Story and Pix by David Ogot snr. ©2003

Egotism or conceitedness, self-admiration, self-centredness, self-esteem, self-importance, self-love or self-praise, would all have been a good description of me back during the period when I still drank alcoholic beverages, but was still in denial over my alcoholism.

Everything was about me - 'I' want a drink now, lets stay mpaka che (until morning), lets just party with the money for the electric bill I will have money to pay next week, I am not coming home now, it's too early to leave the party’ and many other issues all revolving around me.

In fact to the above description you would be remiss to not mention, egotistical or self-important, self-admiring, full of oneself, always boasting and opinionated. That would come close to describing my behavior as an alcoholic in denial yet I felt, nay knew, I was right on whatever issue I happened to be holding forth on at the time. Whether this was in a bar or club or at a private function everyone had to know I was right (which was not hurt by nature of my being in possession of a very loud voice and which I was never judicial in using.)

Today as a recovering alcoholic I still put 'I' first (as I must to survive) but it is a different 'I' for it is a "I must remain sober - at any cost 'I'!" Thus anything, which would interfere with my sobriety, must be cut out of my life, regardless and there can be no compromise on this point - for as an alcoholic, to drink, is to die.

This then, in black and white with no Grey's in between, is the unenviable lot of an alcoholic who continues to drink, jail, a mental or health institution or death! 'I' do not want to die just yet especially a preventable death, ‘I’ want to live my life to the fullest not in a perpetual, rose-coloured alcoholic haze, 'I' want to finally begin looking after my family! To do this then 'I' must be sober! However still on 'I', 'I' am a human being and as a human being 'I' have a duty to alleviate pain and suffering in another human being if 'I' am in a position to do so. But the greatest thing 'I' can ever do in my life is to get the chance to bring happiness or to save another human life. There can be no greater honour or priviledge than this.

In Kenya we all constantly get chances to use our 'harambee' (pulling together) motto to help other human beings and even save lives. Indeed it is one of this country's strengths - one that has seen us through many trying and turbulent times.

Witness when Kenyans from all walks of life and ages need medical operations, which can only be performed abroad, how we have rallied around to help those in distress during disasters man-made or natural? Witness how we step in wherever a child is being battered or abused by a maid, or parent? Disregarding the risk to their own life and limb I have witnessed men and women fling themselves in front of an angry mob baying for the blood of a thief or gangster and say no, it is wrong. That is what makes us human.

It is in this same vein that 'I' too, now sober, wish to do my part. That is why ‘I’ ask my fellow members of the fourth estate in Kenya, when are they going to say 'I'? When are they going to say 'I' can help out here - 'I' have a duty to help out here? These are my fellow Kenyans, my relatives, my children, my parents, and my country; 'I' must help them.

Alcoholic beverages of all types from beer to illegal brews are causing unbelievable suffering in Kenya. Alcoholics and other consumers are dying almost daily from deaths, which are wrongfully attributed to accidents, various illnesses, murder and suicide. The sad fact is that they are also killing through accidents, crime and violence, innocent Kenyans many of whom do not even consume alcohol or any other drug.

But while we concentrate on 'curtain-raiser' issues like illicit brews, the so called second generation drinks, teenage drinking, and whether or not to legalise some of the banned drinks, we miss the real concert starring the drug called alcohol and the alcoholics. The myths and misconceptions, shame and stigma, the prejudice which surrounds the disease of alcoholism. Thus the disease continues to needlessly kill alcoholics while their families go through mind-boggling, excruciating suffering.

However we must all remember stigma and shame live in darkness. Prejudice springs from ignorance which in turn also dwells and thrives in darkness. To conquer these barriers to alcoholics and their families recovery we must drag these demons into the light, and not just any light but the most powerful light of all known to man - the truth!

