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News (Media Awareness Project) - Indonesia: A Day With A Recovering Drug Addict
Title:Indonesia: A Day With A Recovering Drug Addict
Published On:2000-06-25
Source:Jakarta Post (Indonesia)
Fetched On:2008-09-03 18:25:28
A DAY WITH A RECOVERING DRUG ADDICT

Robin, not his real name, 17, was born in Sydney to an Australian father
and Javanese mother before moving to Jakarta when he was 2. Since he was 12
years old, Robin's life has been ruled by the murky world of drugs, leading
him down a path of near destruction. Currently a resident of the Yayasan
Harapan Permata Hati Kita rehabilitation center in Bogor, West Java, he
talks to The Jakarta Post's William Furney. (Robin was unwilling to be
photographed for the story.)

"There are five people in my room and we all get up at 6:30 a.m., take a
shower, make our beds and get ready for the morning meeting. Although my
parents are Muslim, I don't have a religion right now, but I do believe in
God and I meditate.

During the meeting, we express our feelings and if we have a problem with
someone then we talk about it.

Afterward, we have breakfast which we cook ourselves, usually rice, chicken
and eggs, and get to chill out for half an hour. At 9:00 a.m., we do our
job functions, taking care of the house and cleaning it up.

As a junkie, I never cleaned my bed. I might have slept in the one place
for about a week, and I would have had a sandwich that was left there for
over a week. Cleanliness was not the most important thing, so changing our
behavior is part of the program.

There are sessions in the morning which talk about drugs, our lives and
anything we can relate to the disease of addiction so we can better
understand it.

I became involved in drugs through my older brother who was 18 at the time
and offered me weed. I was 12 years old and my life was all about laughing.
When I met weed it was a good dessert on the side and thought it would
spice up my life.

My parents had no idea I was smoking dope. Addicts are great manipulators;
we know how to play that one life where we gotta face our parents with red
eyes and everything but can still act like good people.

I hadn't been a smoker but when I took a hit it was sweet and I thought it
was good. It wasn't long after that I began to smoke weed in public. I
didn't care. If anyone asked what the smell was I'd say it was drum tobacco.

When I was 14 years old, I took some ecstasy at a nightclub and that was
like a feeling I couldn't compare to. I felt so good about myself, as
though I was constantly in love; everything seemed brighter and more
entertaining.

I thought the perfect high was with ecstasy. Once I took a heart and stayed
in a room with my friends all day. Our senses were heightened. Every drag
of a cigarette seemed like another high. Back then, one ecstasy pill was Rp
60,000 and we'd take as many as we could afford to buy.

The longest time we continually took ecstasy was for three weeks.

School was the last priority, even though I did go. For the first semester
in ninth grade I smoked weed heavily. In every class, I'd have a rocket.
It's a bottle and I'd go into the bathroom, fill it up with water and take
a couple of hits. I was up in space, completely dazed out in class. The
teachers had no idea I was tripping.

In the second semester I'd met ecstasy and when I started taking it in
school I was so motivated, I was raising my hand with every question.

I don't remember a day since I was 12 that I didn't take some kind of drug.

I tried putaw (low-grade heroine) once -- five hits -- and was out for two
hours. It was too mellow for me. I took shabu-shabu (crystal
methamphetamine) in the summer of 1997. The shabu dealers were so much
nicer; they'd say 'come in, sit down and smoke some'. You never say no to
free drugs. Shabu makes you talk; you become very social and turn into this
really nice guy that everyone can relate to.

When I started taking shabu, I met dealers that could get hash. And hash is
magnificent, man. When I went to Australia I got hydrose, which is hash
grown in a fish tank under ultraviolet lights. My high was so much more
intense. By this stage, I was just looking for the best high I could get
for my money.

I got money from stealing, from my parents, girlfriends and other people. I
never tried to take too much, but they could afford it. I usually took
about Rp 700,000 or a couple of hundred dollars. One time my friends and I
spent Rp 9 million over 45 days. I also dealt to get money, but I used more
than I sold.

Now that I'm learning, I think shabu is a harder drug than heroin. My brain
is messed up on it. If you put shabu on a piece of meat it burns right
through, so imagine what it's doing inside you.

I've never injected because I don't like needles with drugs. I saw a lot of
my friends suffer because of needles. But I did take heroin; I'd lace it
with weed, but not on a daily basis as I thought you became really
antisocial on it. By the end of 1999, I was doing cocaine frequently.

My immune system got really low and they thought I had mononucleosis. But I
just lay down and smoked weed, thinking I'd get better.

I knew I had a problem when I was 16. I was in eleventh grade and I
couldn't stop. I had no control over it. I couldn't go through the day
without using.

My friends were going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings and I knew I had to
get help. But I started using more heavily, double doses.

In October last year, I ran away from home for four months. I went to my
friends' houses all over Jakarta. You can't find an addict and my parents
and the police didn't know where I was. I had US$4,000 in my pocket and
forgot about school.

I came back home for Idul Fitri. By then, I was really messed up and needed
help. My parents were so shocked.

I'd lived a hectic life; it wasn't fun. I'd seen things I hadn't wanted to
see. I'd thought about ending my life. Now I wanted help. I wanted a new
life as I just couldn't live this one forever. I don't know how many nights
I spent on the streets with no money, thinking 'I come from a privileged
household'.

About a year before, I'd asked my parents for help. I remember sitting with
them and telling them I was high. They said 'no way ...' and went into
denial. My mom just paid some cops to follow me around. I offered them some
weed one day. But this time I really needed help and said 'take me to Bogor'.

When I checked in here I was still high but I haven't taken anything since
then -- and that's over four months now. At the beginning it was fun, I was
really positive. I thought I was clean. But one day, I became really
depressed and didn't wanna be here any more. The struggles are more mental
than physical. I have a lot of problems to deal with. It sounds weird,
right, but I hate myself more than anyone else. Guilt is huge and I don't
want to look in the mirror. But every day I say it's progress, not
perfection, I'm after.

There are more sessions in the afternoons, and they basically teach us how
to live again. We're all misfits.

I've stolen a lot of cars and slept with a lot of older women so I could
rob their houses, usually jewelry, when they were sleeping. I was always
looking over my shoulder but I'd get high to get over it. Those people were
bastards anyway. They had everything, nice houses, money and families. But
they'd still go out and sleep with a 17 year old.

In the afternoons, we can do anything we want (at the rehabilitation
center); play tennis, cook or read, just as long as we don't go through the
gates. There are more meetings in the evenings and afterward I just chill out.

I'm thinking about either going back to school or traveling; learning how
to live out there without my parent's support. It's something I don't know
if I can do yet. The present is very hard for me to concentrate on; I
really have to work hard not to think about it. I think about the past a
lot and hope the future will take care of itself.

I don't hate the last five years of my life; I hate what I was doing, which
was exciting at the time. I was on the edge.

I don't blame my brother for introducing me to drugs but I do blame my
parents -- I'm their creation and they brought me into a dysfunctional
family. I didn't learn any kind of morality from them. I can see it in
their eyes now that they feel guilty. It's not just that they get upset --
upset is normal (for them).

I get to bed by 2:00 a.m. at the latest. As I'm drifting off I try to see
who I can say thanks to; who has helped me and who has helped me drown.
Most of the time I was left alone and there were people there to help me. I
can't forget that. I can't have everyone's attention constantly, but just
to have someone's attention for a day, I think that's great."
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