’ expectations. When the bottle called, he answered. And, education became the least of his concerns.
“I rarely attended classes while in JKUAT; I spent most of my time drinking. In the first year, I failed six units and I had to be discontinued, but the school had an option of an external rewind, which, again, I failed horribly,” he says.
His father, now deceased, did not give up on him because he knew the potential he had. He transferred to another university, KCA, where he was to study to become a Certified Public Accountant (CPA). “The first days were okay and I attended classes dutifully. But, I backslid almost immediately,” he says.
“I used to leave home in the pretext that I was going to school, only to divert and go and quench my alcohol thirst. It was the first thing that came to mind in the mornings, and the urge was so strong that I always opted to drink instead of going for my classes,” he says.
In Wambua’s alcohol-soaked life, education did not carry any weight. All he wanted was alcohol, and the urge to drink kept growing with the passage of time.
His father started getting worried about his son’s future. He thought his son had become deranged or probably bewitched. Just when his dad was on the verge of giving up and letting him chart his own path, another idea on how to set his son on the path to recovery and success struck him.
He opted to enrol Wambua at the Kenya Prisons Service where he would train as a warden. There, his dad thought, with a strict environment and a long stay, the desire for alcohol that plagued his son would fade forever.
Wambua accepted his father’s push and went for the training. This time, he was off the bottle for nine months.
“I never took or even smelled alcohol when I was training to become a warden. It was the longest period I had ever kept off the bottle since I started drinking,” he narrates.
Unfortunately, leaving the institution unlocked old demons. After the training, he was deployed to work at Nairobi West Prison. Within a month, he had relapsed.
“It is then that I learnt that you can stay for a long time without taking alcohol but given the opportunity to take it again, it is easy to start from where you left,” says Wambua.
His addiction to alcohol intensified. In 2007, when he married his first wife, he was still drinking heavily. The following year, he became a dad. But not even having a baby that depended on him could pry him from the clutches of alcohol.
It is in that year (2008) that his father took the last shot at educating his son by enrolled him for a Bachelor of Commerce degree course, still at JKUAT, but in a different campus. At the time, he was still working as a warden, but a string of disciplinary issues because of his drinking marred his work record.
“The first year of the BCom class was okay. I was still fresh in marriage and with a new job. I hoped to change for the better. However, by the second year, I was back to skipping classes, instead opting to go drink alcohol” he tells Healthy Nation.
“At work, I’d skive duties to go and drink. When I showed up for work, I was half sober, and that irked my bosses,” he says
By missing classes, he let about Sh71,000, which his father had paid for his first year of the degree course, go down the drain.
In 2009, the only person who was not willing to give up on him – his dad – passed on. At the time, it did not hit him that his dad had died trying to shape him, hoping that his last born son would change.
“His death started getting the better of me years later. My family was not stable. Had alcohol only affected me, I’d be fine, but, it affected even those around me, and that stung,” says Wambua. His mum developed high blood pressure because of him.
Eventually, his poor showing at work caught up with him, so he was transferred to a different station, his bosses hoping that he would change.
In Embu, where he was transferred, he found friends with whom he engaged in drinking escapades. It is while here that he developed stomach ulcers.
“At some point, I went to hospital and I remember one Dr Njiru warning my ex-wife that I was going to die if I continued drinking alcohol the way I did,” he says. “I was diagnosed with H. pylori and it affected my health so badly,” he adds.
It is in the same year, 2014, that he hit rock bottom. His son was six years old at the time and needed to join school. He had sired another child and so his family had grown, yet all the money he earned paid for alcohol.
“I remember calling my sister and breaking down on the phone. She listened as I poured my heart out. As a family, they agreed to take me to a rehabilitation centre,” he says.
For three months, Wambua stayed at the Asumbi Treatment Centre in Karen, Nairobi. After the rehab programme, he was transferred to a different station.
“You cannot live in the same environment that made you sick,” he says
While in Machakos, he got married again, to the love of his life “who understands that ‘for better and for worse’ is more than just words”.
“My wife is a blessing, I told her my story even before the relationship had matured and she accepted me with all my flaws,” Wambua says.
A year after marrying his current wife and seemingly stabilising, he enrolled for a degree course in Procurement and Supply Chain Management at the South Eastern Kenya University where he attended evening classes.
Wambua had sobered up. He even opened a business for his wife and the two were thriving as a family.
“It is at this point that I learnt that sobriety comes with gifts, and my family had reconnected once again. Together we lived with my children from the previous marriage,” he tells Healthy Nation.
For almost two years, he recollected his life and vowed to leave his sordid past behind. At work, he even received a promotion to become a court officer. He was thriving.
By happenstance, while still in Machakos in 2018, he had a rendezvous with an old friend who rekindled his bad habits. His friend gave him bhang. He was a bit reluctant, but he was convinced to take a little bit of it.
“I quickly developed the urge to smoke, but since I had reformed, I told myself that I was only going to smoke once a week – on Fridays,” says Wambua. It was not to be, he lost all control over the use of the drug.
His wife did not notice his new love for marijuana. He, once again, became truant at work.
“I became a slave to the two drugs. I started being manipulative and would con people just to get money to buy more and more drugs,” he says.
“I used my position as court officer to extort money from desperate people who had court proceedings. Civilians somehow trust that men in uniform can help solve their problems. I, however, used the money to finance my addiction,” he reveals.
At this point, he could not even pay his rent. He, together with his family, had to relocate to the prison staff quarters in Machakos. His wife’s business also collapsed. He could no longer pay school fees for his first two children and so he sent them to the village to learn in a public school. He had two more children from his new marriage, but they stayed with him since they were too young.
“My ulcers, which had stopped being a problem, resurfaced. I was also demoted at work to general duties,” he says.
Wambua had now fit into the cross addiction category. He says that while he had completely stopped taking alcohol, the new found drugs dragged him back into his alcohol addiction.
This time, he did not seek help from family. Instead, he decided to go for another three-month rehab session that costs about Sh40, 000 in a month. He could not manage to pay the Sh120, 000 total on his own, so he sought the National Hospital Insurance Fund (NHIF) rehab package.
“I had to look for a rehab that NHIF would pay for, and I found the Retreat Limited in Limuru. Before going there, I underwent a detoxification session at the Chiromo Hospital.”
Introspection made him feel remorseful for all the things he had done because of his relationship with drugs.
His family had given up on him, and it took the intervention of the rehab for them to accept their “prodigal” son. And, despite him selling almost everything in his house, his wife did not leave.
“While in rehab, I wanted to find out what I can do to ensure I do not relapse. I decided to use my story to inspire change,” he says
After the three months lapsed, he was transferred to Jamhuri in Nairobi. It is while in Jamhuri that he realised that many families go through what he went through. He was given the platform to reach out to those affected and for a year now, he has been speaking to recovering addicts.
“In my reaching out, I have learnt that addiction knows no age or profession – it happens to anyone,” he says.
Addiction can alter one’s mental state, Wambua says, revealing that he has felt suicidal before.
“I always think that it is God that gave me a second chance at life,” he says.
“The paradox of all this is that I receive healing by reaching out to people whose shoes I was once in. I own that I am a recovering addict and it is only the scars of addiction that have helped me understand this disease,” he says
However, his end of the tunnel has a beautiful light as he is now back on his feet.
“I went back to school to complete my procurement degree. I now have my kids with me and we are a complete family,” he says.
He adds: “It is a gradual process, but to think that I can have a sane conversation with my mum is a beautiful miracle for me.”
Wambua’s older children are aged 12 and nine now, and he candidly talks to them about drug addiction.
“My children have seen it all and I pray to God that they do not end up like me,” he says..
