DEALING WITH A GROWING DILEMMA

They live in a tight community, fond of each other, helping each other.
They are basically law-abiding people, but they smoke and deal in cannabis,
and the law says they are criminals, writes Glen Scanlon.

The city street looks perfectly normal. Row upon row of pastel-coloured
concrete, tilt-slab buildings. The neighbourhood is quiet and no-one looks
out of place.

I park The Press car 200m down the road. I hide my notebook, pen, and tape
recorder in a pocket. I don't want to look suspicious.

One business in the street has just delivered an export order to Turkey,
and demand has risen more than 50 per cent since the last election.

The building echoes with the sound of power tools. Inside a man, wearing a
hat and workman's clothes, is making hydroponic units. Half-completed units
lie on the floor.

Another man sits in the back office, on the telephone to a customer.

It all looks perfectly normal, except this business supplies equipment to
cannabis users, dealers, and growers.

I take a seat in the back office. It's barely a metre wide. A computer sits
in a corner, along with a heater, a wall planner, and an ashtray full of
burnt out cigarettes.

Steve and partner Nathan run this well-established business. Steve says the
business is growing, particularly since Labour was elected.

They move a "unit" every business day. The units consist mainly of
electrical wiring, heating, light bulbs, and irrigation equipment. They
range in cost from $1000 for a basic set-up, to $5000 for a
top-of-the-range model.

All payments are in cash. Billing is not a safe option.

Steve says they are scrupulous about book-keeping because their greatest
fear is an Inland Revenue audit.

Nearly $200,000 turnover

Turnover is nearly $200,000 a year, and they will soon need an accountant
to do their books. They hope to make a living out of their "investment
project" by next year.

The Internet is their latest boost to sales. That's where the Turkish
client came from. He paid more than $3000 for his "unit".

The Internet site includes a list and picture of most of the products on
offer, growing instructions for what are euphemistically called "herbs",
order forms, a question-and-answer service, links to other sites, including
one called cannabis. com, and even a competition to win a unit.

"We sent a bulb to Finland once. I couldn't believe that guy couldn't buy
it anywhere closer. It was just one light bulb." Steve chortles, his eyes
twinkle.

They will sell equipment to gangs, but avoid getting too involved because
favouring one gang is not good for business.

Their main customers, Steve estimates 20 per cent, are individual growers
and dealers. Most come via word of mouth.

We are interrupted by Darren, a student, who bought a unit last year to
help him "get by".

Darren started smoking pot when he was about 13 and is now at university
doing a social science degree. He's mainly into personal use but makes
about $1500 from each of his six harvests annually.

"It makes it easier. WINZ didn't pay until week eight of the first semester
and in reality how do I get books at $100 each?"

He carries small amounts of cannabis and deals to students. All deals are
cash up-front. Darren never banks money, and most of it goes on weekly
expenses.

Darren lives by himself because his old flatmates were more of "a liability
than an asset". He believes the gangs are still influential, but a growing
class of entrepreneurs are making a lot of money from indoor hydroponic
operations.

Steve agrees. "The gangs once had it very sweet because they just about had
it all to themselves because all the large commercial growing was happening
outdoors.

"This is now less favoured because they don't generate the quality the
market wants and there are ... armies of people out there who've made a job
out of stealing plants."

Steve says last year a man came into the store showing off a hand-held
global positioning device. The man went on bush walks, and every time he
found cannabis he entered its position on the machine. At the end of summer
he went back and collected it all.

Steve says the highest quality hydroponic dope can fetch up to $350 an
ounce, but from the bush the maximum is $250.

There are risks. Darren has been convicted on minor possession charges and
calls the police rude and obnoxious. Steve nods in agreement.

Darren wants full legalisation. He says he will continue to grow cannabis
when he's got a job, to supplement his income.

The telephone rings and Steve answers with a polite "name of the business",
can I help you.

"That'll be about $100 to $170 for three-metre lengths."

He hangs up and the phone rings again. This is a busy place.

In the workshop the next cannabis user, grower, and dealer has arrived,
with a friend.

Diana is well-dressed, a solo mum in her 40s, a respectable-looking
citizen.

She laughs nervously and says she began smoking cannabis when at high
school and first grew the drug a long time ago in Dunedin. Most of her
growing is for personal use.

However, she grows about 14 plants in a spare bedroom five times a year.

Diana sells about $300 to $400 worth of cannabis a harvest. Most of her
customers are old friends, but she gets somebody she trusts to sell surplus
cannabis to other people. She says the money is much-needed.

"It helps supplement the benefit and helps out heaps because I don't need
to buy my own smoke."

Diana has four "bongs" a day. She has been on the methadone programme for
20 years and has also been prescribed valium.

Her daughter knows of her drug habit.

Diana says she'll be surprised if her daughter takes up cannabis, but
admits she is worried by how many young people are using the drug.

"I lived up in Auckland for a while ... and was smoking with my friend's
son who was nine. I was shocked."

She wants the drug decriminalised but believes some of it should be
controlled.

I ask if she ever wants to stop using cannabis. She says she has other
things to kick first.

Another smoker

Steve has organised one more person for me to see, but we have to go to
him.

Shaun lives by himself in a suburban home. We wait in the hallway while he
talks to someone. On the stove a pot is boiling and a packet of prunes lies
open.

A nurse comes out and we wait a little longer while Shaun puts on his
dressing gown.

He rolls out to greet us - in his wheelchair.

Under the gown his legs and feet are red and bandaged, his hands gnarled
and pained. Shaun has a progressive terminal condition, which is in an
advanced state.

He didn't use cannabis habitually before his illness and does not drink.
Now he smokes several times a day to relieve his pain and gives away what
he does not use to six seriously ill people.

He talks about them in a fatherly way. "These people are my community."

For Shaun cannabis is an easy choice. "If you don't you're using heavy duty
drugs that have heavy duty side-effects. If you're on morphine it dries you
out and you can't have a crap.

"Once your arse packs up you're dead, basically."

Shaun believes the law criminalises law-abiding citizens.

He calls the current price of $25 for three smokes a "bloody rip-off" and
believes legalisation will reduce the price and provide better quality
"gear".

As we leave Steve promises Shaun he'll be back soon. He says Shaun is a
great guy and a real fighter.

Steve, like Shaun, Darren, and Diana, has a big sense of community, one
that deals in cannabis.

They want to be recognised without persecution or prosecution, but their
fate is in the hands of the legislators.