Bikes, drugs, jail, bodybuilding and religion

Camil tells us about coming from Afghanistan as a refugee, using drugs and learning to tell his story.

UN: What was it like first arriving in Australia?

Camil: My family left Afghanistan when I was about 12 years old and we went to India. After a few years, we got our permanent visa and came to Australia. For the first 3 months at high school, my brother and I had to attend Intensive English Centre. I spoke 4 languages already, but that didn’t make it any easier to start on English from ABC, 123.

I found it hard to fit in. All the non-White kids were called racist names. The White people were the ‘cool people’. But I’ve done plenty of cool stuff. I practised Taekwondo since I was in high school and did well competitively. I always had good jobs. I worked in IT and I had some really important jobs. Then I got married and she became pregnant. For a long time, life was good.

UN: When did you start using drugs?

Camil: Things got hard for me when my son was born with cerebral palsy. And my grandfather passed away around the same time. That’s when I started drinking and using drugs. I got it together again, but then my father all of a sudden passed away. Four months later my uncle passed away, on my birthday. My main role models were gone from my life. So, I started using again. Really, the reason I used the way I did was because I didn’t know how to deal with grief.

I did a good amount of damage. I was spending $1000–1500 a day on coke. So, I started selling drugs. Because how else am I going to afford it? And I got arrested and ended up doing 8 years in jail.

UN: Do you still use drugs?

Camil: In moderation. After Eid [a religious holiday celebrated by Muslims], if we go and have a few drinks, maybe I’ll have something. Why not? As long as I don’t go off the rails like before. You can’t always stop completely. Sometimes you are who you are. When I feel like shit and want to fight someone or do something like that, I’d rather take it out on myself. So, I get a bag, sit down at home with a few drinks and relax. But I don’t do it all day, every day, like I used to. Look, I would love to stop completely but I don’t think I’m ready.

Still, I hardly use at the moment — it’s not because I’m on parole, it’s just I’m competing in bodybuilding and the next morning you get up and feel shit and can’t train for a week. So, I’ve got to balance that. But we’ve got a big party coming up, and after fasting a month for Ramadan it’s going to be massive!

UN: What was it like in jail?

Camil: I didn’t use in jail. I trained, I prayed, I studied. I did all the courses that came for free. I don’t use inside because jail is not a safe environment. My advice is: if you can avoid it, avoid it. Outside you can get sterile needles. Inside, it’s 1 needle between 40 people. They clean it in Fincol sometimes, but there is a risk of hep C and abscesses. And when you keep using the same needle over and over, it goes blunt; it hurts and it wrecks your veins.

UN: What’s it like now that you’re out of jail and on parole?

Camil: When I got out of jail, I got a chance with the Drug and Alcohol Multicultural Education Centre (DAMEC). I was receiving counselling there and I got a job through that. That has meant a lot and I learned my story is powerful. People want to hear what I have to say and it feels good that I can change the way people think just by sharing my experience. But out in the street? People won’t listen to a bikie or a convicted criminal. And when you tell them that you’re not doing anything, they don’t believe you.

I can’t convince the police. They say, “You’re probably doing something bad.” And I say to them: “I’m on parole with 4 years to go. So 10 years ago I used to swear at you and cause you problems, but what have I done now?” But they’re still chasing me. Two days ago, I got searched and the officer said to me: “We don’t want you on the street.” And I said: “Why not? What have I done? You searched the car. You called 10 people for back-up. Did you find anything?” Of course they didn’t. The police won’t even let me and a couple of friends sit together because we’ve got criminal convictions.

UN: What’s it like being part of a migrant family and community?

Camil: My family has got a very big name. We’re all well-educated. My mother was a school principal in Afghanistan. In a migrant family, as soon as you come to Australia you have to be a doctor or you have to be an engineer. I don’t know how I became whatever I became. No-one in my family uses alcohol or drugs except me. Even this morning, I wake up and say, “Mum, tells me such-and-such’s son has become a doctor and I said “Mum, maybe I didn’t want to become a doctor? Maybe I wanted to be a gangster, maybe I wanted to work for DAMEC?” I wonder why can’t you be an Uber driver? A pizza delivery guy? Work at Subway?

Of course, every parent deserves a good kid. My parents got at least one ‘good kid’. My brother is a mechanical engineer. He has 20 people working for him and earns $200,000 a year. But I’m working 2 days a week for DAMEC and I reckon I’m the happiest. I can go home and sleep, I’ve got no dramas, while they’re awake at 6am. I don’t want their life. I’ve done it before and I don’t want to do it anymore.

UN: What do you need to watch out for in your community?

Camil: In our community, everyone knows everything. It’s hard to keep some things private. But they don’t know everything. I’d rather die than my family find out the detail about my bad things.

It’s been my experience that there are interpreters who don’t keep what you share confidential. They tell everyone in the community. That’s why people don’t want to get involved with a lot of services if they can’t speak English. The day I got arrested everyone found out because of the interpreter we used because my mum didn’t know how to speak English. The entire community found out and were gossiping about me going to jail. “He got done with drugs and guns.”

UN: Would you like to see harm reduction resources translated into the Afghani language?

Camil: I think some general ones are helpful, something to educate them a little. But I wouldn’t want to see anything to do with things like overdose, or vein care, or things like that. I don’t want my Mum reading that, or other people in the community. That is my business. Yeah, keep that stuff in English. I can read it, they can’t.

UN: What discrimination have you experienced?

