Imagine me with long hair down to my shoulder, sporting a full grown beard, dirty. By 10 a.m. everyday, I was already drunk with local gin, walking around half-naked. I soon realized I would find no peace in the slums. In the slums, drug use was still prevalent and immorality was rampant. There was gambling there was alcoholism. Satan was alive and well, even in the slums. I would bang my head against the wall and cry out loud, “What is happening to me? I’m a well-educated person but this is out of control!”
I cursed God. I blamed my parents for the senseless life I was living. I blamed the educational system, the government every body but me.
I had no job and no money. I got sick. My relatives took me to a public hospital where I was put in the emergency ward because I began to cough out blood. I had contracted tuberculosis and was rapidly losing weight. I knew that my life was spinning out of control. If a miracle didn’t happen soon, I would surely die.