The horror of addiction can be replaced with a new threat in rehabilitation centres
Hazel Friedman
“I began my life right on track
Then my enemy appeared. His name is crack.
But as the vapour explodes in your head,
Be prepared for an early deathbed.”
These are extracts from a poem penned by Kevin Castle (22), who died in March after smoking crack cocaine.
To strangers he was just another addict who indulged in one “batting” session too many. To his friends and teachers he was “Kevin from heaven” a great kid with a satellite-dish of a smile and a gift for poetry.
To his anguished mother, Sue Wobbe, he was a “beloved angel” battling a debilitating and deadly illness.
Wobbe is one of thousands who participated in an anti-drug march through the streets of Johannesburg on Tuesday. Organised by the South African National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependency (Sanca), the march formed part of International Day against Drug Abuse and Illicit Drug Trafficking.
Recent reports released by the South African Community Epidemiology Network on Drug Use indicate that drug abuse, particularly among South Africa’s youth, is reaching epidemic proportions.
But statistics cannot convey the horror of living and dying from addiction. Castle’s autopsy report states that he died of cardiac failure. Compounding his tragic demise is the fact that he had been released from rehabilitation shortly before his death.
He was a patient at Noupoort Christian Care Centre. The rehabilitation centre has been mired in controversy over its harsh treatment methods which were exposed last month after the death of 16-year-old Logan Kling-enberg, who was found chained and shackled to a gate in Midlandia the military-style barracks where “disobedient” addicts are punished.
Two Noupoort staff members have been charged with Klingenberg’s death and are due to appear in court again on July 17.
This week another teenager who was admitted to Noupoort, Theo Hurley (15), died in the Wilhelm Stahl hospital in Middelburg. He had been brought to the hospital by Noupoort staff after becoming ill at the centre.
Castle was a patient at Noupoort for a year and a project leader for four months.
“Like other addicts, my son Kevin was desperately ill and had no self-esteem,” recalls Wobbe. “He became completely dependent on Noupoort for approval. Because he left eight days before his official release date, he was told he would ‘fall’.”
Two months after his release he relapsed. Over two days he made at least seven desperate calls to Noupoort staff and the wife of the head of Noupoort, Pastor Sophos Nissiotis. None of his calls were returned.
Eventually he got through. According to his mother, Noupoort demanded that he raise a R12 000 sponsorship to return to the programme. A struggling single parent, she says it was impossible to organise that amount on a Friday night.
The following evening Castle disappeared. On the Monday morning his body was discovered in the room of a sleazy Hillbrow hotel.
Nissiotis refutes Wobbe’s accusations that her son was abandoned by the people on whom he depended.
His wife Gladys denies that Castle phoned her several times, two days before his death. She says he left one message for her, assuring her that he was going to get his life on track.
But telephone records confirm that between March 22 and March 23, Castle phoned Noupoort at least seven times. He also phoned Chris Everett, a former Noupoort patient who now runs the Gauteng branch of the non-profit Drug Education Council. Everett prayed for Castle.
Castle was sent to Noupoort after he got hooked on crack. His mother believed the inexpensive spiritual haven (unsponsored patients pay R33 a day) would protect her son and rebuild his spirit. But Castle’s journal provides a horrifying document of emotional and physical abuse. In one entry he writes: “I can’t take it any more. We are being treated so bad. People are trapped here, too scared to say anything because they get threatened with Midlandia … I’m surprised they haven’t brought in the death sentence.”
In another entry he writes: “This is not Christianity, this is a cult.”
In his diary Castle describes abuse and humiliating rituals inflicted by Noupoort staff. They would read aloud to everyone the intimate contents of personal letters sent by loved ones to patients. “Disobedient” patients would be publicly rebuked during church services conducted by Nissiotis.
Castle describes offloading a consignment of liver delivered to feed patients. It was riddled with worms. Patients who were vegetarians were forced to offload the consignment. Some began vomiting.
Castle’s diary describes how a young inmate at Midlandia was allegedly brutally beaten and forced to train with a 25kg weight attached to his arm. He also claims staff set a pit bull on a cat while he was there. The frightened feline managed to escape up a tree, but fell after the staff shook it vigorously. After the dog had savaged the cat, they allegedly threw a brick on its head, to make sure it was dead.
In his diary Castle complained of weakness, hunger and pain. He wrote: “It feels like something is taking over my mind. I feel so lost, like I’m being brainwashed. I feel useless, powerless, motionless.” In another entry he asks, despairingly: “Will I actually survive this, or will I just finish off?”
So why did Castle want to return to Noupoort after he relapsed? According to Everett, he grew to appreciate his environment and the spiritual lessons he had learned. But Johan Visser who runs the Cape Town branch of the Drug Education Council, whose son spent four “harrowing” months at the centre, has another theory.
“Patients are taught to feel totally dependent on Noupoort for their salvation. They are made to feel like scum in the outside world.”
Noupoort is one of the only rehabilitation centres that offers cheap, long-term in-patient “treatment”. State-sponsored facilities have long waiting lists and are often under-resourced. To desperate parents who cannot afford expensive private treatment centres, Noupoort often seems like the only alternative to jail or death.
But Castle also stayed for another reason. He adored the 120 pit bulls that are kept at Noupoort. According to his mother, it was only through caring for them that he seemed to have a sense of self-worth.
Castle’s friends say that he let the sick animals sleep in his bed while he nursed them back to health. He wrote about the wounds and scars that appeared on the dogs’ backs after they had been “taken away” for a weekend. And he was devastated when one of his favourite dogs was “mysteriously” savaged. But he kept his mouth shut about alleged dog fights.
“Patients are too scared to bring up the fights in case they get sent to Midlandia,” says former patient and staff member Fred Hall.
Everett believes Noupoort can work wonders for addicts if they “walk with the Word of Jesus Christ”. But he admits that when a former patient phones repeatedly, compassion comes first, money later. His former caretakers, however, were angry because he had left against their wishes.
True to Nissiottis’s prediction, Castle had “fallen”. On March 22 he stole his mother’s VCR and went on a binge. Later she was contacted by drug dealers who demanded ransom money in return for her son and the VCR.
After the exchange was made, Castle broke down and begged to return to Noupoort. He was “scum”, he said, and deserved to be punished. He made the fruitless phone calls and then he disappeared. A cleaner found his body in room 216 of the Hillbrow Sands hotel. On hearing the news his mother left a final, anguished message for Gladys Nissiotis.
“This is the last time I will be calling. Kevin is dead.”