Tobacco / ADDICTION

A school ground puff became a habit of a lifetime for
Thami Maqhubela. Now he wants out.

Eleven years ago, aged fourteen, third year at secondary school, my first cigarette. Most of my friends had been smoking for over a year. I felt proud of the fact that I’d held off for so long. I had always been strong-willed; I thought for myself, never followed the crowd.

To me, smoking seemed just as bad as drunkenness or taking drugs. But, with time, the more I saw my peers smoking and my father puffing away at home, the more desensitised I became to the whole issue.

So one day at school, during the break between lessons, I accepted an offer from a friend of a drag on his cigarette. I remember the sensation well: imagine opening the door of a glowing oven and breathing in the hot air. Your body naturally rejects it.
I coughed a bit, spluttered. Some of the more experienced smokers told me that it was natural not to be able to take the smoke down at first. I was coached by a few friends: told to swallow the smoke, not to inhale it.

Why did I persist in forcing myself? Probably because of the instant buzz I got from the cigarette. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before; like experiencing the pleasures of sex.

With my new smoker’s status I lost my ‘goody two shoes’ persona – I had been the model student type. I remember the shocked reaction from some of my classmates, the admiration from the girls.

As time went on, I got to learn all the tricks known to generations of school kids to hide their closely guarded secret. Like wearing gloves to avoid the tar stains and the smell smoke leaves on your hands. And sucking strong mints or chewing gum.

My schoolmates were smoking around me at every opportunity. I figured most of them were like me – intelligent, not easily led. They had weighed up the pros and cons and had come to the conclusion that smoking wasn’t as bad as the media said. Besides, my father had been smoking for longer than I care to remember. He was in perfect health. To me, at that point in my life, smoking was safe. I smoked in moderation. Besides, I could stop anytime.

Eleven years on, smoking has become second nature. If it weren’t for having to pay for cigarettes, I doubt I’d realise how much I smoke, even that I’m a smoker. If someone were to ask me today what smoking does for me, I’d probably answer, ‘Nothing’. I smoke primarily out of habit. Not for a specific feeling or for comfort, though it does calm me down in stressful situations.

Every year the British Government raises the tax on tobacco. When I see myself swallowing the ridiculous price increases I realise just how addicted I am. I’ll admit that when I first started I never planned to be smoking for the rest of my life.

I’m surrounded by smoking friends and colleagues. I once quizzed a close friend on whether he ever intended to give up. He used the classic excuses – he enjoyed smoking too much, he could quit any time. If only it were as easy as that.

I don’t consider myself a heavy smoker. I average eight cigarettes a day. I’ve tried quitting a few times – always unsuccessfully. Always ‘cold turkey’. For my last attempt I did my research first. I read up – magazine articles, websites. I found out that quitting smoking involves more than beating the obvious side effects of nicotine withdrawal.

Thami Maqhubela plans to use the British group QUIT’s free telephone counselling service on his next attempt.

I found to my shock and horror that nicotine is just as addictive, if not more, as some class ‘A’ drugs. A smoker never gets cured of nicotine addiction. The ex-smoker can only suppress the urge to smoke in the way an ex-alcoholic keeps the urge to drink at bay.
The withdrawal symptoms of nicotine are much worse than I had expected. I become increasingly irritable the longer I go without. I miss the smell of the smoke and that all important first cigarette of the day. It seems everywhere I go someone is smoking, on every television programme I watch – worse still they look like they’re enjoying it! I find myself trying to fool my mind by holding an imaginary cigarette to my lips and taking a deep breath. Funny as it sounds this does keep the nicotine demon at bay for a few hours. Then the cravings return. I realise that I need help if I am to defeat my addiction.

In hindsight, I wish I’d never started or at least given the decision more consideration. Surely a drug as addictive and destructive as this should be outlawed and made illegal. But I’m determined that I’ll stick to my guns and quit before a doctor has to tell me to.