My father and mother both had severe alcohol problems. They were probably both alcoholics, but I cannot say for certain, the reason being that when I was four months old my father left my mother and us two children. When I was seven years old, my mother committed suicide. Her parents (my grandparents) adopted my sister and myself. They were good living people – they did not drink or smoke at all, and they raised us in a good and honourable way. But the death of my mother had a lasting negative effect on my sister (who was seventeen months older than me) and she soon went astray and became involved in alcohol and drugs. I remained at home, however, and being a good boy, I did well in primary school and can’t even remember getting any hidings during that time.

At the end of grade 7 (in 1968) we had a ‘hippie’ farewell party so we had to dress like hippies. My friend’s mother dressed me up like a hippie, with a wig, scruffy clothes and tattoos. I won the prize for the best hippie - a seven single called “Butchers and Bakers and Candlestick makers” which was in the top ten of the hit parade. That was the beginning, or perhaps the time when a desire was awakened in me for the hippie kind of lifestyle. I soon started rebelling against the authority of my grandparents, and started dressing the way I liked. Not long after that I started smoking cigarettes, just for the kicks and to be big – it seemed to boost my image. I also started drinking and enjoyed the feeling of being drunk. At the age of 15 I left school, halfway through grade 11. I wanted to work to buy my own cigarettes and booze. I also wanted to grow my hair. Now I was independent - my own boss. Needless to say, the drinking became a habitual thing every weekend. When I got my pay I went straight to the NBS (Nearest Bottle Store) and that was always the most important thing to me. I found that when I was drunk I had much more courage and freedom with girls at the discos, etc.

When I was 16 I had my first encounter with dagga. I was taught that dagga was very evil and dangerous. My grandparents never really warned me about cigarettes and alcohol, but dagga they said was of the devil. A friend and I were invited with some older boys who smoked pot, I did not want to go along, but my friend persuaded me with the promise that we won’t smoke, we’ll just go along to pass the time. It didn’t take long and I was pressurized into taking a drag of the pipe. I liked it! I liked the feeling but also liked the image and the feeling of being a rebel. It made me feel like a man. I became untidy, uninterested in my appearance, my work went backward and I just thought about enjoying life. I met Sharon at that stage (she was 14); she was already drinking and smoking dagga and that’s why I liked her. We lived an immoral and loose life, not caring about the future. My life revolved around pleasure. If I could not get dagga, I drank cough mixture, prescription drugs, anything that would give me a kick.

In 1974 I went to the army and four months later I was arrested for possession of dagga. I was detained in a solitary cell for twenty days awaiting trial. I said to myself I would never smoke again. I went to court, got sentenced to four strokes with a light cane and was sent to military hospital for psychological observation. On arrival at the military hospital I smoked dagga again. I forgot about my punishment. After two weeks of observation I was found to be normal and the army sent me for rehabilitation. I spent seven months at the rehab camp where the therapy used to help us was hard labour. Needless to say, I came out of there seven times worse than when I went in. One thing this whole episode did teach me, however, was to make sure I never got caught again! I did not stop using dagga but cut down a lot and started drinking heavily.

Then Sharon and I got married; she wanted to settle down and start a family, but I loved my drink and my friends. We fought just about every weekend because of my drunkenness. Eventually I drank at work and at lunchtimes I went out with a friend and drank a half jack of rum. Some mornings I would drink a beer on my way to work. I didn’t think that I had a problem, I was only enjoying life, that’s all! The problem in my marriage was my wife, not me, and two and a half years later we had had enough of each other and our marriage was on the rocks.

Thankfully she sought help. I thought she needed it! She was referred to a certain pastor who counseled her while I sat waiting in the car. After a while he sent for me, so I went, and even though I thought to myself that I would not listen to him, I realized that day that I was lost; a slave to sin, to alcohol, to drugs and to pleasure. I confessed my sin and turned from my ways. That was the day I met the Son and the Son set me free. And I found that God is faithful. He has kept me for over twenty years now and I have never gone back or had a relapse, or even a desire to go back to that life again.

John and his wife Sharon has been part of TNT since it was founded. They are currently missionaries near Malelane in Mphumalanga province. He travels throughout South Africa and other parts of the globe, to preach the Good News.