The blinding light of truth will lay bare the essential facts, which shame, stigma and prejudice hide. For alcohol has been with us for millennia and probably will be for as long as man seeks pleasure or solace by seeking to alter his moods. So we must learn to live with it but only as we learn regulate its strangle hold on us.

But for that alcoholics, who albiet are the minority yet cause the most harm, must have help extended to them, they and their families have to be shown there is hope, that the disease can be managed. This silently suffering group who however affect a staggering 26 million other Kenyans, have to be shown that they are not beyond salvage, beyond hope, lost causes who everybody is ashamed of and loathes.

Yet loathed they are from the rural Kenyan market place, to world-renowned Nobel Prize winner Dr. Charles Richet a Nobel laureate in physiology. His opinion on alcoholics amply sums up most Kenyans general consensus on the subject. "Alcohol paralyses the senses, makes one lurch and vomit. Extinguishes the feeble glimmer of reason, which flickers in our poor minds. It soon overcomes the strongest man, and turns him into a raging beast who with empurpled face and bloodshot eyes, bellows forth oaths and threats against his surroundings and insults imaginary enemies. Never in any animal species, not among pigs, nor jackals, nor donkeys, is such ignominy to be found. The ugliest thing in creation is the drunkard, a repulsive being, the sight of whom makes one ashamed to belong to the same living species." (My emphasis).

This then is the mentality we have to fight. But it will be a long war of attrition, for deep in man's psyche through centuries of conditioning there resides a deep loathing, disgust and even hatred of the drunk. In spite of all medical evidence gathered to date, emotions rather than fact, darkness rather than light, still rule in the field of alcoholism. This debate primarily centered on whether alcoholism is a disease or not is of no practicable use to the suffering alcoholic.

What the alcoholic needs to hear is there is a way out. Every time he therefore hears the story of a recovering alcoholic he sees hope. Every time he hears about a recovering alcoholic going about his business seemingly without a care in the world, he is fired to encouragement. Everytime he reads a recovering alcoholic's story he realises that he is not "the ugliest thing in creation" nor is he "a repulsive being" but a sick one. Everytime she sees a recovering alcoholic's story, her thoughts of suicide fade away replaced instead with understanding and hope.

For it is these stories which tell the truth. It is these stories which will encourage families to come forward and say "I live with an alcoholic, I didn't know but now I know. Now I understand." As they do this other families will throw aside the heavy, suffocating blankets of shame and stigma and come forward with their stories.

Why did 'I' go public with my story and admit to being alcoholic given the fact that even Nobel Prize winners feel that the sight of alcoholics "makes one ashamed to belong to the same living species." Simple. Other alcoholics stories had shown me the truth. I now knew the truth and here I was in the unique position that maybe my story could bring some happiness to or better still, save another human beings life. And even if it was only one person, that would still be good enough for me. For each human life is precious. How then could I possibly, selfishly hang on to this truth hugging it to myself, for my use alone? How could I deny other Kenyans this truth which was not even mine in the beginning, but had been given so freely to me by others? 'I' had to share it for it was not mine to keep.

Being a journalist 'I' immiediately recognised the infinite possiblities inherent in the media as the most suitable vessel to carry this message to as many people as possible. Inspired 'I' sat down and wrote my story and articles to do with the ups and downs of recovery. 'I' wrote about the pain of trying to put back my life, of regaining peoples trust, of getting on with my children who through their entire lives had known a drunk and were now presented with a stranger who though he looked like their dad, talked like their dad, could not be their dad - for he was sober.

Painfully I made a documentary, with the proverbial shoe string budget, in which my wife with tears in her eyes, documented on film the hell she had gone through living with me for over two decades. Holding nothing back, so that others might benefit she dredged up horribly, painful and bitter memories, which had characterised our life together, sometimes breaking down and crying openly unable to go on. Still somehow she managed to find the strength to. Finally with the stories of several others the 40 minute documentary 'Nobody Kicks A Dead Dog',the first in a series was born.

