Of angels and demons

Published Dec 5, 2015

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Johannesburg - The garden benches at the Phoenix House rehab centre in Sophiatown are an invitation to sit, and also an invitation to surrender. Recovering addict *Lindiwe used to seek out those benches, she says, recalling her time in rehab seven years ago.

She’s been clean since, but some mornings simply putting one foot in front of the other is difficult. On these mornings, she has driven across town from Soweto to Phoenix House just to sit in the garden – to surrender to the bumpy road of recovery, not to temptation.

“I was there for six weeks and three days, I couldn’t leave. Eventually they had to make me go. I stayed with my sister initially as my halfway house, but when she’d had enough of me and kicked me out one night it was Phoenix House that took me in for a few more days,” says Lindiwe, 43, who is recovering from a crack and alcohol addiction.

Being clean is a triumph. Getting her life back, a miracle, says the marketing professional who remembers taking her first drink at a picnic when she was 12. She has flashbacks of coming off highs to find 88 missed calls from a boss when she didn’t arrive for work.

She remembers the lies, the stealing, the manipulation that were part of her life as an addict. Worst of all, she sees the lingering damage she has caused in her teenage daughter, who suffers from anxiety and depression.

“(After) three weeks at Phoenix House, I was still telling counsellors I was addicted only to alcohol. One day a counsellor looked straight at me and said: ‘And what else?’ I had to stop bullsh***ing her and myself,” Lindiwe says.

Every day she draws on the lessons learnt at Phoenix House. “I can proudly say I am consistent. I own my car, I don’t miss payments on my accounts, I have been with the same company for six years. I know I have a disease. I may not be responsible for my addiction, but I am responsible for my recovery.”

The rehab centre has been a refuge for hundreds of people like Lindiwe in its 45 years.

It started out in Hillbrow in 1970 and today uses a double-storey building that was a nunnery.

This month it is set to shut its doors. Funding has dried up, says Adrie Vermeulen, a social worker and the director of the centre.

“About a year ago we could see we were not able to keep up with our costs,” she says of the SA National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (Sanca) centre that is a non-profit organisation (NPO).

Each year it needs R6 million to operate – 48 percent of this comes from the Department of Social Development and 52 percent must come from Lotto funding, medical aid patients and fund-raising.

“A year ago we had a R900 000 shortfall and knew then things were bleak. Lotto hasn’t called for new applications in years. A professional fund-raiser we hired brought in less than her fee and we depleted all our accounts,” she says.

She holds out a balance sheet that shows there’s only R32 000 for salaries, stipends and mounting debts this month. There are 21 staff members, 27 volunteers – and two cats, which will need to be rehomed.

Vermeulen admits failings, but recognises it has been a battle for years for many NPOs. Global economic pressures have mounted and donors are squeezed.

“I guess we could have asked for help earlier but we kept thinking the department would bail us out as it knew about the financial crisis we were in more than a year ago.

“Truth is it just doesn’t have a big kitty and it expects you to do more with less. The big lesson is NPOs should have business managers. We are social workers. The NPOs that do well are self-sufficient.”

Vermeulen is heartbroken for the staff, for the legacy of Phoenix House, but most of all for the patients who need continuing support. They are hoping for an investor who will privatise the in-patient unit, but retrenchments have begun.

“Maybe like the phoenix, we will rise from these ashes.

“No one is immune to addiction.”

It is a disease that needs life-long treatment and management.

Phoenix House’s closure is devastating news for *Delwyn, 35, who was at the centre nearly four years ago and who has been clean since.

“They are family. The therapists know me, they know my family, and I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have my life today if it weren’t for them.”

By high school, Delwyn had started drinking and smoking dope, and moved on to every other drug until crack became his poison. He also became a “full-blown criminal” to support his habit.

He believes Phoenix House’s strict rules and no compromise, backed up by strong support, aftercare and developing a culture of service among those who exit the programme are the recipe for successful rehabilitation.

Today he works in computers.

“It was sad to hear the news of the closing. So many people rely on non-profit rehab centres.”

In the centre’s dining room, four in-patients – the last of the intakes – settle down for lunch. They join hands and recite the Serenity Prayer.

“You have to eat, some guys don’t have an appetite for days. But it’s part of recovery,” says *Joe. “If you don’t do your chores or follow the schedules the other guys can give you punishments, like washing the Kombi or working in the garden.”

Joe has been battling booze and weed for more than 20 years.

*Nora sits across from him. It’s her second time at Phoenix House.

Her plate is overfilled. She says she won’t finish it. She weighs 47kg, her face twitches as she speaks and four days into rehab she is fighting the urge to score cat and sleeping tablets. She tucks in because she knows the drill.

They chat openly. There’s no judgement. They all have the same story, says Joe. At the centre, they’ve come to a place of angels, but they know well the demons of addiction that have made them commit crimes, beat up people, and put their lives at risk having unprotected sex when high and drunk.

“You can’t skip meals and you can’t just leave the table,” says *Thembelani.

He says it’s about routines, about learning to schedule their lives for when they’re “out there”.

He’s worried about what will happen when Phoenix House closes. The home services a huge area, from Midrand to Florida to Hillbrow and across the West Rand. It does outreach for 47 000 people a year and has 170 in-patients a year.

“I live in Hillbrow and on every corner there’s a dealer. Once you use, they all know you. I know it’s going to be me against the world,” Thembelani says.

He has two more weeks to go on the programme. He has started writing poetry in a journal and says he has started to exercise. Thembelani hopes it will be his new normal.

“I know I must use the time I have here. I’m sad the government is not maintaining this place, but wastes money on other things. We have sisters, brothers and friends out there who are using. They should be here.”

*Not their real names

** Phoenix House will have a comedy night fundraiser, featuring five top comics, on Thursday. Tickets are R150 a person. Call 011 673 0400.

The Star

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