Malik-Hakim Kadir
If you or someone you know have been affected by the disease of addiction, this book is a must read. Based on documented real life events of the author - this literary work is both prolific and raw; intelligent and insightful; heartbreaking and hopeful. Never before have we been given an opportunity to delve into the realm of crack addiction with such an up-close and personal view of the desperation and despair that comes with it. Riveting, fast-paced reading that ranks with the best in it's category.
Malik-Hakim Kadir was born in 1963 and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. He is the middle of seven children. He graduated high school in 1981 at the age of seventeen and by that time he had already been on his own for two years. He plunged headfirst into addiction in 1986 when he was introduced to crack cocaine while sitting in a motel room and he spent the next two decades of his life spiraling out of control; one detox, rehab, homeless shelter and jail cell after another. Today Malik is a child of God; a father to his son; a son to his mother and a brother to his siblings. He is also a licensed social worker and a productive member of society who believes God has blessed him in order that he may be a blessing to others. His prayer is that the message of hope within the pages of this book will ignite a spark in someone who may be suffering from the disease of addiction. Malik lives in Houston, Texas where he finally surrendered to the will of God. He brings both passion and compassion to his work and he describes himself as a frontline soldier in the war against drugs and an advocate for those who don't know they have a choice.
I had seen Marie working North Avenue one night when I was on my way home from a club. She asked me if I was looking for a date before she realized who I was. “Aw man, I aint even know who you wuz”, she said to me as she made an effort to smile.
“Hey Marie” was all I could manage to get out. I was shocked beyond words to see the woman I had once been in love with out there giving head for ten dollars.
She asked me how I had been and we made small talk for a minute or two, then she went into a nod right in the middle of a sentence. She was bent over so deep that it defied the law of gravity.
I waited for her to come out of it, and then I reached into my pocket and pulled out the only twenty-dollar bill I had on me and gave it to her.
“Twenty-dollars, you must be tryin to go.”
“Naw baby, that’s for you. I just want you to get off the streets for a while.”
She went into another nod standing there with the crumpled bill in her hand. I took the money from her and shoved it deep into her pocket; then I walked off.
I had given Marie all the money I had on me, so taking a cab was now out of the question. It was a warm night and I was so numb by what had just happened that I really needed to walk anyway.
I lit a Newport and took a deep drag off of it, and when I exhaled and began to choke. I coughed so hard that I threw up right there on the sidewalk. When I was done gasping for air, I stumbled my way over to the wall of the building and leaned against it for support as I cried, and cried, and cried some more.
The streets had sucked the life out of my Marie and that would be the last memory I would have of her, standing there on North Avenue, looking old and hard like junkie whores do. The streets of Baltimore have no conscience.
Now I really needed to get away from everything I was familiar with and just start over in a new city, with a new job, new acquaintances and a new girl. Besides, everything about Baltimore had begun to depress me and I wasn’t diggin it at all. Every weed dealer I knew had begun selling crack. The murder rate had increased dramatically due to crack, and the streets had become more dangerous than ever, because of crack.
Just when I thought Baltimore couldn’t get any worse, it did. I couldn’t imagine walking around depressed, so I decided it was time to develop a plan and relocate. I called Diane and we agreed to meet in Lexington Market for lunch that Monday in order to work out the details of my transition to the windy city.
I moved to Chicago in April and by November of 1989 I was in the height of my own addiction and the demon crack had its grip on my life with no release in sight.
Prior to that I was only partially aware of what addiction was. My concept of an addict was based solely on misinformation and a very limited view. I believed that all drug addicts used Heroine and that most of them had abscesses. Also, like most of America at that time, I didn’t know that cocaine was addictive. In fact, I had heard from numerous sources that it wasn’t. I would later come to realize the horrors of addiction first hand by living with my own for the next sixteen years, with only brief interludes of sobriety or sanity.
I had moved to Chicago with the intentions of getting away from everything that was wrong with my life. Things like my Scorpio ex-girlfriend who was now a junkie whore having sex with anyone and everyone to get her next fix. Then there were the crack dealers who ran up to my car at red lights to sell me blue top, red top, or black top vials of poison.
