I have yet another compelling story to write. And this particular story is about something that has been continuously bothering me throughout my on-going recovery journey. It’s a sensitive story about unfortunate events that took place at the height of my addiction, that have painfully impacted my friendship with my brother and best friend Zwelkid Ngwenya, pictured second from left flanked by Tshepo (MHSRIP) and far right Waxmus
This gentleman and I have been friends for 21 years and those who know both of us well will attest to our close-knit, brotherly friendship and the strong, inseparable connection we once shared. We we were so tight as friends, even his benevolent mother had embraced me as her son and he was equally embraced by my folks too. I could further expand on every dimension and precious moment of my friendship with my brother, but it will hold no significance, so I will solely focus on the important issue at hand.
Before I became addicted to DRUGS I spent the majority of my time with Zwelkid, but as my addiction took precedence and became the epicentre of my existence, we slowly drifted apart. In the early stages of my DRUG use, I managed to conceal it from him superbly well, but then as time went by I totally lost control. And when the harmful effects of my addiction began to reveal themselves outwardly, I kept a distance because I was too ashamed and embarrassed by who I had become. I had lost weight abundantly and rumours about my addiction began circulating amongst our circle of friends and I heard hurtful stories from other people who occasionally hung with our group, about the terrible things that were said about me by some of the guys in our circle and Zwelkid’s name would also be mentioned. I don’t know how true this is, but honestly speaking, some of the stories I heard were undoubtedly believable because of events that were referenced, which I knew that nobody else knew about except certain individuals. I also wondered why the guys, especially Zwelkid whom I regarded as a kindred brother and was incredibly close to, did not bother to reach out to me when he first heard rumours about my addiction. I would sometimes find myself trapped in DRUG houses, amongst a group of remorseless and cold-hearted strangers who only cared about a fix and nothing else and I would yearn for my best friend to walk in and save me from the horrors and nightmares of life I had chosen.
And as I fell deeper and deeper into the pits of substance abuse, I began to resent and despise him for neglecting our friendship even though I was the one who had a DRUG problem and distanced myself from him to begin with. But at the time, I strongly felt that he should have taken the initiative to reach out to me and find out why I had been so scarce because when we last saw each other, things were perfectly fine between the two of us. At the time I had become a heavy crystal meth user, a DRUG that is known for its delusions and hallucinatory effects. So the more I delusionally pondered on my friendship with Zwelkid, especially when I was on crystal meth high, my resentment towards him intensified and it reached an extent where I ruthlessly plotted to steal from him, as a means to inflict pain and pay revenge. At this point, I regarded him as an enemy instead of a friend, and the idiotic and regretful plan would later turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life, but at the time it seemed like a perfect plan for vengeance, so without hesitation I executed it.
At the wee hours of the morning on a random weekday, I broke into his car and stole his car sound system. I remember jumping the wall at his house and vigilantly taking cautious steps towards the car, which normally parked outside his room. I wore hand gloves to ensure that I don’t leave any trace of my fingerprints at the crime scene. The gloves were customised and nobody else had a pair that resembled mine. Zwelkid knew these gloves and so upon carefully opening the back door of the car and quietly stealing his belongings, I accidentally left one of the gloves inside the car. And by the time I realised what had happened, it was too late and I knew then that I was busted and there was absolutely no way I could deny my involvement.
I’m not gonna lie, when I came to that realisation, a part of me was happy that I had succeeded in executing my wicked plan, but another huge part of me was relieved that Zwelkid would finally come to my house to confront me about it and it would be a perfect opportunity to express to him how I felt and why at the time I thought my actions were justifiable. I somehow suspected that his first inclination would not be to get me arrested because of our history, but I was even more perplexed when he never came to my house. Days went by, weeks turned into months and there was no sign of Zwelkid. When I was under the influence of meth, I would often wonder how the conversation would go if we were to bump into each other. I would imagine him attacking me aggressively and beating me into a pulp. And sometimes I would imagine him bumping into me and deliberately ignoring my presence because in my mind I thought he was despicably disgusted by what I had done and would be unforgiven.
It was not until 2019, after about 4 years of not seeing each other, I saw him from a close distance, purchasing food at the fast-food container stationed outside Protea Glen Mall. It was a Sunday late morning and I was in the middle of my routined long-distance weekend run. My first inclination was to look the other way and hope he doesn’t see me, but something inside would not allow me to cowardly run past without approaching him first. So I somehow found the courage to approach and as I nervously crossed over to the other side of the road where the food container was stationed, I felt my heart beating faster as I anticipated his reaction. And as I got closer to his car, he, without noticing I was approaching, walked to the car to fetch some cash and I remember just briefly looking at him with admiration and a deep sense of regret for how my DRUG addiction had impacted our long-time friendship, while I stood near the boot of his car, as he mindlessly opened the door while engaging with his son whom at that moment I realised was sitting at the front passenger seat. And I said “Yo Kiddo” as I used to affectionately call him, and he turned around, without flinching and hesitating, and warmly said “My nizzy” with a huge, sincere smile on his face. My heart exploded with joy at that point and I couldn’t believe that after all the harm I’ve caused him, he still loved me as his brother. At that moment I didn’t have to affirm his love, it was evidently clear in his embrace that he still regarded me as his brother and I was so moved by that response, I was struggling to hold back the tears. We had a brief exchange of words, and which none involved the theft incident that had taken place a few years back. And because I was getting too emotional, I decided to continue about my run, but before I could do so, we cheerfully exchanged numbers. As I continued my run, I could not believe what had just happened. But even though I was incredibly pleased by the reception I had just received from my kind friend, a part of me still agonised over that unfortunate incident and was still eager to officially bury the hatchet.
And unfortunately, that moment never came to this very day. And the two times we’ve met after that Sunday weren’t conducive to talk about this burning issue that’s been harboured in my chest for what seems now like an eternity. So I thought today would be the day I officially apologise for what I’ve have done to my friend.
Zwelkid my brother, from the bottom of my heart, I ask that you forgive me for every terrible thing I’ve done to you and your family during my active addiction days. I crossed the line I shouldn’t have and had I known then what I know now, I would have made a different choice. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. And please also extend my apologies to your mother and your siblings Mbali and Jabu, I hope they too will find it in their hearts to forgive me. I love you man.
PS. And I couldn’t end this story without extending my sincere apologies to another best friend of mine, Thabo Blaze Mokandabile and his wife Naledi. I am terribly sorry to both of you for stealing Blaze’s phone in his car the other day when you gave me a lift. If I could turn back the hands of time I would, and given the same opportunity to hang out with you guys, under the same circumstances, I would make a different choice. Please forgive me.
Gugulethu ‘GK’ Khoza is recovering addict who has turned his life around and will regularly share his experiences to inspire and help young men recover from addiction. More of his stories to follow.
