DRUG ADDICTION WORD

It was the year 1920. I was not yet quite of age and happened to be all alone, full of enterprise, on a walking tour in the Mediterranean area during the summer holidays. Ignorant of the grave dangers that abounded, I arrived one evening quite unsuspectingly in the sailors district of a seaport town. Being hungry, I did not mind when a sailor guided me to a restaurant full of seamen and a number of dubious and strange-looking characters. They were eating,, drinking and gambling. In fact, the environment into which I stumbled so innocently struck me as unusual right from the start. Just as unusual was the food I was served, and if I had not been extremely hungry I probably would not have touched it. But I had no other choice than to make the best of it. All kinds of sea food, squid, mussels and so forth were placed before me. Courteously but firmly I rejected the alcohol and various beverages I was offered. At any rate, it was fortunate that I drank no alcohol as a youth, so it was possible for me to watch attentively what was going on around me in that place. The voices kept getting louder, and I was not surprised when suddenly a quarrel ensued which tuTneci into a real battle. When these sinister fellows began attacking one another with knives, a tall strong sailor seized a chair, broke off one of its legs and used it to shatter the lamp that lit up the place. I hid in a safe corner to avoid being drawn into the commotion, waiting attentively but calmly until the brawl gradually subsided. Lamenting, the landlord appeared with a candle and led me to a place set aside for sleeping in an adjoining dormitory.

This was where I would have to spend the night. Old folding bunk beds were fixed along the wall and wisely I climbed into the third one at the top. What I saw and heard from up there in the glow of a paraffin lamp was like a nightmare. I began to realize that I had ended up in a genuine den of vice, a haunt of drug addicts. In spite of being so tired I hardly slept. Nor did I have the courage to get undressed, for the blankets were anything but clean. Early in the morning I climbed down from my bed, and before I left this dreadful place with relief I took another glance at the pathetic figures it sheltered. Some were staring into space with hollow eyes and idiotic expressions. I have never forgotten that repulsive sight or the night’s whole unpleasant experience. This left such a strong impression on me that I was forever immune to curiosity and anyone’s persuasiveness. Even friends from whom I actually expected only good, failed in their efforts to make me try drugs. I never responded to their invitations however much they urged, but withstood all their insisting. True, one of my old friends described his trip to the strange land of dreams in the most glowing of terms, but he was unable to entrap me, for I was unshakeable in my determination never to give in to thrills of this kind. How much better things would look for today’s endangered youths if they would fight temptation with the same power of resistance?

Forty years after this incident I had some tea with Indians, which unbeknown to me contained coca leaves? This drink gave me, against my will, some idea of what it is like to take a notorious and inglorious trip into the land of mad fantasies. The Indians living in the Peruvian highlands especially enjoy this tea. They also enjoy chewing the leaves while working, since it makes them feel strengthened to carry heavy loads. They are used to its strong narcotic influence, whereas it can cause us to have hallucinations. One must know dangers in order to consciously protect oneself against them.