REEFER SADNESS

Pot Club Bust Sends ME Onto the Street to Score

I am member 022 of the Toronto Compassion Centre. Not that it will do me
any good now. Last week the feisty little organization at Bathurst and St.
Clair that supplies medical marijuana to 1,200 of us who endure the daily
pain of AIDS, hep C, MS, bipolar disorder and more was busted by Toronto's
finest.

For five years this fearless pot pharmacy navigated the messy business that
has become federal marijuana policy. But when drug officers from 13 and 53
Divisions battered down the door on August 13, with their guns pointed,
hundreds of us were suddenly sent back on the streets to scrounge for our meds.

At our revered Compassion Club, purchasing medicinal doobies was not unlike
having a prescription filled at a neighbourhood drug store. The difference
was that the herb was often cheaper than meds peddled by pharmaceutical
companies. My own monthly regimen included $200 (less than an ounce) for
marijuana and $35 for kava kava and St. John's wort.

I suffered a terrible flare-up of arthritis this winter, and my
pharmaceutical bill, footed by Ontario's drug benefit program, staggered in
at an impressive $445.14 a month (Celebrex $88.97, Effexor XR $109.84,
Zyprexa $220.84, Cytotec $25.49).

The kingpins of the Compassion operation, Warren Hitzig and Zach Naftolin,
should be awarded honourary Bachelors of Science for their knowledge of
medicinal weed. In a busy week, they'd speak to between 500 and 600
patients -- currently Health Canada has only granted 806 people
country-wide status to burn corn legally.

The centre provides its members with detailed analyses of the various
strains; a message board in the back room offers a percentile rating of how
much sativa or indica is present in the bud. This vital information is
especially useful for those who keep a daily health log. Members who
require a more uplifting, appetite-inducing high prefer to toke sativa
breeds, while some, like me, desire the meditative body stone of the indica
strains.

Now I've returned to scoring green on the street. With not much luck.
People ingesting for medicinal reasons require a steady, consistent supply,
plus information on what strain they're purchasing. Having used the
centre's simple, effective service for so long, I've forgotten the street
lingo needed for scoring. "Which one is more?" I ask a dealer when queried
whether I want a "lid or macaroni and cheese."

Next time I'll bring the handy slang dictionary provided by
www.whitehousedrugpolicy.gov. They've identified 2,300 slang terms for
specific drug types and activities, of which 588 directly relate to marijuana.

According to the site, a lid is "one ounce of marijuana" while macaroni and
cheese is a "$5 pack of marijuana." At the club I used to purchase my
medicine in $10/gram increments, which is not typical of how street
dealers' pre-packaged sizes work. You can also forget about asking them
whether they're selling an indica or sativa strain.

Of course, the government righteously promised to become our dealer of
choice back in 2000 when pain sufferers won the right to access in that
landmark court decision. And while the feds awarded a Flin Flon, Manitoba,
company a five-year contract to grow the herb in an abandoned copper mine,
no government green has ended up in the lungs of sick people.

Health Canada says it is waiting for research studies but that they can't
be started until it is ascertained that the Flin Flon weed is "safe." That
means don't hold your breath. Department spokesperson Andrew Swift admits,
"It's taking more time than we anticipated, as safety is our first priority."

Professor and club lawyer Alan Young believes the foot-dragging has gone on
long enough. He's launched a a civil suit funded by the Washington,
DC-based Marijuana Policy Project to free the fed's medicinal weed on
behalf of the centre, Hitzig and seven other people he has worked with over
the years. Four of these people have current exemptions, two had exemptions
under the old Health Canada system but don't now, and the last person's
doctor won't fill out the new paperwork because doctors' insurers have told
them not to.

Waiting for the feds to take their royal time just isn't an option. Since I
met Hitzig five years ago at Chatty Patty's at Yonge and Wellesley, I've
been so much better. He promised to relieve my chronic arthritic pain, put
some meat on my bones and reduce the stress of being ill. And he made good.

Back then, this skater kid who was booted from George Brown's social
science program for his staunch belief in the power of the herb, had a
naive ambition. I was extremely skeptical, but still heartened that someone
was willing to take the risk of imprisonment for my health.

When the bust came, Hitzig could hardly believe it. He thought at first it
was another attack by masked hoodlums like the one last December that left
Naftolin with a concussion. Says Hitzig, "It's really ironic. After the
robbery we installed panic buttons. We couldn't see who it was on our
security camera, and Zach asked, "Should I push the button?' I told him,
"Go ahead.' Then I noticed on one of the officers' bullet-proof vests the
word "Police.' They went through the place like a tornado in a small town."

There is rampant speculation about exactly what led police to make the
raid. Young says it's especially disappointing since he believes the club
had a tacit understanding with officers at 13 Division. When the club
called police following the December robbery, he believes there were too
many officers in the building for any of them to look the other way and
pretend the club wasn't a pot service.

"I spoke with officer Lorna Jackson of 13 Division," Young says. "She said
they had to investigate the club. She stopped returning my calls in March,
so I figured the matter was resolved. What really upsets me is that we were
really upfront with them. I could have provided the accused, but they had
to come in violently. It's an enormously frightening experience."

Jackson cannot be reached for comment, but police media relations officer
Jim Muscat denies any sort of arrangement between the club and the 13
Division officer. "I have zero knowledge of that. Police seized a sizable
amount of hashish, marijuana and cash. Those arrested were charged with
eight counts, mostly from the marijuana, the last count being possession of
property obtained from a crime."

Young may be dismayed, but he's got lots of reefers in the fire, so to
speak. Besides the civil suit, he also has two court cases designed to
challenge the law before the nine justices of the Supreme Court of Canada.
He thinks there is a way out for the feds, similar to the abortion law: let
the marijuana law fall by the wayside and "the government can appease the
American zealots. It would be easy for Canada to say, "We didn't do it, our
courts did.'"

Fears of U.S. pressure aren't stoner paranoia. Bruce Mirkin of the
Marijuana Policy Project says his group is funding the civil case because
he believes it can be demonstrated that the U.S. is meddling in Canadian
pot policy. Both he and Young agree there are implied threats floating down
from on high in Washington.

"I'm 100 per cent aware that the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) sent a rep
to make a presentation to the Senate Special Committee on Illegal Drugs,"
says Young. "When U.S. government officials talk about increasing border
patrols, what they're really saying is "We're going to fuck with your
trucking industry if you continue to go in this direction
(decriminalization).'"

With all this pressure mounting from beyond the border, it's high time
people came out of the marijuana closest in a show of force. Just repeat
after me: "I'm green and I'm proud." Do it in front of the bathroom mirror
50 times to summon your inner courage.