Camil: I’ve found that stigma, shaming, stereotyping — they’re the main concerns right now in society. Yesterday I was talking to my supervisor at DAMEC about ‘Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD)’ communities. That’s the words they use. I find that stigmatising. I find it amazing when people say ‘culture’ like in ‘diverse culture’. Are we trying to say that the White Australians are not a culture? When they talk about ‘culture’ it should be the entire Australia. That’s what I found unfair. How are we going to say ‘diverse’? I got used to Australian living — I started drinking, racking, smoking, girls and everything. These aren’t allowable in my culture, so does doing them make me White? And it’s funny that there is stereotyping around people from my background and drugs, but I was just doing what I saw the ‘cool’ White people do!

And look at all the discrimination against bike clubs. I’m a member of an outlaw motorcycle club, and I love them to death because they supported me — when other people didn’t, when even my family didn’t. They never asked me to sell drugs. They never asked me to rob someone. I chose to do those things, and it is my responsibility to pull myself out of that situation. I didn’t dob on anyone. I did my time and I got out.

You can’t discriminate against people, because of their race, what they do, where they go. I’m sure you guys have seen it — there’s good and bad in everything.

UN: How has stigma towards drugs made your life harder?

Camil: Stigma stops us getting proper healthcare. For example, right now, I need Xannies. But my doctor says, “No, I’m going to give you something else.” I say, “I want Xanax because it works on me, it is the only thing that makes me able to sleep at about 10pm and wake up in the morning feeling normal.” Instead, he’s now giving me medication that makes my feet go itchy. So, I tell him it’s not working. I say, “Give me 2–3 months, put me on something like Xannies so I can sleep.”

I don’t want to do things with Xanax that the doctor wouldn’t approve of. I just want one a day so I can sleep. I’m the patient. I train 6 days a week. Why can’t I get want I need? I’ve been buying Xannies off the street. I use them at least three times a week because sometimes I can’t sleep, because I think about things — life and everything. It’s not easy to adapt: I was in jail for 8 years and just got out a year and half ago. But the doctor says, “I’ve got to give you something else” and I say “I don’t want something else that makes me physically uncomfortable.” Because I have a history of drug use and because a small number of people use Xannies off-label, I can’t get the medication that I know really helps me deal with my trauma. I don’t think that’s right.

UN: Tell us about steroids and competing

Camil: I love steroids. People who use them are usually quite health conscious. I racked or swallowed other drugs, but injected steroids. I used to go to the community health centre and get a pack of 100 needles and syringes and use one a day. People I know won’t use a syringe twice. They’ll bin it straight after one use. We’re not in jail. We’re not in Afghanistan. Fits are free from Needle and Syringe Programs (NSPs). You don’t have to boil them and re-use them in Australia. We are able to protect our health by never using a needle twice, including never sharing them.

UN: Do you have any tips around steroid use?

Camil: First thing to remember — you can overdose on steroids. Your body will shut down. And you need to cycle them — you can’t just keep using them every day. Your heart will get bigger and your health will deteriorate — a lot. Second thing is that if you’re using steroids, you shouldn’t be mixing it with drug use or alcohol. Here’s a word of advice: if you’re doing a 12-month, 6-month, or 8-week course of steroids, do not party in that time. Drink lots of water. Have all your vitamins. Eat red meat and good food.

But do not even touch alcohol or other drugs. I’ve lost 4 or 5 friends to accidental overdoses caused by combining steroids with another substance, so I am saying this from some sad experience. Drugs and steroids don’t mix. Alcohol and steroids don’t mix. I don’t care who says what, they do not mix.

This is also part of my personal drug story. I’ve OD’d from using other drugs while on steroids. I was on steroids and someone gave me a bag of coke. I had a line and I got paranoid, so I went downstairs and I had 10 shots of alcohol and woke up in the morning in hospital. If I hadn’t gone to hospital, everything would’ve melted inside me. I was shaking. I was awake but it was ugly. I OD’d, I was on a drip for 5 days. I nearly died. So yeah, it’s a lesson I have learned the hard way.

UN: Do you have any other overdose experiences?

Camil: The overdose I just described was my second overdose ever. My first overdose, I mixed Xannies and coke. I ended up on the floor with blood coming out of my nose. The police came and they found a name on the prescription label on the Xannies. Of course I said, “I don’t know him.” He goes, “Where did you get them from?” I said, “I stole them.” I’m not going to dob someone in, especially someone who is trying to help me.

I’ve lost 4 friends so far to ‘Fantasy’ [GHB]. They overdosed on a mixture of Xannies, Fantasy and coke. I actually had to bury 2 of them myself. In our religion, Islam, no-one will help you bury someone who dies intoxicated. No-one wants to touch their bodies. No-one will do the prayer. One of their mothers just grabbed my hand and said, “What should I do? They don’t want to say his prayers.” And it broke my heart. I had to call bikie club people to come and give me a hand to carry the bodies from the mosque to the cemetery. We took the bodies, said the prayers, buried those bodies ourselves. And that is not the only time this has happened. The kind of compassion my fellow club members show with this stuff is another reason why they are so important to me.

Like all illicit drugs, you don’t know where Fantasy is from, or what’s in it. As far as I’m concerned, it could be acid from a truck battery! Some people take 10ml and nothing happens, someone else takes 2ml and dies. Because of prohibition, we don’t have the information we need about what is in illicit drugs or how strong they are.

Because people are going to use regardless, we should let people test their drugs before they take them. We really need to persuade our Premier that promoting the testing of all illicit drugs is not only a caring thing to do, it’s about saving lives. For many of us, we are talking about the lives of our friends and family members. That’s too important to leave to chance.