This is the first of what I pray and believe is the beginning of a long series of what will be our mostly one sided interactions, as I share with you my escapades during my drinking days or using days.
Today, I’m eight years sober/ clean and I encourage all of you who are still struggling with addiction to seek help, so as to
avoid this death penalty that we sentence ourselves to by continuing to use those substances. I call it a death sentence, because inevitably a life of substance abuse leads to death.
At the age of 17, I had already been to police cells twice due to drunken behaviour. In the first instance it was because of fighting and the other for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
In our days (‘90s and early 2000), ghettos still rocked, mainly because they provided a safe environment for indulgence without the risk of being sighted or caught by parents, neighbours or any other ‘haters’ in the community. Our parents were the main tyrants of our era. Being caught in any wrongful act of indiscipline such as drinking, smoking et al, meant one’s behind had to suffer partial paralysis. The number of kiboko one would receive would leave you wondering whether these were truly your biological parents!
Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays were our happening days. Tuesday because it was campus night at our number one night spot
(Club Silk), Friday and Saturdays because we found them there when we came of “age”. Probably because most Ugandans don’t work on weekends, so they find it most convenient to unwind on those days.
On this particular Saturday, I started off with a group of friends from Middle-East ghettos in Bugolobi or Bugos as it is commonly
known. We took some quick shots of a local potent brew known as K to fix our ‘state of mind’ so as to boost our confidence which helped us easily fit into the already ‘charged’ crowd at the disco. Usually we would link up at our rendezvous between 11pm
and midnight. We met that late because we had to wait for our parents to fall asleep before we could escape. By around 12.30am,
we were already in Club Silk “sitting on the top of the world” little brats!
On most of these nights, the club was so packed that once in a while, one had to go out and catch some fresh air, puff a cigarette or even drink some cheap beer. So the boys and I decided to go out and do the same. We settled at one of the cheap booze stalls on First Street. Life was good, we had the money (mostly stolen from our parents of course), the swag, the girls loved us since we were in good schools, lived in affluent suburbs and yeah … not to forget the good looks (sometimes imagined due to the liquid in our heads). All these factors boosted our confidence and made us feel untouchable. So naturally, when a drunk came along and started insulting us, it was only good manners for one of us to stand up and defend the group’s honour.
My Mukiga friend took it upon himself to maintain the group’s honour and before I knew it, he was chasing the fella all over the street and knocked him down. This behaviour caught the attention of the police who used to hide in order not to alert potential law breakers of their presence. Therefore preventive arrest of nowadays is a blessing to many! Any behaviour that didn’t amuse the police, would either guarantee you a place in the ‘coolers’ or cost you some, if not all the figures in your wallet. That’s if you were lucky. Actually the most common offence in our days was behaving in a manner likely to annoy the police.
So my Mukiga friend with all his anger heightened by the liquid in his head and eagerness to defend the group’s honour ended up annoying the police. Police in those days was so swift in such instances, mainly because they did not want to lose the evidence (offender). In a flash, my Mukiga friend was in handcuffs and being led away towards Jinja Rd police station.
The liquid in my head told me, that having been a police guest on two previous occasions; I definitely understood them and had a right to caution them against arresting my innocent friend lest they provoked the wrath of our big shots in government. I bravely confronted the police and protested my innocent friend’s arrest, boldly stating that the police were corrupt and just after our money. I went ahead to assure them of the wrath of our ‘big shot’ parents that awaited them.
This act of bravery had the desired effect and earned my friend his freedom … but also cost me mine. His handcuffs were transferred to my wrists and once again I was a guest at Jinja Rd police station. I woke up later that day with a terrible headache and surrounded by strangers. A few hot slaps from these strangers ensured that I was alert and sleepy no more. I was told that I couldn’t be released on a Sunday but could as well inform my people. This is the point when reality checks in. Questions like these race through one’s mind. How did I end up here? What will I tell my parents? Why am I so stupid? I wish I had listened to my parents, I need to get saved… these and so many more. Supposing I end up in Luzira Prison?
One of the officers, who arrested me, passed by later that evening and asked whether I was still very strong and brave like earlier that morning? Such questions only earned me more slaps and knocks on the head from these strangers who were always eager to ‘impress’ the police with their ‘disciplinary’ skills. I managed to get a message to my mom through one of the policemen. She brought me food that evening. This food was promptly hijacked by the strangers, but though painful, it earned me some sort of respect from the cell leaders thus ending the beatings.
My mom returned the next day with the required bail money and secured my release but not before I was baptized ‘customer’ by one of the policemen, since I was becoming a regular in the coolers. I can only leave you to imagine what my dad did to me at home, but thank God I’m alive today.
So my dear friends, especially those still at school or still under your parents’ care, avoid anything that alters your thinking… alcohol, drugs et al. There is always a negative consequence to using substances.