A sickler’s struggle with drug addiction

He is a man of small stature, and a mildly deep voice, but one thing stands out even more than this: his convictions. He is determined, as a recovered addict, to create awareness in the country about the nature of addiction. A very noble cause, given that the 2011 Uganda Police Crime Report noted a 79 per cent increase in narcotic crimes.

Part of the healing process for Peter Obenga has been understanding his addiction. He traces it back to his family that he calls an “alcoholic dysfunctional family” with a father that drunk too much and a mother that was left to support the family on her own. Obenga is also a sickler and describes his childhood as protected. He did not play. He was not punished. The little boy wanted nothing more than just to be a child, but got special treatment that limited his association with the children at school, in the neighbourhood and his siblings at home. High school, away from home and former classmates, was therefore his chance to get a sense of belonging. By Senior Two, he was smoking cigarettes and in Senior Four, he had graduated to marijuana. “I did not smoke because I like it. I just wanted to fit in,” he says. Naturally, he did not smoke at home and describes his home persona as saintly, in contrast to the “crazy” self that his peers were accustomed to.

“I have always wanted to be accepted,” Obenga says. Smoking and drinking brought with it an active social life that made him feel like he was one of a gang. At university, he felt more rooted in life when he was heavily drunk. I went to bed intoxicated and had more alcohol in the morning, to help me wake up. Before long, his body couldn’t handle any more of the alcohol and one morning on his way to work (he was fortunate to get contract jobs with companies while on campus that lasted about a year or two), he fainted.

Hospitalised over a blood clot
He was not very far from his home and good Samaritans helped him back to his roommate who called his mother.

“I had a blood clot, and was taken to the theatre for operation.” He stayed in Mulago Hospital for about two months or less, but when he walked out of the hospital, he left with one thought: that drug was… oh yes, that drug…

He told all of his university friends about the pethidine that he was given and the calming effect he still could not describe or forget.

Pethidine is a controlled Class A drug, mostly used in surgeries for massive pain and as a sedative. Obenga was given a maximum of three shots. The hospital incident shook him up though, and he cut back on drinking. So from 2002-2006, Obenga, who graduated in 2003, was solemnly a sober person.

He became a practicing Christian and speaks of the Kampala Pentecostal Church’s (now known as Watoto Church) play Heaven’s Gates and Hell’s Flames as a spiritual awakening. “I realised I needed God in my life,” he recounts. In this period, Obenga was not just a Christian; he was also a businessman who had driven cars from Toyota, Mitsubishi, BMW to Mercedes Benz by the age of 26. He started a car importation company and also a real estate agency. Eventually, he was too busy for church and was also socialising more often.

“I used the weekends to look for land and the evenings to hang out. For business, you know,” he narrates. It was not long before old habits re-emerged, uprooting from the church and lost direction again.

Turns to pethidine
The pains from sickle cells, he confides, are horrific. He said it feels like his bones are broken. His chest hurts too. Many hospital staff members know this and when he went in for medication, he used that to his advantage. He asked for pethidine. After that, there was not much looking back. He would spend about a week in hospital, faking the pains and got the drug. And when one hospital started suspecting, because it is a highly controlled drug, he would move to another. From the bar hopping, now it was hospital hopping. As the addiction grew, the monthly or weekly visits were not enough so he sought it out on the black market. For between Shs40,000 and Shs60,000, he would get a dose, which was 100mg.

“Initially, I took one, once a day. Then two. And then three.” How did he work? He worked during the day and then knocked himself out at night.

But by 2009, he was so addicted to the drug that he did not even work. Because it is administered intravenously, he made his work easier by having a cannula to keep his vein open. With the cannula, he just kept pushing in the drug. By this time, it had a short-lived effect and only knocked him out for less than five minutes. “So I just kept administering more.” He could not walk, or leave his place and had a boda boda cyclist do the deliveries. He sold off his property to feed his habit and borrowed when he needed to.

Fighting the evil shadow
His 2010’s resolution was to beat the addiction because while he was an addict, Obenga still hated his dependence on the drug. He had noticed his intake was much higher since he kept the shells and by the end of each week, he threw out about 100 shells, each originally containing 50mls of pethedine. Every shot was the last shot, and when he became very desperate and frustrated, he attempted to commit suicide. “I couldn’t control or afford my addiction. And the euphoria from the drug was short-lived.”

He approached Dr Emmanuel Sekasavu, a friend and told him about his problem hoping for help. The doctor referred him to Dr Margret Mungherera, a psychiatrist at Mulago Hospital, who would understand and help.

