CHOSEN REHAB CENTER

I am a 50-year-old man, born in Tema, but my roots are in Effiduase-Asokore in the Ashanti Region of Ghana. I was born to a Customs Officer father who had two wives. I have a daughter but have never been married. My life story is a testimony to the magnificent compassion of God and a reminder of how cunning the Devil can be in laying traps to ensnare a soul.

My earliest and last memory of visiting my hometown was at a very tender age. On that visit, I became gravely ill and was bedridden for three months. My parents, deeply shaken by the incident, vowed never to take me back there again. But before that sickness struck, I had a strange and frightening experience. On my way home one day, I found a photo negative lying on the ground. Out of curiosity, I held it up to my eye to see the image. What I saw was terrifying—someone seemed to be running at full speed towards me. Fear gripped me, and I dropped it instantly, racing home to tell my mother. We returned to the spot where I had dropped it, but the negative had vanished. Later, it was revealed that what I had seen was an evil spirit. Soon after that incident, my mysterious three-month illness began.

Fast forward to my teenage years. I was an excellent athlete and joined the basketball team of Apam Senior High School in Form 1, having both the height and stamina for it. That was where I had my first encounter with marijuana. An older teammate encouraged me to try it. The moment I did, I felt intensely uncomfortable and irritable. When I got home, I tried taking a cold shower, but it didn’t help. My elder sister, concerned by my strange behavior, questioned me until I confessed. Shocked, she quickly had mashed kenkey prepared for me. After drinking it, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the effects had worn off. My father returned the next day, and when he found out, I was in serious trouble. I ran away from home and ended up in the ghetto, though I never took marijuana there. After several days, my father arranged for me to be caught and brought back home. Surprisingly, my family was more accepting of me afterward, and my father gave me fatherly counsel. When I returned to school, I was warmly welcomed, having been missed during my absence.

Back in school, I continued playing both basketball and volleyball but eventually chose basketball, which I enjoyed most. Before an important game, a teammate confided in me his “secret” to stamina—a certain type of gin. He offered me some, claiming it would keep me energized throughout the match. I drank it and played one of the best games of my life. Impressed by my performance, I secretly took more during a time-out. Another teammate, curious about my sudden burst of energy, asked what I had taken. I told him the truth—I’ve never been one to lie, and even my father knows this about me.

In Form 2, I stayed away from marijuana and alcohol, but in Form 3, I began drinking heavily again. One night, after drinking excessively at a friend’s house, I fell asleep and had a terrifying dream. In it, someone held a knife to my throat, inserted a tube, and began drawing something out of me. I woke up drenched in sweat. When I told my father, he asked me directly if I had been taking—or was about to start taking—any kind of substance. His accuracy startled me, and I admitted the truth.

That was when I decided to give my life to Christ. I joined the Scripture Union (SU) and noticed my academics improving. Being shy by nature, I avoided advances from my sister’s friends, which led to a lot of teasing from my peers. Some even tried to pressure me into quitting SU, but I stood firm.

Then came another turning point. During a basketball tournament, the same person who had first introduced me to marijuana showed up. He persuaded me to follow him somewhere. On the way, we met my sister, who was visibly upset to see me in his company. She warned me against going, but I ignored her and followed him anyway. As expected, he offered me marijuana again, and I smoked it. This time, the effect wasn’t as intense—I was no longer a novice in substance abuse.

My basketball career peaked when I won “Best Player” in an inter-school tournament held in Tema. Sadly, by then, marijuana had become a regular part of my life. Around that time, I learned that a childhood friend living abroad had become addicted to hard drugs like cocaine and had been sent to rehab—the first time I ever heard of such a place. He was eventually sent back to Ghana and later approached me for help finding dealers. I knew where to find them and took him there. He bought cocaine, also known as “Rock,” and invited me to try it. I did. The high was different. I also learned that cocaine was often taken with heroin (“Tie”). “Rock” made you hyper, while “Tie” calmed you down—a dangerous combination that quickly ensnared me. The addiction was merciless; once the effects wore off, desperation set in. Without money, you’d do anything—even steal—to get more.

We called the withdrawal symptoms “Turkey.” Once, I was so sick that my mother feared for my life, but a friend gave me drugs, and I instantly felt better. That was when I realized my body had become fully dependent.

I came from a wealthy family—my father a Customs Officer, my mother living in Canada, and all my siblings abroad. In the early 2000s, my father gave me GHC100 weekly, all of which I spent on drugs. He eventually admitted me to Chosen Rehab, where I was among the first disciples. But lacking discipline, I left. I began stealing from my father, including cashing stolen cheques. My drug habit pushed me into crime—breaking and entering, robbing gaming centers, and casinos. I lost a friend during one such robbery. Many crimes, I realized, are fueled by drugs, often committed by those high on “Rock” and sometimes aided by black magic.

My downward spiral continued until I told my father I needed help. My sisters arranged for me to travel abroad, but my condition worsened there, and I was brought back. My father tried every measure, even having me arrested, but nothing worked.

It was Chosen Rehab that finally saved my life. Their rescue team searched for me tirelessly, and though I tried to evade them, they eventually found me asleep and brought me in. I was put on detox, which cleared my system without withdrawal symptoms. During rehab, I discovered I had Diabetes and High Blood Pressure—silent killers worsened by years of drug abuse. Today, with proper medication and care from the nurses, I am in much better health. Morning devotions often move me to tears as I reflect on my past.

I have made a firm decision never to return to that life. Baptized even while I was still struggling, I now plan to serve God in ministry and share my story in schools and communities to inspire change.

My advice to the young:

1. If you’re a Christian, avoid close friendships with people whose parents are unbelievers, especially while you are young. Their values may conflict with yours.

2. Be careful about invitations—many lives are destroyed at parties where drinks and food are laced with drugs.

3. Choose God-fearing friends. The Devil is cunning; pray for friends who will strengthen your faith.

Sometimes, I think back to that strange photo negative from my childhood. Would my life have been different if I had never picked it up? Only God knows. But one thing is certain—God has been good to me, and the life I live now is entirely by His grace.