Then begun the hope-filled round of the local T.V. stations, happy that 'I' was doing my part, but how very short-lived thta was as I soon got the breath knocked out of me when I ran full tilt into a brick wall of indifference, prejudice and denial.

All kinds of reasons under the sun were given for why the documentary could not be aired. One station boss even gave me a lot of time to explain what I was trying to do, asked for a copy of the tape, called one of his staffers to go have a look and see when it could be slotted into their programming schedule. I was then walked to the lift; business card tucked safely in my wallet with the admonition "call me any time you want to discuss how we can be of further assistance." I left that building walking on sunshine, hopes raised high again. It felt good to be really doing something worthwhile with my life again.

Six months later after repeated calls and still unable to talk to this 'understanding' station boss, I was brusquely informed by the secretary "Mr. Ogot we are busy, please don't call us we will call you." What about my demo tape? After a few more calls I gave up on that too. That was the second T.V. station to hang onto my demo tape. The second station to do this. I coudn't afford it. I had no sponsors, I had no funding, I hadn't won any lottery. All the while copies of articles I had submitted to various Kenyan Dailies, piled up on my desk, but rarely appeared in print. "We can't keep writing about alcoholism all the time," this by one lady editor, who I gently tried to remind that two articles in ten months hardly constituted "all the time." "Would you like your article back?" came the sharp rejoinder.

They probably ended up in waste-paper baskets of the various editors (I wonder where this one will end up?) But 'I' now ask the Kenyan media to put aside their preconceived ideas about alcoholism, for the disease and anguish it causes are bigger than we are. I say this for several of my inside contacts have informed me that there is a feeling that "why are we giving Ogot so much 'publicity?' I found that odd, for this is the kind of 'publicity' anyone in his or her right minds would avoid like the plague.

Where was the "prestige" and "publicity" in admitting to all and sundry the most intimate details of my personal life? Of admitting to the acts I committed while drinking? Of theft, lies, conning, gathering leftover beers in nightclubs to drink, drinking discarded flat beers, walking around for days with the same clothes (including underpants and socks) without showering. Singing in bars and street corners to get money to drink, and constant arrests and visits to the local police cells. Why would I want this publicised?

When I tell my story, it is not for 'prestige' but in the hope that others will be encouraged to come forward and tell theirs and gradually with constant attrition the stigma will become a thing of the past, the prejudice will fade and alcoholics will begin to find life instead of death. Hope instead of despair. It is that the families out there who live with an alcoholic will come out of hiding and look for help for it is there. Stop this needless suffering.

The Kenyan media is in a unique position to bring understanding to this most universal of diseases, yet one, which is most maligned and misunderstood. But to do this prejudice both personal and professional prejudice must be put aside. We must rise above this for as Tyron Edwards once said, "he that is possessed with a prejudice is possessed with a devil, and one of the worst kinds of devils, for it shuts out the truth, and often leads to grievous error." The Kenyan Media must note that prejudice springing from ignorance is soon set right with correct information. However prejudice sired by vested interests is harder to deal with. But in the end the interest of the suffering alcoholic must be paramount. For he or she is human, and in trouble, unable to help him or herself and doomed to die and it behooves us as fellow human beings to help!

To put the enormity of the problem into perspective, one alcoholic intimately affects the lives of an average six other people while a professional will affect a whopping 60 people. According to Father Kenney himself a recovering alcoholic, who has since left Kenya and who helped popularise Alcoholics Anonymous (A.A.) in this country, one out of every ten alcoholics is a professional.

He also estimated that there are two million alcoholics in Kenya meaning a stupefying total 26 million Kenyans are affected in one way or another by alcohol. Can we as a nation afford not to tell these stories? With HIV/AIDs now in the equation will there be anybody left to hear these stories if we don't tell them now? If we cannot tell a story like this, what stories do we really have a right to tell?