At the time, he was administering 20-30 doses a day. She counselled him and took him for detox where they drained his system of all the drug content. It took about two weeks and he was advised that it was not the end of the fight. He was told to check into a rehabilitation centre. The first week of detox was torture and he describes the hallucinations and the violent shaking from withdrawal. “I had to be tied down.” After the body’s initial shock, the withdrawal ended and when he walked out, he felt clean and energised. He had gone in unable to walk, but now he was full of energy and could stand on his own. He did not go to rehabilitation, as the doctors had advised and before long, he was back to his demon, pethidine. It was worse. “This time I would stock up. I got about 10 vidals in the morning,” he says. By noon, he had used them all and called again. Why would he go back? Well, his dealer kept calling to ask, “What’s happening?” because this was a business for him and he did not understand why Obenga was not buying any more pethidine. Even without the black market dealer’s pressure, it is hard to forget the effect of the drug.

Never gave up
When Obenga describes the euphoric feeling following pethidine administration, he makes you want to try it. The immediate effect, the peace that comes with it and the relaxation of the body, sound great but also as a former user, describes it well. Remembering all of this made it hard not to respond to the dealer. He sold off his car, the gadgets he had collected, his furniture, household items like the microwave and eventually the very mattress he slept on. He always thought he would easily replace them even when he sold items worth Shs2m at Shs100,000. He changed telephone numbers often because he sold off his phone and then, had to buy another each time.

Boda boda men were his friends, if not personal assistants. They delivered the medicine from his supplier and were in possession of his ATM card so they could make withdrawals for payments. “I think every day I sold a phone,” and the only people that would know his number would be a boda boda man and his faceless supplier.

He was ashamed of his habit and he tried to make an effort to quit again. Getting a job in Kayunga seemed like a perfect way to get away from the supplier that kept calling, but he quickly realised that Kayunga is only about 45 minutes away from Kampala.

Moving from the city instead of helping him, only accelerated the problem. “I fell sick due to that commuting.” Coupled with a bacterial infection from the needles, he was weak from not eating enough. He ended up in a wheelchair because he had decided to try administering via the veins in his legs. Dr Sekasavu saved him again.

After three weeks at Case Medical Centre, he moved back home to his Christian mother, who consulted the church and the pastor about the addiction. Under the mother’s roof, he continued to abuse pethidine and was continually frustrated that he was powerless over it. Eventually, he told his mother’s pastor that he needed more than prayers; he needed medical help. Remembering Dr Mungherera’s recommendation, he checked into Serenity Rehabilitation Centre in Bwebajja.

After four months at the centre, Obenga was a changed man. In rehabilitation, he had cognitive therapy to help him understand, counselling where he had one-on-one attention and group therapy for support. He is been off drugs now for two years and says he has only been able to arrest his addiction. “There is no cure for it. We can only arrest it,” he says. He worries continuously about the accessibility of narcotics, especially in high schools and the general lack of awareness in Uganda about the severity of the condition. Given the new understanding he has, both emotionally and intellectually, of the nature of addiction, he has decided to dedicate his personal testimony to helping others work through similar situations. He has written a book, Living in Another Man’s Shadow and speaks in schools and churches, and is an active volunteer in the Narcotics Anonymous group.

About the book
Obenga started writing his book, Living in Another Man’s Shadow, while at his mother’s home during his last addiction stint. It was originally intended as a suicidal note but ended up as an autobiographical account of a man’s battle with addiction.

Written in a raw first person narrative, the book recounts Obenga’s growing up as a sickler and losing his father and friends in his early childhood.

It has inspirational quotes and chapters end in a reflective paragraph that gives a lot of information about how that chapter ties into addiction. The last chapters of the book are completely dedicated to the nature of addiction, the different factors that are responsible, and tips on how to cope. He defines addiction with his experience and with factual information. In this book, you journey through his mind as he struggles not just to stop using pethidine but also to understand how he got to that point…

Drugs and the Law
Narcotic drug trafficking and abuse is unacceptably high. According to the 2011 Uganda Police Force Crime Report, there was an alarming 79 per cent increase in trafficking and consumption from the year 2010 to 2011. In 2011, 1,563 cases were reported and investigated compared to the previous year’s 871 cases. A total of 1,341 of those were taken to court and 2,054 males and 42 females were arrested and charged in court. The UPF, in their report, pointed out a deliberate targeting of children and youth in society. In addition to cannabis and heroin, a total of 210kg of other contraband pharmaceutical products were confiscated by police.

Currently, the average sentence for narcotic offences in the country is Shs240,000 ($100) to about $400 (Shs960,000). There is a bill, Narcotics and Psychotrophic Substances, before Parliament, which when passed, will allow for more deterrent efforts to fight against the illegal drug trafficking and abuse.

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