Thursday, 5 December 2013

Spare a thought for the coca grower scratching a living...

Many years ago someone described to me his disgust at drug takers in Europe. He railed against the fact that those in the West who indulge in recreational drug use (something like being a bit pregnant, methinks) really have not thought too hard about the peasant growing the stuff and who does not benefit from the thankless task of toiling the earth to produce the coca that becomes cocaine. I thought then as I do now that the logic of this person was indeed accurate.

I've written before about how drugs feed the ego. Nothing could demonstrate this more than the image of a peasant, perhaps third or fourth or tenth generation of lowly worker, and how his life will never really change. The drug taker however is a type of chameleon not only living a lie as in the celebrity cook who has admitted to pushing the stuff up her nose but due to the amount of money they have, can blithely feed their habit to their heart's content.

Do any of these drug users march in the streets to proclaim how unjust and unfair the whole trade is because the little bloke at the bottom of the food chain is still crapping in an open latrine? Or that his house is a mud hut with a hole for a door and no running water or electricity? I don't think so.

When we look on Twitter at all those who are saying that this particular cook is all the more 'hot' because she takes drugs it is heart breaking. Sad in the extreme that what really matters is not that much. Nothing at all. Just the artifice and layers than when peeled away reveal even more of nothing.

Christmas is coming and the usual gorging of cash machines, debt and overeating is about to commence. No doubt many a furtive snort of the white stuff will be taking place too. Or harassed, unhappy people across the land will be reaching for the joints and thinking just how cool and acceptable recreational drug use is. And whenever they will feel like shit, which from the prevalence of drugs in our society, is all the time, they will reach for some more.

I never took drugs in my whole life. Ever. Never wanted to. Never interested. Never bothered. I've thrown dinner companions, mid-main course, out of my house when the cocaine came out. I just don't want to be around or know anyone who is so f...d up mentally that they can't survive life without screwing their brains even more.

I was greatly influenced by the books I've read throughout my life: Mishima, The Art of the Samurai. We are British after all and yet, the stiff upper lip has all but disappeared. The Samurai had to be in control of himself at all times. Any sign of weakness could compromise the life of the master he was defending. Samurai were not even tempted by the thought of falling in love - a woman's charms could enveigle the Samurai to do many things, perhaps one of them even to betray the master.

I revere the Samurai and in my own life have been as strong as I can. I am courageous by both character and choice. Life is an exceptionally difficult endeavour for anyone who thinks. None of it is easy. I'm aware of my own frailty and can get overwhelmed just like anyone. But I positively refuse to share this precious gift of life with anything or anyone which or who will make it even harder. I put drugs in that category.

It is ironic that the ancestors of those who fought for the women's right to vote, for freedom from slavery, for a better and more just society, for equality and brotherhood, and for equal rights for women, are themselves enslaved, voluntarily.

Photo copyright SvD.

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