It was the next morning afterthe effects of the Megamix lifted, that I finally came back to my senses and my fatherdisowned me. But even then, I did not remember what exactly I had done until Young told me. Tilltoday, I remember weeping for myself. I knew I could not stop takingthe drugs on my own, because I was addicted.
It washowever on my own, that I walked into the Stayfit DrugRehabilitation Centre at the state-owned hospital. It took two longyears before I was finally free of my addiction. A drug habit,which took me just a day to start. The words of one of in-housepsychologists will always linger in my mind.
“When you commit to anything, itbecomes a circle in your life. After a while, any habit set inmotion becomes addictive. It becomes a circle. But not everyaddiction is a bad thing. It is advisable to always set in motion,only good habits. Habits, as a rule, take on a life of theirown.”
Without the drug, in the earlypart of the treatment, I felt like climbing up thewalls.My body and soul yearned for it. I got mad at everybody, smashedthings and even fought with the hospital staff. At a point, theyhad to restrain me with handcuffs. Dr. Owolabi described myreactions as withdrawal symptoms.
No-onecalled on me during my stay. I was lucky I had enough money to payfor my treatment. My life had been quite smooth and drug-free,until I met Bobby Brown. That was just his nickname, of course. Buteven now, I cannot recall his real name. He had been a guy whom Iadmired. He had a way of talking that made everyone laugh and wantto hang out with him. His style of dressing and haircut wereunique. And he had ladies falling all over him. He was tall,well-built and dashingly handsome. He always spoke using Americanslangs he picked up from their movies. When he walked, he wouldsway to the right, then to the left. I could not help admiring him.I soon found myself trying to emulate him.
We had met at a party and struck up an instantrapport. I always wanted to be associated with the in-crowd atsocial events. Despite my Olympic medal, I wasn't satisfied. I wantedto be the life ofthe party at social gatherings, but I was too reservedbynature.Bobby, onthe other hand, was always the life of the party. It was much later that Irealised that his confidence wasn't real; it came from thedrugs. So, I did not hesitate to experiment with it when he made thesuggestion. But I guess I learnt the hard way that it was not thebest way.
Bobby died last year. He flung himself off a rooftopat a poolside party, while trying to fly like a bird.
It was Dr. Owolabi whosuggested that I come to Obudu and draw some inspiration from the sereneenvironment, when I mentioned that I didn't know what to do with mylife. When I arrived here, I understood what he meant. The placehasa soothing calmnessand the beauty of nature is everywhere, especially at the beaches and recreationparks. My major problem was getting over the deaths of Stephen andMorgan. My conscience smote me that I had killed them.
“There is not much you can do toundo the past, Philip,” Dr. Owolabi had said to me. “We all makemistakes and everyone has a right to a second chance, especiallywhen they are truly repentant. Try a new environment and startafresh. And forgive yourself.”
So, Ihad checked into the Lodge, under a different name.
“My name is Philip Newman,” Ihad told Ayuba. But I was in for a surprise because one of theguests at the Lodge recognised me.
“I never knew of your change ofyour name until now, Philip,” said Mrs. Marshall, as she satknitting a blue cap in the lounge. It was a sunny afternoon and Ihad just walked into the lounge and taken a chair close tohers.
“Uh, change of name?” I was at aloss for words.
“Philip Ajayi.I remember your wrestling matches at the last Olympic Games. You wereimpressive.”
“Oh, I see. Mrs. Marshall?” Iasked smiling. “It was a memorable time for me.”
“Are you stillintoprofessionalwrestling?”
“No,” I replied looking down atthe terrazzo floor.
“Why is that?” sheasked.
I foundmyself telling her everything. I guess I had needed to talk tosomebody for some time; it wasn't the same as talking to apsychologist at the clinic. My conscience often worried me,concerning Stephen and Morgan.
“You can’t bring them back,Philip,” said Mrs. Marshall. “No matter how much you wish youcould. Pick up the pieces of your own life and put the past behindyou. Letting your life stand still and hating yourself makes nosense, because it won’t bring them back. Forge ahead,Philip.”
At times, even now, the cravingsuddenly comes on me … my hands start trembling, my throat goes dry. But I canovercome it by taking a long walk and reminding myself of theimmeasurable harm the drug had caused and how far I havecome.
I fell in love with MariaMarshall, the very first day that I saw her. It was on the day Iarrived. I was just entering the Lodge with my bags, tired afterthe long journey, when I caught sight of her. She was standinginside the lounge, her body in profile watching TV. Whoever saidthat thebeautiful ones are not yet born evidently had not seen her. Her face, asight to behold. It had perfect symmetry. Her hairpasther shoulders,almost reaching her waist. Her dark eyes, enchanting with long lashes. Her noseseemed to be pointing defiantly. Her skin was dark and lovely. Herfull lips were sensual and she was wearing this white dress thathad no back, and seemed to cling to the front of her body and her bottommore by sheer willpower, rather than anything else…it revealed curvesthat made my head swim. It occurred to me when I got to know herbetter that she may have stood in the lounge that day,hoping to
