The law of unintended consequences

[MajGenl.Meade]

South Africa has one of the highest levels of alcoholism in the world and domestic violence to go with it

Right you are, ex-kA:

https://mg.co.za/article/2018-08-17-00- ... en-queens/

At first, the brew was targeted at migrant workers who could not afford Western beer or preferred umqombothi. But the growth of shebeens was boosted by the Liquor Act of 1927, which did not allow African people to have liquor licences or to enter licensed premises.

Women defied this and continued to house the underground establishments where Africans could consume liquor — after paying an entrance fee of five cents. These women came to be known as shebeen queens — women who transformed their homes into a place where a beer came with the option of entertainment, cigarettes and a plate of pap and vleis when the sun set . . .

. . . To combat the raids, diepamokoti (those who dig holes) came to life. They would dig holes where beer could be hidden during police raids. But it wasn’t enough. Shebeen queens still had to consider the time in which beer could be brewed. So they came up with a beverage that could be prepared in the short intervals between police raids. They would add methylated spirits to the beer to increase its potency without having to wait for it to brew. And so in areas where police raids took place the beer became stronger.

The shortcomings catalysed by such spaces cannot be ignored. During this prohibition period, shebeens enabled alcohol abuse, an epidemic that cannot be erased from the history of South Africa’s drinking culture.

I have to say that umqombothi is not to my taste. Tried it up in Groot Marico, NW Province during the annual Herman Charles Bosman festival a couple of years back. It's a black thing. Nowadays, although some shebeen queens might still make the stuff (out in the sticks), in the locations nearer the cities, bottled beer and brandy are the mainstays. You can buy brandy here in foil sachets, half a shot or less for a couple of Rands. At a football game, there are always guys walking around the stadium offering them for sale.

The root of alcoholism is poverty which is a legacy of both apartheid and the migration (mostly voluntary) to employment in the white industrial areas. Which of course prompted the apartheid governments to try to establish the industries outside the white areas . . . you can see the results not far from us, halfway between Bloemfontein and Botshabelo. Empty, broken, rotting factories and warehouses. The biggest employers of people in Botshabelo are now in the city, much further from their homes.

[BoSoxGal]

I wonder what accounts for all the wealthy alcoholics/addicts in the world?

The root of alcoholism is pain; poverty is just one kind. I suppose, actually, it encompasses all others - poverty of love, poverty of compassion, poverty of opportunity. I guess it is all poverty.

[Gob]

The root of alcoholism is pain;

I disagree. It's perfectly possible to become physically addicted to alcohol, yet be perfectly happy and pain free.

[BoSoxGal]

I will concede that point - however, pain generally follows addiction in fairly short order as one’s addiction begins to impact on all other aspects of one’s life.

In my life and work I’ve known hundreds of addicts, none who were blissfully happy in their situation.

[Darren]

I wonder what accounts for all the wealthy alcoholics/addicts in the world?

The root of alcoholism is pain; poverty is just one kind. I suppose, actually, it encompasses all others - poverty of love, poverty of compassion, poverty of opportunity. I guess it is all poverty.

Two articles helped answer that but not completely. One was in the Atlantic and centered on a doctor that became addicted to opioids and lost his medical license. He worked in the county where I lived until college. I knew the city and the attitudes of the elderly.

The second was a more generic article. This is from the Atlantic article.

"“It was a feeling like I’d never felt before,” he told me recently. “I’m tense and nervous, and that anxiety is crippling.” The pill took the anxiety away. The sense of well-being lasted for four hours, carrying him through the rest of the night’s work.

Back then, Ortenzio was one of Clarksburg’s most beloved physicians, the kind of doctor other doctors sent their own families to see. His patients called him “Doc O.” He made time to listen to them as they poured out the details of their lives."

