Our Sponsors are an important foundation of our online community. Please visit their websites.
Our Associate Sponsors provide valuable support to our community and help build 'The Wall'.
Our partners help move the Wired In agenda forward.
Join our community, create your own profile page, and communicate about what matters to you.
Two thirds into my sentence the cells did not open. This was the sign of either a strike by the wardens, a murder by a gang member or a suicide – as the prison worked on a clockwork schedule that did not alter. I remember the excited buzz in the cell as we waited to hear the news of who had died or who had stabbed who.
The cells opened about thirty minutes late and in walked two men in suits.
The suited gents said that they were from the Gideon’s and that they had testaments that we were free to take and read. They spoke for a few minutes but I don’t recall what was said. I was disappointed that there had been no drama in the prison, it was just these guys.
After they left the cell was opened for us to go and get breakfast. I don’t know why but I went and got a testament from the table outside my cell. I waited for the other inmates to go for breakfast first as I didn’t want to be seen. I hid the testament under my pillow and went on with my day.
The doors are locked at 15:30 every day and lights go out at 21:30. It is dark in both summer and winter in South Africa at this time. I lay on my top bunk (a privilege of being a high ranking gang member) and I took out this book I had received.
I knew my life was a mess, it had been for some time. but that was just the way things were. That was the hand I had been dealt. I began reading Mathew, the lights were off so I read from the searchlight in the yard, and there was silence in the cell.
I prayed a prayer, probably for the first time in my life, and said to God that I was sick of trying to make my way through the life I had made. Tired of the trouble, the loneliness and the constant internal fear. I prayed that it could be different. I prayed that if there was a God that he would make himself known to me, and then I slept.
The next day I was called by the section guard. He said that there was a Captain that ran the school, who had heard that I did magic tricks and wanted to speak to me.
I remember shaving for the first time in months. My untidy beard had become full of dried glue from the sniffing. I took a shower from the pipe in the wall and welcomed the freezing water cleaning the weeks of dirt from my body. I looked into a makeshift mirror made from stainless steel and saw myself for the first time in many months.
The meeting with Captain Thomas was a life changing moment. He was a Christian man and, when I look back, I see I found a mentor the very day after I had asked. Captain Thomas saw something in me and believed in me, it was the first time in years that a human had cared.
He wrote a report to the head of the prison and took full responsibility over me as a security risk. Resulting in me being given a work pass. I began working at the school, which was outside the maximum security section of the prison, teaching inmates magic skills and literacy.
The new responsibility gave me pride within myself and I kept away from the alcohol and drugs, I said my prayers at night and the testament became a companion. I remember stealing a pack of playing cards from the prison library. And for the first time there was a voice in me telling me it was wrong. I couldn’t sleep until I had returned it and it was the last time I ever took something that did not belong to me.
Life after prison was not easy but my seed of recovery had been sown. There were relapses along my journey as I bumped my head against my own will and ego, but there was always a glimmer of hope.
Now eight years of sobriety show me evidence that I don’t have to use a substance today. Life is full of joy that I thought was reserved for other people who were more deserving than me. I am loved by a wonderful family and have real friends who accept me for who I am. The biggest gift I have received from recovery is an inexplicable inner peace born of truth, respect and love.
I often wonder about what triggers recovery – not that unusual within this community I suspect.
But there is something about human contact that is vital. While not religious I recognise the power of faith. But for me that is somehow personifed in our relationships with other human beings.
Hi ken,
It is a pleasure to read how you found your pathway to recovery. It’s also nice to see the value of religion and spirituality confirmed. Although nit a “believer” as such I recognise how spirituality has helped so many.
Indeed I believe that inner peace, respect and love are things we should all aspire to in our recovery. Glad to see your story ends on such a positive message
Matt
Pucker wonderful to read your journey, brought back many memories from many angles in my own journey, I feel privalged to have read all. I have never been in prison yet I can recall as a professioanal social worker in the field often visiting Felton and a similar situation happened there like you experienced.
I am atheists, yet I firmly believe some thing is looking after me, in many ways i feel we are “Miracles” in our own individual journeys.
Pucker for sharing, takes alot of inner courage, total respect this end towards you.
Inspirational Ken and an example of how people can touch our lives at a time when we’re ready to receive. Letting go and asking for God to take the lead can be a truly freeing experience for many. The last sentence of your blog is beautiful!
Thank you Ken. I think it’s so interesting that having someone believe in you has such a powerful effect. We all need to remember this when working with clients, or other goup members, regardless of the path to recovery people take. Thanks again.
This last instalment has left me wanting more. A bit like when you finish the last page on a brilliant book.
I’ve been inspired by your writing style and the sheer drama of your story and I so identify with the moment of change, which for me was when a fellow “inmate” in my treatment centre handed me a Bible. I didn’t convert to a particular faith, but I realised I needed to come home spiritually.
I’m not religious, but I do believe in a Higher Power and believe that spirituality is necessary for recovery; that it doesn’t particularly mean organised religion (though that is fine too), but it does, as Michaela says, involve connecting to other people. Addiction robbed me of all that connectivity.
For me my spiritual journey has been about connecting to myself, to others and to a power greater than myself.
I am really moved to have read your story.
Ken K wow! glad to have you here as part of the community, a real asset and strength x
