Old habits die hard

Ruffy Magbanua

THE husband of my niece spent more than 10 years  in Lumbia jail for his involvement in the illegal drug trade.

He was  charged with illegal possession of drugs  with three others.  Last year, he was granted liberty and went back to his family in Bukidnon.

His three kids are now grown-ups,  left to the care of their mother who tended the small meat shop the addict father left before serving his sentence at Lumbia jail.

Before the illegal drugs caught him up,  he was an epitome of a good family man. His daily income derived from being a matansero was more than enough for their  basic needs. In short, business was good for this young family, not until the father in his late 30s got entwined with  shabu.

The family celebrated their father’s new-found freedom. They thought their agony had finally ended, but they were wrong.

Not long after his return from jail, their father went back to his old habit — that of taking shabu supplied by his old buddy in the illegal drug business.

Early this year, he succumbed to heart seizure. The family believed his untimely death was drugelated.

This story is not an isolated case. In fact, it has become common among families who unfortunately had a drug addict in their midst.  The bottom line would always be lamentable, or worse, tragic such as in the case of my niece.

I remember a media colleague who had a son addicted to drugs. Off and on at the rehab center, this drug dependent never regained a normal life. His father died a hopeless man.

Without doubt, the thousands who already surrendered and vowed not to return to their old habits had their own stories to tell. But their stories, I am sure, always end with sad notes.

The number of drug users who volunteered to authorities appear to be increasing by the day. But this question remains: would these addicts heed the call to completely discard their old habits?

The reason why I left a lucrative job at a multinational corporation was my near-entanglement with law enforcers–all about drugs.

I had this senior colleague who was into shabu.  He  kept on requesting me to drive him off (I was then driving a company-issued car assigned to our department) at Nazareth and sometimes at Patag to fetch something important for him.

That something was a small paper bag whose content I found out later to be small packets of shabu. In the course of our daily routine, I sensed we were constantly tailed by police operatives.

I always obliged with a heavy heart not because I was scared of him, but because he enjoyed the full protection of our superior.

Coddled, this addict-colleague never settled  for the annual physical examination, a  basic requirement, the company being a food manufacturing plant.

It took me not too long enough to decide to quit my job. Years passed, I was informed this addict colleague who opted to go on early retirement is still at it–sniffing shabu to the hilt!

I was told as well this son of a &#@^ *  is now into dementia. Good for him.  His immediate boss has long been settled six feet below the ground.  Good riddance.

Indeed, old habits  never die, it just fade away for a while. But this I can say: returning to the old habit has a price tag to pay these days–either you land in jail, or worse,  killed in the dead of the night. Take your pick.

E-mail: ruffy44_ph2000@yahoo.com