One week with a drug addicted

Germany is known for its beer and its German purity law. A single person drinks around 9,5 liters of pure alcohol per year. This means, that Germany is one of the leading countries in consuming alcohol. Nevertheless, mostly any other drug is forbidden. Medical Cannabis has been legal since February 2017, but everyone else has to find a dealer on the street or cross the border to the Netherlands to smoke a green cigarette. So has done it my old roommate Imri (name changed). He is an exchange student from the middle east. He loved to talk about his stoner stories. Once, he was selling cinema tickets at the box office, and he was stoned most of the time. He was a funny guy, but this changed dramatically this February. After I was coming back from my vacation, he was greeting us lovely. We hugged and talked about funny stuff. At the next day, I went out for dinner with an old friend. I told Imri, that we meet again this night. When I came back, he was not home. This was somewhat weird, because he usually does not go out this often.

He was out all night. Really strange for him, but he is a 22 year old grownup guy.

This morning was different. Imri took a long shower and went for his morning prayer in his room. In the meantime, my other roommate Mammut and I cleaned up the kitchen. We heard really loud and aggressive praying from Imri’s room. It was really strange, because he never had done it like this. Then he came out of his room, sweating and yelling at us in Arabic: “.” Then, he switched back to English. His eyes were wide open, no winking, and he was saying things like “Don't look in my eyes”, “You see? You can't look in my eyes” or “Do you see the evil in my eyes?”. We kept asking what is wrong with him. He was telling us, that he is seeing the devil in us. He is seeing him in everyone. But he is so intelligent, that he can see the truth now: “He is also in me. He is Imri. But I can see him. And I can see the good side in me, who wants to kick him out.” Than he started to shake his body, kicking his feet in the air. “Don't call me Imri again. He is the devil. Don't give me this name. Call me Mohammad” - like the prophet.

He went back in his room. Because he was thinking, he is somewhat possessed and we did not know what to do, we called the Imam. He came and talked with him. Imri was calling him the devil as well. He was also reading the verses in the Quraan that are used on people who are possessed. He took too much drugs and he spent all night at the graveyard. Weeks later, we find out, that he never smoked anything else besides weed. However, he was not able to control it. He loved the feeling of being high and on a trip. He went from one trip to another. And if the weed starts to lose its power, he rolled another pure joint. Up to four or five blunts a day.

He went to bed around noon. He was fine after he woke up in the afternoon. He was nice and friendly, but he was not remembering a single thing. At least this was what he was telling me. However, he was acting. He told Mammut later, that he remembers everything. He got some food and went back to bed.

At the next day, we sat down with him and tried to explain to him that he cannot smoke like this. That it is bad for him. In the end, he agreed. But most of the time he was telling us “Pleas repeat, I lost focus” and “Don't interrupt me... conversation is not working like this...”. Between his sentences there where gaps that went up to a minute. It felt like a donkey's years. Then: “We have to put ground rules for conversation.” After few minutes of this and no words from us, we would ask him, if he can return to his topic. “You see... I lost focus. Don't interrupt me...”, he would say. This probably occurred at least 15 times in three hours. At least he agreed with us, that he would stop smoking... for maybe 20 minutes after the conversation. Then he was asking us, if we want to buy some weed and went out. Therefore, he was back to smoking. In the middle of the night, he was staying in the kitchen and smoking a blunt. He was looking really aggressive. I was getting some water and went back to bed.

At day four, he ran out of money and was shamefaced. We locked the front door, to make sure, that he is not leaving for drugs. We also told him to sleep. He tried, but he also tried to convince us into giving him drugs. He gave compliments, begged, tried to tell us, that he cannot think normally without any drugs. He even begged for wine after a while. Normally he never drinks. He is a believing Muslim. He was just lying in bed, sweating, freezing, trying to hold a conversation, telling us, that we are the devils, but also, that he is seeing, that we try to help him. This went on and on for the next few days.

We had to skip appointments, because there has to be always someone to take care of this little kid. We gave him water, food and warm milk. He spilled the milk on the floor and after a while, he accused me, that I did black magic to him. He was also telling us, that he wants to share his inside: “Giving and taking.” Nevertheless, he did not share. He always had his ”Amsterdam” hat on. Actually, it looked cute with his pom-poms, but on the other side, it was the implication of his madness. We were sitting with him for hours and there was nothing else coming like: “I feel, I need to share with you guys... I want to share...” and of course “Giving and taking. Giving and taking” and “I lost focus... You see. I lost focus. Just by seeing the smoke coming out of my mouth” when he was smoking a cigarette.

He also wanted to write his thoughts on the wall. We told him, that this is not a good idea. We also told him, that it is not a good idea to call his mother, to tell her, that he wants to sleep with her: “I want to fuck my mom... I don't really think about it. It just came up. Give me the phone.” At some point, he wanted to kick us out of the kitchen and our rooms, because he wanted to jerk off. Off-course we have not let him do this.

We had a dinner with friends that night. We cooked together Coke chicken with some rice. Imri was not really able to eat, but he joined us. He started to talk with everyone and blamed me again: “I see, he is the devil. The devil is inside of him. I know it's not. But I only can see the bad in him.” Over and over again. Moreover, he incriminated me again with doing black magic with him. After days, I really got sick of it. The only thing what I wanted to do in this moment, was to punch him in his rat-face. Fortunately, I did not. We started to talk with each other and ignored him. He clapped with his hands, burped around and started acting. He was trying to explain to us that he forgets how to breathe and that it is my fault. After a while, Imri went to his room and wanted someone to join him.

Just to bring him a cup of water. Our guests left the house and we went to our rooms. Imri was trying to get our attention. We did not give him what he wanted.

At that night, he was knocking over a half hour at my door to tell me, that he thinks, that he will die tonight. Mammut came out of his room and told him, that he needs to go to bed, that we need to rest. He still tried to convince him. For me, it was enough. I went out and yelled at him, that he has to go to his “fucking room”. He was afraid. Probably he actually have seen the devil in my eyes that night.

Almost one week was over and Mammut and I were exhausted. I went to the drug advisory and made an appointment for the next day, to look over Imri. We still had to handle him that day. The guys from the drug advisory came the next day and Imri went voluntarily to the hospital for the weekend. He was at the locked ward at the psychiatry. Actually, he liked it there: “If this is craziness, I don't want to leave.” Oh but he tried and got a compulsory hospitalization by court. In the first one to two weeks he believed, that he could convince the doctors to let him go. It did not work. After a few weeks, he was able to get out for one day, but he got into a mental breakdown. He was already three weeks at the psychiatry and his parents finally got their visa. They stayed more than a week before he got decapitate and was able to leave Germany.

He still needs to take his medicine for at least a half year. The medicine tranquilizes him a little bit. However, he is not able to think two thoughts at once. He has to do everything step by step. He looks healthy, but he also looks vacantly – what he is most of the time. One week of hell for us, a distraught period of life for him. It was the combination of too much weed and the self-isolation in his deep and crazy thoughts.

November 2017

by Patrick Klapetz