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/ar ... or/586036/

[BoSoxGal]

I should add that I’m acutely aware of the physical tendency toward addiction that can be triggered regardless of happiness in one’s life; I’m the daughter of an alcoholic with three siblings who are alcoholics and while I have thankfully managed through diligence to avoid that trap myself, I have struggled after each major surgery with using pain management meds as I found myself rapidly addicted to the opiods, like within a few days of taking them. Each time I have struggled mightily with withdrawal after my physical pain levels no longer justified continued use but my body still craved the meds particularly the blissed out feeling they induce. I can totally understand how many folks seek pills either by doctor shopping or from friends or the street after their pain management meds are ended and how many spiral into more affordable heroin use to continue their addiction. I’m grateful that the addiction history in my own family has always made me terrified of going there and vigilant about getting through the withdrawal and avoiding opiods except when absolutely necessary to help my body heal.

[RayThom]

The root of alcoholism is pain;

I disagree. It's perfectly possible to become physically addicted to alcohol, yet be perfectly happy and pain free.

I, too, will concede that point, however, due to the "Hitler youth" style that my father raised me, I was an alcoholic-in-progress. The pain -- both physical and mental -- was my father's way of control and, by God, little "Sheffield Adolf" controlled me.

Once I turned twenty-one, a day didn't go by without an assist from a thorough soaking of alcohol. Except for a few occasions, illness mostly, I visited local tappies and/or nightclubs on a daily basis, and always drank at home alone. I've paid for it ever since.

I am now into thirty-nine years of sobriety -- both drugs and alcohol. A day doesn't go by where I don't think about the torture my father inflicted upon me. He assured me, however, that what he was doing always hurt him more than it did me. That was such a comfort to know as I tried to mend from welts and torn skin delivered from the buckle-end of a belt.

My only regret? Not being strong enough in my formative years to beat him into a "bloody pulp" (a term my evil overlord liked to use) until after I realized that I was better than him all along. The sweet feeling of emancipation, so close, ever elusive.

The pain lingers.

[BoSoxGal]

Your father and mine attended the same parenting school, clearly.

[dales]

Everything else aside:

SOMETIMES PEOPLE ENJOY GETTING WASTED

[liberty]

The root of alcoholism is pain;

I disagree. It's perfectly possible to become physically addicted to alcohol, yet be perfectly happy and pain free.

I, too, will concede that point, however, due to the "Hitler youth" style that my father raised me, I was an alcoholic-in-progress. The pain -- both physical and mental -- was my father's way of control and, by God, little "Sheffield Adolf" controlled me.

Once I turned twenty-one, a day didn't go by without an assist from a thorough soaking of alcohol. Except for a few occasions, illness mostly, I visited local tappies and/or nightclubs on a daily basis, and always drank at home alone. I've paid for it ever since.

I am now into thirty-nine years of sobriety -- both drugs and alcohol. A day doesn't go by where I don't think about the torture my father inflicted upon me. He assured me, however, that what he was doing always hurt him more than it did me. That was such a comfort to know as I tried to mend from welts and torn skin delivered from the buckle-end of a belt.

My only regret? Not being strong enough in my formative years to beat him into a "bloody pulp" (a term my evil overlord liked to use) until after I realized that I was better than him all along. The sweet feeling of emancipation, so close, ever elusive.

The pain lingers.

I only got one bad whipping from my mother when I was a boy and I deserved it. I stole a ball of fishing line from a store. She used a six-foot long peach limb. The stripes lasted for days and I could hear the sound of the switch for years. I never stole anything else. Why did your dad beat you?

I have never been drunk.

[Gob]

Everything else aside:

SOMETIMES PEOPLE ENJOY GETTING WASTED

Wouldn't do it if it wasn't fun...

[RayThom]

... Why did your dad beat you?

I have never been drunk.

My father beat me because that is the way he was raised by his father, and as his grandfather was raised by his father -- and so on down the ancestral line -- Old World English behavior. Ignorance is easy, learning is hard.