That is why 'I' have to tell my story. That is why the Kenyan press needs to start saying 'I' too can help pass these stories. 'I' have a duty to pass these stories. Let them gather them from other alcoholics, and tell them. Let them gather them from their famiIies' those who would speak and say "this is the way it was then, but this is the way it is now." If the truth too were to be known, I have been asked by several close friends not to write this article, for I not only risk antagonizing the press resulting in even the small trickle of my articles they sporadically print drying up completely but also it will have been an exercise in futility for this article too will probably end up in the bin.

Gravely, I had been informed that one never takes on the press. You can never win to which I reply, we are not fighting. Our battle together is with the stigma and shame surrounding the disease of alcoholism. We have to stop blaming the patient and start correctly, blaming the drug alcohol.We have to collectively feel passionate and say we can make a change. For if it is the medias role to be the public watchdog, to be the voice of the voiceless, defender of the helpless how much more suffering do alcoholics have to undergo to qualify for salvation from the Kenyan Media? That is my plea to them - and my challenge!

I myself am a trained journalist and producer. I am a published author, as well as a web-designer (better know as web-author). That is what I can do. If I were a sportsman, I would use sports to pass this crucial message. If I were an artist, I would use art as a platform. I am a media person and that is the only plank I have to launch this message. Coincidentally it also happens to be one of the most effective. To the Kenyan media therefore, I have thrown down the gauntlet - I have no choice!

While they ponder over this matter, 'I' have no option but to press on. For 'I' have nothing to fear except drinking again! To once again wake up in strange bars, pockets rifled and turned inside out, with no clue how I got there. To walk around in chang'aa dens with an empty glass, shaking hands and a pounding head begging a few drops from everybody so as to get enough of the brew to still the raging demons wracking my body. It is this talking too which serves to constantly remind me to be alert, never to forget (as I once did, with dire consequences) that 'I' am alcoholic and thus lower my gaurd.

'I' will talk wherever 'I' will be heard. 'I' will talk in peoples residences, offices; talk in schools. 'I' will talk in churches, mosques 'I' will talk at workshops, on the Internet '(www.goinghomedotcom.org') and on street corners if need be. But 'I' will tell my story, for then it will become others stories and their stories will become 'our' story. For it was these stories that helped get me sober and all 'I' can now do is to pass them on for others to use and in turn pass on.

It is war with no medals, or heroes or rewards. "No prestige" But the good media houses have always been brave without medals or rewards. For we should never pass up a chance to do good to a fellow human being when they are down and out and unable. The chance to uplift a downtrodden life, a despairing life. The chance to stand up and talk for and on behalf of a fellow human being who is unable to help themselves. That is what makes us human. That is what makes a good media house.

If there is a chance that my story might save a life, 'I' have to tell it. If there is a chance my story might bring some happiness then 'I' have to tell it. This is no longer the 'I' of ego and selfishness, but the 'I' of humility and understanding that the issue is bigger than me or my feelings of what people will think of me. With or without the Kenyan media for the issue is bigger than them too. For them I would leave some food for thought from Shopenhauer who observed that "all truth passes through three stages. First it is ridiculed. Second it is violently opposed. Third it is accepted as being self-evident."

As for the alcoholics and their families out there, I leave you with another story, not mine but another recovering alcoholic's. But by this telling of it, it becomes part of my story and I hope one day it will become part of your story.

"It's a long road to a good sobriety. But I can wait. I can put one foot in front of the other. Life has meaning if not perfection. I'll be with my family tonight and find joy being with them. I'll get up tomorrow and go to work - without cold sweat, headache, and misery in just the thought of another day without exertion with another hangover. I don't have life all worked out - I never will, or there would be no challenge to it. But working on the mystery of it has its own rare rewards. There's a chance for happiness now. I did not have that before."

David Ogot is a freelance journalist/producer who has personal experience with alcoholism. He can be reached at goinghomedotcom@yahoo.com or alternatively at info@goinghomedotcom.org

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