Weekends are designed by God for rest. It is on these two days that I catch up on lost sleep and run the multitude of errands that have piled up during my extremely busy week. It is also on these precious two days, that I try to make up for time spent reading or typing away on my laptop by bonding with the kids over a movie, ice cream or by driving around town with them in the back seat, as we do tailor and market runs.
Therefore, when my son came to tell me that I had guests in the living room, on an early Saturday morning, my mood instantly changed to that of irritation. I had chores to do for heaven’s sakes!
It turned out to be a neighbour with whom I had a cordial relationship. She came with a young girl in her teens, who she said was her sister. When she started apologizing for coming to my house, I knew it was not a social visit. She was worried about her 15-year-old sister who had started acting weird. She sometimes spoke incoherently or rudely to people older than her. She slept for long hours and was always quarrelling with her siblings. She complained of headaches and had taken to spending all her time alone in her room. She neglected her chores and her hands sometimes trembled. Her father thought she was possessed by ‘Djinn’ and had called a spiritual healer who had prayed over her. When her behaviour persisted, medicinal herbs with written incantations were burnt while she was made to inhale the smoke. She seemed to have gotten better after that incident, until they found her passed out in her room and had to rush her to the nearest hospital.
I looked at the young girl. Her eyes looked glazed over and she seemed to be in a world of her own. She did not meet my eyes. I observed the mild tremor in her hands and lips and made a decision. In a tone I usually reserve for the people who try to over step their boundaries, I asked them to come to the hospital on Monday morning so that we could discuss further. I went back to my chores feeling extremely sad.
They returned on Monday and the girl, referred to as Sakina, looked more alert and cheerful even. She was obese and had a face that could not be described as pretty. I asked her to come into the consulting room alone, leaving her sister (my neighbour outside). I looked her in the eye and asked quietly: ‘What are you taking?’
She was visibly shaken but attempted to disguise her feelings. She vehemently denied taking any drugs thereby forcing me to do a urine toxicology test. The test was positive for Benzodiazepines and other illicit drugs. She broke down in tears. I asked her sister to come in and be part of the consultation. Sakina’s story then came out amidst quiet tears and long pauses.
She came from a polygamous family background. Her parents had divorced when she was two years old and her mother had since remarried and moved to Ghana. She had been brought up by a stepmother whom she claimed neglected her. It was not that the step mother was physically or verbally abusive, she just ignored her completely and looked only after her children. She had had three other stepmothers after her and none of them took any interest in her. There was a boy at school that liked her. He had introduced her to codeine cough syrup and occasionally ‘rochie’ (Rophynol) when he had money to spend. She felt better about herself when she took the drugs. Her father was not happy with her low grades in school which had caused her to repeat a class. She had few friends as nobody wanted to associate with ‘the fat ugly girl who was a repeater’. Her ‘boyfriend’ was the only one who liked her and made her feel better.
I listened with a heavy heart at all the vices that were rampant in Northern Nigeria. Our many divorces (termed “Auri-saki”), child abuse (neglect), substance abuse and body shaming. Sakina was just one out of the several young boys and girls who had turned to drugs as a solace for the numerous problems’ life had thrown at them. I was curious where they got the drugs from. What she told me made my blood run cold. Sometimes they bought them from traders at the popular ‘Sabon gari’ market. Other times, her boyfriend got them from the NDLEA officials who sold the drugs they had confiscated from the dealers at a much cheaper rate. Apparently, it was an open secret that everyone who was in the drug business knew.
I discussed with her sister how best to tackle her myriad of problems. It was agreed that she would move in with her sister (my neighbour) temporarily so that she could keep a closer eye on her. Her sister promised to discuss with her father the probability of changing her school so that she could not have contact with the boyfriend. I referred her to the addiction clinic from where she admitted to begin rehabilitation immediately.
These cases break my heart. I remember watching BBC’s documentary ‘Sweet Sweet Codeine’ last year and thinking about this cancer that is plaguing us in Nigeria. Whenever I go to the drug rehabilitation unit, my heart weeps for the young, freshly shaved faces of the young men, obviously from middle class and affluent backgrounds languishing in the wards. What makes it even more painful is the poor number of people who actually stop taking the drugs. Very few of them stay sober. Most return to their drugs immediately they are faced with challenges in life. And the cycle continues again.
First published on December 28, 2019
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