My grandfather was an alcoholic, bleeding ulcers killed him in in 1938. My father learned from that and most of my life I remember him as a "social drinker." Unfortunately he was what's known as a "dry drunk", mostly sober but with severe alcoholic behavior. He knew what he knew, so help you if you tried to tell him otherwise. He was a brute, and used and abused his power in sick and twisted, medieval, Jacobean, ways.

I was a casualty of both his wars -- WWII and with himself -- I strongly suspect PTSD was a major factor but it was no excuse for the pain he so freely delivered.

Mercifully, he died in 2010. I have not shed one tear for him yet.

[dales]

Everything else aside:

SOMETIMES PEOPLE ENJOY GETTING WASTED

Wouldn't do it if it wasn't fun...

You're smarter than I.

It took me a bit longer to figure that out.

Oh well, too soon old and too late smart.

[Big RR]

I agree; I think WC Fields who said he pitied those who don't drink, saying "I'd hate to wake up and think this is the best I'm going to feel."

FWIW, I've known same happy drunks/alcoholics; people who generally drank enough to stave off the DTs and other problems, but did enjoy getting wasted (one I recall was a successful surgeon); I've seen that with drug addicts as well, but most of the functional addicts I knew (I worked with a functional heroin addict (at least that is what he called himself) who said he took enough heroin to keep off any withdrawal symptoms, and he was a pretty successful trial lawyers), but most of them just took the maintenance dose and avoided the highs.

y father learned from that and most of my life I remember him as a "social drinker." Unfortunately he was what's known as a "dry drunk", mostly sober but with severe alcoholic behavior.

I'd bet that's true of a lot of people, drinkers or not. Most people do not become what they are because of drinking, they drink because of what they are (or how they see themselves); the fault is not within our booze, it's in ourselves.

[ex-khobar Andy]

I'd bet that's true of a lot of people, drinkers or not. Most people do not become what they are because of drinking, they drink because of what they are (or how they see themselves); the fault is not within our booze, it's in ourselves.

Otherwise: in vino veritas.

[dales]

Spiritus Contra Spiritum……..Carl Jung

[Jarlaxle]

I disagree. It's perfectly possible to become physically addicted to alcohol, yet be perfectly happy and pain free.

I, too, will concede that point, however, due to the "Hitler youth" style that my father raised me, I was an alcoholic-in-progress. The pain -- both physical and mental -- was my father's way of control and, by God, little "Sheffield Adolf" controlled me.

Once I turned twenty-one, a day didn't go by without an assist from a thorough soaking of alcohol. Except for a few occasions, illness mostly, I visited local tappies and/or nightclubs on a daily basis, and always drank at home alone. I've paid for it ever since.

I am now into thirty-nine years of sobriety -- both drugs and alcohol. A day doesn't go by where I don't think about the torture my father inflicted upon me. He assured me, however, that what he was doing always hurt him more than it did me. That was such a comfort to know as I tried to mend from welts and torn skin delivered from the buckle-end of a belt.

My only regret? Not being strong enough in my formative years to beat him into a "bloody pulp" (a term my evil overlord liked to use) until after I realized that I was better than him all along. The sweet feeling of emancipation, so close, ever elusive.

The pain lingers.

I only got one bad whipping from my mother when I was a boy and I deserved it. I stole a ball of fishing line from a store. She used a six-foot long peach limb. The stripes lasted for days and I could hear the sound of the switch for years. I never stole anything else. Why did your dad beat you?

I have never been drunk.

She should have been vivisected for it.

[MGMcAnick]

She should have been vivisected for it.

A six foot limb is quite different from a six foot switch. Ouch!

These days, school teachers, doctors, nurses, and anyone in direct supervisory contact with children outside of the home are required by law to report their suspicions of child abuse to the authorities. An investigation will be done. Sometimes nothing is found. Other times children are removed from the home.

My daughter teaches kindergarten. She has been surprised that the majority of incidents she's had to report were not from what we might call disadvantaged homes.

[Jarlaxle]

Every child should know how to make and use a wire or monofilament garotte by age ten.