“I always arrived first. By the time my friends turned up, I would have gulped at least four beers,” Terry
Eleven years ago, I packed my clothes, and walked out on my husband, and four children.
The previous day, we had had a recurrent argument about my drinking. My husband felt that I had gone over-board with my drinking habit, and wanted me to go easy on the alcohol.
I did not agree with him though. I was in control of myself, I fulfilled my responsibilities, and anyway, why as it wrong for me to go out with my friends and have a good time? Didn’t he do the same with his?
I wanted to teach him a painful lesson, and so in 1990, I packed my clothes and walked out of our matrimonial home in Langata Estate. Our eldest daughter was about to join university, while the second-born was in Form Two. The third-born was in class six while the fourth born was in class four and was seven years at the time.
My drinking started with a drop or two of alcohol, in a glass of soda, during family outings. Interestingly, by the time we got married in 1973, neither my husband or I drank alcohol. We only started taking it five years into our marriage when we moved up the career ladder and started getting good salaries.
New friends
Now that we could afford it, we started visiting the big hotels in town, and as our children swam or played, I would sip a soda as my husband took some alcohol. Eventually, I introduced myself to alcohol by adding little drops from his bottle into my soda. Eventually, I got bored with the soda and started taking beer.
With a good salary as a professional secretary in a multi-national company, I bought myself a car in the early 1980’s. This gave me the freedom to go out by myself when my husband wasn’t around.
With time, I got a new set of friends who enjoyed partying and drinking like I did. We formed a drinking club just for leisure, and would meet every Saturday afternoon for our cherished socialization.
That was in the late 1980’s. We would meet at our favourite drinking joint after doing the family week-long shopping, then part ways in the evening.
I was always the first one to arrive. I would get there at least an hour earlier, and would be the last one to leave. This means that I would end up drinking more than they did. By the time they turned up, I would have gulped about four beers.
My husband was disturbed by my behaviour, and he told me as much. However, I thought he was making a big deal out of nothing. We had never-ending fights and disagreements and would go for long periods without talking to each other. I did not want him to question my drinking, since I didn’t question his.
When I couldn’t stand his scrutiny any more, I decided to move out. I deliberately set up camp in Umoja Estate far from our home, to ensure that I was as far away from as possible. I did not want him to interfere with my life. My children would visit me once every month, and I would go shop for them.
I had no idea how my actions had affected my children until during one such visit, my youngest daughter begged me to forgive her father for whatever he had done and go back home.
However, I was convinced that I was the offended party, and there was no way I intended to go back and beg for forgiveness, besides, I was having a good time.
My relatives, including my mother and brother, tried to convince me to go back to my husband but I was too stubborn to listen. I wasn’t done teaching him a lesson.
I got into another relationship, and In 1992, I gave birth to a baby boy, who I had looked forward to holding in my arms. Unfortunately, retrenchment set in the following year. I was jobless, but I had some good money, and lot’s of free time to spend it. I would start drinking in the morning, and would not stop until evening. I felt as though I was on an endless holiday.
Looking back, this is when my drinking really got out of hand, because I was taking alcohol daily, and with no office to report to or a boss to answer to, I drunk all I wanted.
Going downhill
It was so bad, I did not see the point of looking for a job. By the time I landed on a temporary job as a commission agent at an insurance company, my money had run out, and I had to sell my car so that I could pay rent and foot other bills.
After a few months, the rent became unaffordable, and I moved to a two-roomed house in Kahawa Wendani Estate. Around this time, my sister-in-law visited, and saw how I was struggling financially. She called my elder sister in Karatina, who agreed to live with my son until I could stand on my feet again. My sister-in-law committed herself to be sending money for his upkeep.
My spiral downhill wasn’t about to end. Unable to pay my rent, I eventually moved to a one-roomed corrugated iron-sheet house in Kangemi.
I was struggling financially, but I still found myself drinking over three-quarters of my pay. Worse still, I rarely went to work.
On most days, I absconded work and spent the entire day in a pub drinking myself to a stupor. I stopped taking care of myself and became unkempt.
It got to a point where I did not want anyone who knew me, not even my husband and children, to know where I lived. I lived In isolation, and only looked for my friends and relatives only when I needed to borrow money.
I was embarrassed of myself and the life I was living, but I couldn’t stop myself from drinking. On several occasions I swallowed my pride and borrowed money from my husband.
Turning point
As this was happening, my younger brother, who had just gotten a job in Nairobi, also started drinking himself silly. He was living at Mukuru Kayaba slums. It is my sister-in-law who informed me a few months later that he had sunk into a depression. Eventually, he committed suicide.
Two days before his death, he had approached her and requested for house rent and money for food. He told her that he wouldn’t bother her again since he was going on safari.
With the money however, he bought his friends and neighbours beers, and a new rope and rat poison with what was left of the money. He left a suicide note indicating that he had gotten tired of the burden that was his life.
At his burial, the priest warned that there was another person in the family who might go my brother’s way if that person did not stop taking alcohol.
This jolted me, because I had been fighting suicidal tendencies for a very long time, even though I hadn’t had the courage to do anything about it. That night, though I was drunk as usual, I cried out to God, and told him that I do not want to die like my brother, that I no longer wanted to be an embarrassment to my children and my family any more.
The following morning, I visited my sister-in-law, and asked her to help me. It was as if she had been waiting for my request all her life. She enrolled me into a rehabilitation centre, and I began my journey towards healing.
I joined counsellor Rehabilitation Centre in Karen on February 1st 2006. By the end of the three months rehabilitation period, I had made new friends. One counselor was especially helpful. She would talk to me often and bring me some motivational books to read. She also got me a Bible.
It wasn’t easy, giving up alcohol. Sometimes, the urge to drink was very strong, but luckily, my desire to conquer the habit was stronger.
When I got out of rehab, I approached the director and asked for sponsorship to become a counsellor. I felt that I needed to reach out to other people out there, just like my sister-in-law had. They agreed to take me in at their newly opened branch in Ridgeways after they trained me.
This is where I worked until July 2010 when I left to study for a diploma in counselling psychology.
I spend my time speaking to the youth in schools, as well as elderly people, about alcohol and substance abuse. Alcohol isn’t biased. It preys on the young and old alike, otherwise, how would you explain the 17-year-old school boy and 73-year-old man I shared counselling sessions with in rehab? I also conduct corporate workshops and seminars to educate people about alcoholism.
I moved back home with my children in 2006, the day she got out of rehab. They’re all working now, while my son is in form four. I even have a grand-daughter, who is in class seven.
Mending and healing
The re-union was very moving. It was a mixture of bitterness and joy. I could sense that my children felt that I had abandoned them, and I didn’t blame them. I had to explain to them the nature of my illness. I am winning back their trust gradually. I don’t expect drastic results.
Some of them are still bitter with me, but the bitterness is slowly thawing. We can now sit down and talk like mother and daughter.
My husband remarried a long time ago. I am grateful to my sister-in-law, who gave me a second chance in life. Had it not been for her persistence, her believing in me and assisting me financially, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
I am lucky I had a second chance. Not many people have it.
You can contact Terry on teresa.wachira@yahoo.com
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