This
narration is based on my true personal experiences of life from the perspective
of a family member after a sibling develops psychosis.
I was born
in a family of 7 children and my parents are both alive by the Grace of God. My
father worked in mines all his life having migrated to Zimbabwe from Malawi in
1957. We grew up from a poor background. I witnessed my sister who was very
brilliant in school dropping out of school after completing her primary
education. This was mainly because my parents could not afford to pay the
secondary school fees for her despite the fact that she had come out with
distinctions in both her subjects. She was dropped out and preference was given
to my elder brother who was also in secondary school. Such was the degree of
poverty and lack.
I am the
last born the family. I have 4 brothers and 2 sisters. My brothers were
talented soccer players and they all played soccer in the first division. A lot
happens in sport that may escape the attention of a parent. Through sport
children can be exposed to a lot of peer pressure which if not handled
correctly may lead to a lifetime of regrets and irreparable damage to one’s
life.
I witnessed
this in the life of my brother Henry who became a living victim of drug induced
psychosis at a tender age of 21. Henry was a very handsome young man whose
etiquette and behaviour in public was an example to many. He was kind,
considerate and well groomed. /in our community he was cherished by many. He
could mix easily with anyone. As such he had many friends and this was to be
the seed for his future downfall.
His friends
liked him. And he was my parent’s favourite child. In sports he was highly
gifted. He played soccer.
The
abuse of drugs in sports
My brother
easily fitted into the first team for Renco Mine which was playing in the
highly competitive first division. Pressure to achieve was high as they aimed
promotion into the premier league. During these days, my brother made friends
with his teammates. That was when he started to be exposed to illegal drugs
especially marijuana (mbanje).
They called
it Ganja. They would listen to music by Bob Marley, Burney Wailer and Misty
Roots. And soon he wanted to be more and more like them. Mbanje became part of
his life. He would take it every day. Before their training, the soccer players
would pass through a hide-out in the bushes which they called Mount Zion. In
Mount Zion they would take as much of marijuana as they needed to enhance their
performance during training or during the soccer matches. I would see them
doing it but was oblivious to the dangers. I was very young only about 10 years
of age. I was the one who carried his football boots so I would be there most
of the time. I was kept under oath never to disclose this to our parents. I
complied.
The
onset of Psychosis
One day
Henry bid the family farewell. He was going to Masvingo where he had gotten a
job. Everyone was excited about the prospect. The family prayed and wished him
well.
About two
days later, my parents were shocked to see a police officer coming home
carrying the bag that belonged to Henry. They were gripped with fear for the
obvious. They waited for the officer to pronounce the fate of their beloved
son, fearing for the worst.
They were
told that their son had suddenly developed mental illness in Masvingo. He had
gone beserk. He was violent. He was beating up people indiscriminately. Talking
to himself. Seeing invisible things and talking to invisible people. He had
initially been arrested but was later sent to Ngomahuru Hospital. There were
some documents in the bag that were then used to locate our family. The
situation was bad. Upon his discharge from hospital, he reunited with his friend
and had another shot of marijuana. Immediately he relapsed again. He would burn
things in the home. Sing all night. Beat up people including out parents. The
immediate family response was to tie him to the bed. It took a real fight to be
able to achieve that.
Family
response
The family
were very confused. All the joy was gone. No one could explain what was
happening. People didn’t know what to do. Our family was a Christian family and
my father was the leader of the church.
We also had
traditional roots. The family elder’s meeting resolved that this didn’t call
for a hospital approach. This sickness was attributed to some spell and hence
traditional doctors had to be consulted for explanation, insight and treatment.
In no time, traditional healers flocked the house. They tried all they could.
Gave the family endless lists of what needed to be bought, including a beast
and traditional beer ceremonies. For a family languishing in poverty this was a
tall order and it meant the family was sinking further into the poverty trap.
Buying a beast was too much an order for a family that owned no beast at all.
But it wasn’t seen that way. It was a battle to return Henry to normalcy. It
was a desperate attempt but there was no change. No amount of traditional magic
worked.
My father
had to focus on fending for the family otherwise disaster was brewing. This
shifted the burden of care to my mother. It was one of the most traumatising
experiences in her life.. Having to care for an adult child who would strip
naked due to illness. She endured the agony and emotional stress. I was also
not spared. I was asked to skip school classes to go with my mother to distant
places to consult various traditional healers. At one time we walked close to
30km in the forest. Even that did not help.
Community
based abuse
The family
decided to have him admitted at the homestead of some traditional healers
called John Bhuka in Mhondoro more than 600km from Renco Mine. He went there
and stayed for a long time there. At one time my parents were summoned to
Mhondoro to respond to some emergency. It turned out that my brother ha been
turned into a real slave. Doing unbelievable manual work with little to no rest
and barest minimal food. While doing his slavery duties the goats which he was
tending ate in someone’s field and in rage that person literally took an axe
and struck my brother in the head. He wanted him dead. He was lucky to be alive
as he lost a lot of blood. Up to date, he bears that mark in his head. The
perpetrator was never arrested for attempted murder.
My brother
lived in squalid conditions with no access to clean water and not even being
given the due attention for personal care. He would seldom bath or brush his
teeth.
This
prompted my family to take him back home and resort to the medical approach. He
was admitted in hospital and transferred to Ngomahuru Hospital about 52 km out
of Masvingo along Beitbridge road. He was treated and went through the
rehabilitation process.
He regained
his life skills and the change became visible. He was taught to take his
medication. He has been doing that ever since.
From
Psychosis to Stability
Today,
Henry has been living with mental illness for about 30 years. My parents are
still alive and are retired. They are now subsistence farmers in Sanyati.
Henry is
one who takes care of the family. He tills the land and manages all the
projects at home. He has recovered and he knows how to manage his condition and
go to Sanyati Hospital for his regular supply of psychotic drugs.
What made
the difference in his life was the wider and consistent family support. This
has helped him recover his self-esteem. Signs of sickness can still be seen but
they are very mild.
Conclusion
The pain
and suffering that my brother, my family and I went through as a result of
psychosis inspired me to have a passion in mental health so I could share my
story and help other families to come out of their predicament.
I am Tendai Mayuni
I am Tendai Mayuni
and
This is my
story!
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