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I had been kneeling for what seemed like hours with this witch-doctor chanting and singing over me, occasionally prodding me and spraying me with a deodorant I think was called Elora.
The hard dirt-packed floor bit into my knees mercilessly but any attempt to shift to a more comfortable position which involved not being completely upright brought swift retribution in the form of knobbly knuckles being rapped sharply against my skull.
Cheap incense, wood smoke and of course the pervading smell of Elora assaulted my nostrils in the dimly lit hut. Devotees, about five or six of them chanted and sang in unison with the healer.
My mind begun to drift, but just as I mercifully managed to start sending the cacophony to the periphery of my conscious, just when I was about to consign the babble into the background, I was rudely yanked to my feet.
Dragged shuffling round the hut, more chanting, more spray then pushed roughly to the grounded in the oh so painful kneeling position and the prayers went on.
Some days later around midday as the sun beat mercilessly down on my recently shaved head I was wrapped in a startlingly white sheet naked as the day I arrived on this earth and ceremonially ‘buried’ in a mock grave. I now had to unwrap the sheet off of me, crawl through an adjoining tunnel and come out of the identical ‘grave’ on the other side. But what took the cake was then I had to climb out of this scar in the earth clad only in my birthday suit.
What this ritual was meant to achieve I had been informed was to leave the devil of alcohol behind buried in the other grave with the white sheet. That was it. Enough was enough I told my very pregnant wife. We would leave the next day at first light.
I had no idea where we were only that we were somewhere in South Nyanza in the western part of Kenya. I had no money they had made sure of that before I was admitted but I was determined to get away.
At dawn we stole away with my wife and with the few coins she had and the help of some good Samaritan’s coupled with a good dose of fast-talking we go to Kisumu the largest town in the region from where I got money from relatives and eventually we got to Nairobi.
It was here in Kisumu where most of my family members had met a few weeks previously after being convinced that I was bewitched. They had been completely sold on the idea that this was the only explanation for my seemingly bizarre behaviour.
For what else they were told could explain why I would apparently for no reason after staying off alcohol for several weeks start drinking like one possessed? This was not normal. Drinking for days on end unheeding of all that was going on around me and often even what happened to me as a result of drinking.
Neglecting my wife and children after having been with them during the sober weeks being the model, attentive father and suddenly just up and going on a bender. It did not make sense to anybody least of all the family and relatives.
This is how I ended up in South Nyanza. Later my wife was almost to lose our last born son due to the malaria she contracted while sticking to my side for this was one of the main conditions I had given as I was pressurised to go see this healer so that I could be cured.
This ‘doctor’ was later brought to Nairobi at great expense and performed some exotic rituals including killing a white cockerel and sprinkling the blood all over the rooms in the house where I was staying.
A few weeks later I was drinking again. My son would have died had my wife miscarried, my wife was gravely ill for a while, arguments, a lot of money and pain and hope - all down the drain! For what?
Simply because nobody knew about alcoholism. I drank on in a destructive downward spiral. My children would grow up with a drunk father, constant fights as my equally bewildered wife tried valiantly to hold everything together while I convinced that the whole world was against me sought solace in even more alcohol.
If only people would understand me I told all and sundry who would listen, I wouldn’t drink so much. Denial. Ignorance. The result was unimaginable pain, waste of resources, talent and life!
Finally over a decade after this debacle with the witch doctor, I landed at the doors of Asumbi Treatment Center in Homa Bay and here learnt that I was an alcoholic. Oh joyous relief. At last I knew what was wrong with me and I learnt what to do about it. I had a disease, which though incurable was eminently treatable.
Since then as I tell my story in every forum I can get and counsel families in my office most in my office never fail to exclaim almost in anger “I wish somebody could have told us this along time ago!’ They are relieved yet bitter. For there is no rocket science involved in handling alcoholism.
All we need to do is understand it and then get on with our lives. But right now thousands of Kenyans will continue to die after wasting resources visiting witch-doctors and other quacks and charlatans who are out to make a quick buck from our misery.
For indeed where there are alcoholics and other addicts, society suffers as a whole. Needlessly.
During the June 26th International Day Against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking held at Nairobi’s famous Kamukunji Grounds, the UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan dwelt on this years theme "Drugs: Treatment Works."
Annan underscored that "one of the most damaging misconceptions about drug use is that it is a permanent problem. The truth is that treatment for drug abuse can work and can restore value and dignity to a persons life."
The speech was read on his behalf by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime - Regional Office for East Africa (UNODC-ROEA) Regional Representative Mr. Carsten Hytell who noted that "the theme for the coming 12 months is ‘Drugs: Treatment Works’. The goal of the campaign is to emphasise the importance and effectiveness of drug treatment - to drug dependent individuals, as well as the general public."
But perhaps the most notable point Hytell made was that the "UNODC hopes to diminish the stigma attached to drug users by showing the possibilities for a positive future using the stories of individuals who have successfully undergone treatment and are engaged in productive lives."
This was music to my ears as I am sure it was to other addicts then the UNODC Regional Representative added the icing to the cake when he reminded the huge gathering that "this is not merely a theme for the 26th. June, but a theme for a year long campaign."
Koffi Annans speech’s closing words are fitting at this point as he concluded, "when treatment works, it benefits us all."
David Ogot Sr.
8th. October 2004
Nairobi, Kenya
David Ogot is a freelance journalist/producer with personal experience with alcoholism. He can be reached at goinghomedotcom@yahoo.com
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