Ken’s story - part one

I didn’t want to take that first hit because I was afraid that I may get hooked. My friend tried it first and said it was really nice and that I had to try this. I fought with an inner voice that said “don’t do it”. I had fought this same ‘inner voice’ thing on numerous other occasions – so I tried it.

I didn’t get hooked, I was fine. I had to show my girlfriend and we both tried it and I was fine. Only to be used on special occasions as you have to be careful. It took about three months for it to get me. That’s quite quick; it usually takes a bit longer but, get you it will. Crack is unbelievably addictive.

Being addicted to crack makes your everyday life an absolute hell.

Your mind becomes obsessed with thinking of nothing other than the drug. You can get by doing your job, having your relationships and generally living your life but in the back of your mind you always have a calling to have a hit. You can go for weeks or even months resisting, but it is patient and you will give in to its relentless call eventually, usually after a few beers.

When you weaken the pattern is always the same. You go to get a small amount, just one hit and that’s that. That first hit sets off a chemical chain reaction in your mind that forces you to have more. I use the word forces here because that’s exactly how it is, you have no choice in the matter. If you don’t have more, sickening panic wells up and consumes you.

It compels you by fear and panic to get more, there is no peace and no escape other than another hit to ease the torment. If I had to describe this feeling it would be like this.

Imagine your child or loved one falling in slow motion from the top of a building, imagine the panic. To save them you must grab them. How hard would you try to save their life? You would do anything in your power no matter what. You would be blindly driven by fear and panic. Well the feeling is like that.

This means you don’t stop until you have no money left. This can take many hours or even days. You turn off your mobile and vanish from the radar of life for as long as it takes. When you get out of wherever you are there are a lot of questions to answer and it doesn’t take long for people to notice that something is going on.

My girlfriend was convinced that I was having an affair. All the signs were there, the secrecy, being out of touch for a long time, breaking pre-made arrangements and lying to cover the truth. She was right in a way; I was having an affair, an affair with the devil.

I went on a three week road-show with the television channel I was working for. I had been instrumental in writing parts of the road-show and I was MC to a host of children’s television stars ranging in age from ten to nineteen years old.

The show toured all the major holiday destinations around South Africa stopping at Pretoria, Durban, Port Elizabeth and Cape Town with its beautiful powder white beaches and turquoise water. I became friendly with one of the programme producers and, after a long walk on the beach, we shared a marijuana joint and thus began a holiday romance.

She mentioned that she enjoyed the odd line of coke now and then and I promised that on our return to Johannesburg I would get her some premium quality Columbian from my Nigerian dealer friend.

A few weeks after the road-show I was sitting at home, tired of sleeping and bored. Just one quick hit and that would be all, I had after all promised a friend to get her some so while there I would just have a little to pass the day.

I stopped in at the television studios to get her cash for the score. It costs three hundred Rands, that was around thirty pounds, for a good gram of pure Columbian. She didn’t have cash on her so she gave me her ATM card and her pin code and I promised to return in about two hours.

Every time I was on my way to get cocaine I was physically sick, I would have to pull my car over, open the door and vomit. It was as if my body was trying to get the poison out even before I put it in.

The ritual was always the same, first stop was the local hardware store to get some insulation tape, half a metre of two core electric flex, the kind you use for a lamp and a twenty centimetre off-cut of brass plumbers pipe with a diameter of ten to fifteen millimeters.

Next stop was the general store to pick up a sachet of bicarbonate of soda, two Bick lighters and a small jar of spices. All this cost around ten Rands, that’s about a pound and then it was off to Hillbrow.

This was to be the bender that tipped the scales, after scoring the crack I tried it to check the quality, the chemical reaction started and I was not seen again for two days. I had drained the account of the programme executive so the money was finished.

The drug began to wear off and my mind began to clear, I had no illusions that that was the end of my television career and the only solution I could think of to save face was suicide. I had held up in a cheap hotel on the third floor, I opened the window and looked down at the car park and decided to jump.

My eyes were so full of tears that it was like looking through a fish eyed lens, I was so close to ending it all that day that I still shudder when I think back but something said NO. I went to my parents and was admitted to a rehabilitation centre.

This was the first of five rehab centers that I attended over the next three years….

To be continued….