“Hello, my name is Ann and I am your counselor”, I heard a voice say.
My mind was in my mind, I had no time for real time. Literally, I did, but I had compelled myself to believe that all the occurrences of last month were simply a Facade. Had the voice carried no effort to be distinctively sweet, I would have peacefully wanted to continue peering through the window to the green sight it presented.
“Come on now, let’s all sing it out”, Ann said.
She seemed to have had quite the effect on the rest of the people that sat in our circumference of chairs, because they instantly broke into chants of “I won’t go back, I threw it all in the dump sack“, “ain’t no party, like a rehab party”
“I am so pleased to have a new handsome young man in our family. please introduce yourself and feel free to share your story”.
She had suddenly looked in my direction, right into my eyes. She had a very pretty face whose beauty percentage accelerated whenever she smiled while exposing white glittering teeth. I guess all I needed was this motivation to return to real time.
“Hello, my name is Aquila and I am…. I am an alcoholic” ,I said in pain and frustration.
When they all said hello back, I cursed them all out.
“Shut the fuck up, you boring bunch of shitty looking scumbags”. My mind said
The place was weighing me out already. My friends had brought me in last night. I was so agitated, bored and most of all broken. This is no good combination of emotions if you ask me . I was beginning to creep back into the mind in my mind.
Everything was perfect the previous months until the last one. I had drunk more liquid than an elephant. I was an addict, I was alcoholic. The CEO of ANI Organisation was an alcoholic. I had never believed in change this quick.
Throughout my life, I was a complete teetotaller. I could never take a sip of vodka when my friends could say let’s celebrate. 2015 African Entrepreneur of the year award came with access to countless glasses of Bourbon, but I turned that part of the offer, down. It was so Ironical that I had turned out this way, well unless you knew my story.
It was Amanda, wasn’t it? Yes it was her. That filth of a woman. I was spending thousands of pounds on her economics course at Cambridge university. In her mind, I had ceased to be her fiancé, but a benefactor because she had found herself a Nigerian boyfriend.
In the mind in my mind, I was thinking I would have handled it better if I had not taken that flight to England just to prove the stories for myself. I was in Manchester for a few days to her ignorance. I had caught her ,while her new boyfriend murdered her womanly parts in cold blood with his pleasure weapon and bare hands. I couldn’t continue hiding in that closet seeing my fiancé responding submisively to this alien. I was so flustered and developed instant massive indignation, that I was soon out kicking the man in his balls.
I was held in a cell for a few hours before the Zambian ambassador came for me. She told me Amanda was badly injured though she and her boyfriend pressed no charges.
“Mr Stresemann you need to put yourself together, the president knows about this” ,the ambassador told me in a serious tone, with a serious face.
“I’m very sorry Aquila” she said, kindly this time..
The few weeks that followed saw me in LivingStone. My room service came from an outside kid who brought me all the bottles I thought could do the cure or atleast hide the pain. I was soon about to begin the powder, but Mwamba found me and the rest of my friends decided it was time to get better.
I was the chairman of Curb Teenage Drinking Zambia last year and even as I looked at Ann and the rest of these people, I knew I was broken, not because I had lost all my Jobs, not because the president was disappointed in me, but because I had lost myself, because my mother didn’t raise me this way, because I wasn’t the good uncle Aquila to my nephews.
As I sat in the circle, I knew it was going to be a long ride.
THE STORY OF JAY by Bharti
“Hello my is Jay and I am a coccain addict,I have been clean for a day now ”
It was in the dawn of a friday morning I had too much paper work to do,I wanted to clear my head.I called John he told me to go over to his house he was hosting a party.
It was nothing like I have see before,so many beautiful faces,good music,nice food and I said to myself it is going to be a good night.
Stuck in moment John pulled me over to his table he told me he had something that will lift my mood and spirit,
Watching him about to sniff,he asked me”Want to give it a goal?”
Without hesitation,I did then
Next thing I am opening my eyes in the morning on my bed at home.
Slight headache,I am in my boxers,pale face,no shirt,I don’t remember drinking but I see bottles around.
Trying so hard to remember what happened last night,
All I can see in my head is a flashing light,
Re collecting my memory,
No clear picture but I am sure it will be quite a story,
Fast forward,unknowingly it became a diary thing,
Whenever I felt lost in this world,I would sink my self to that routine,
You never admit its an addiction,
But only a moment of weakness that has you sinking.
My family became the enemy,
Everyone around me was over suddenly afraid of me.
At first I thought it was something wrong with them,
but with time I got tired of this blame game,
I admitted I was the one who needed help and I was being unfair,
This is my Drug Addiction Story,it is all I had to share.
NB: Bharti and I finally did a collaboration and we just wanted to address the issues of alcohol and drug addiction. I am always willing to work with any Zambian blogger or anyone from around the world. ☺Please visit Bharti Here .From the piece, you can tell he is a poet.
Hope you enjoyed. ☺