Officials can only give estimates of the number of drug abusers in Hong Kong. Many remain unseen, hidden away in private homes, or dark alleys. They're hard to find. They need help. Ming Yeung reports.
Before attending his scheduled acupuncture treatment, Sky sits quietly in a room with a social worker, sharing with China Daily, his first-hand account of his past, and his gnawing addiction. The genteel young man - except a colorful tattoo appearing indistinctly under the black shirt on his left arm - offers no explicit clue to outsiders how tranquilizers had previously taken a toll on him.
Obviously uneasy about talking to a stranger, Sky often seems lost in deep thoughts. He shifts his gaze and seems to be looking far away, as if the right words may be somewhere out there. He speaks in a low, gentle voice, giving only short answers. It's clear that it's painful for Sky to recall the days when he was a slave to drugs, ketamine mostly, the result of which is that he lives with a badly damaged bladder.
In 2000, ketamine, which is commonly used as an animal tranquilizer by veterinarians, became regulated under the Dangerous Drugs Ordinance.
Usually "snorted" as a powder, ketamine can cause perceptual changes or hallucinations as well as giving the user a floating feeling, as if mind and body are separated.
Frequent ketamine use is associated with impairments in long-term memory, cognitive difficulties, and deficiency of motor coordination. It also leads to renal failure, reduced bladder volume, incontinence, and discomfort in passing urine.
"During the worst days, I had to pee every 15 minutes," said the 26-year-old, who started abusing substances at the age of 13.
Growing up in Yuen Long, where the young gangster problem is more serious than in almost any other part of Hong Kong, Sky joined a triad group and served as an underling to a "big brother."
Sky tried crack cocaine first. He switched to ketamine, thanks to its widespread availability and low cost. He was still going to school back then. In his free time, he "worked" for the big brother "using whatever means he could find" to fund his addiction. He was unwilling to provide details of how he managed.
Lau Wang-cheung, center-in-charge of the Enlighten Centre of the Evangelical Lutheran Church Social Service (ELCHK), revealed that Sky's big brother - also a longtime addict - plunged from a height to his death about two weeks ago, apparently losing consciousness, after taking an overdose. Like most heavy drug addicts, Sky assumed he could control the amount of ketamine he took. He was wrong. It wasn't long before he felt he could not live without the drug to dull his pain.
"Several times, I tried to stop using ketamine," said Sky. He relapsed immediately, every time he started hanging out with his old buddies again. "One time, a friend of mine asked me out for drinks, I took it (ketamine) again."
He left school after Form Four and hid at home for almost a year. "I didn't have to attend school, nor did I want to work, so I just played games at home."
At first, Sky blamed the bad acquaintances he grew up with for luring him into taking drugs. But bit by bit, he revealed that it was his quarreling family that he wanted to escape.
"Probably it was because of my dad who always got drunk and fought at home, which made me not want to stay at home," he recalled. Drugs that made him feel euphoric, he said, were an escape.
"Whenever he was home, I would be out with my friends until late nights," he continued. "When I look back, I know my parents loved me but they just didn't know how to show it."
During the time when Sky hung out with friends in the early 2000s, youngsters could be seen in playgrounds or night clubs taking drugs together, Lau acknowledged. But the public was abruptly awakened to the drug problem in 2008, when some students were found abusing drugs in public areas and even schools.
What is especially worrisome to law enforcement officials and social workers, is the fact that many of drug's newest addicts are in their early teens, or younger.
In a survey carried out in 2008-2009, the youngest first-time drug user was just 8. The shocking trend triggered tightening of the government's tactics to combat drug abuse.
After several big-scale crack downs on vice establishments and drug syndicates by the police, the youths either went across the border to Shenzhen or stayed hidden at home to get high.
"If you look at the 'surface', you don't actually see them," Lau noted. "When there's a demand, there is a supply. Online drug dealings are a continuation of a series of anti-drug operations."
In newly-developed towns like Tin Shui Wai, "couriers of drugs" are particularly active in highly concentrated housing estates. They are more difficult to track in places where a phone call is more than enough to get the drugs you want, simply like ordering food delivery.
Instead of a new wave of young drug abusers, Lau is more concerned about the drug addicts who have abused drugs for more than a decade, as he described them "a ticking bomb, in the local community".
"I'm not saying they distribute drugs to other people, but they may develop hallucinations and lose control of themselves and end up hurting others," Lau said.
Stanley Ho Chun-yu, project officer of Nitecat Online, a pilot cyber youth outreach project at the Boys' and Girls' Clubs Association of Hong Kong, has spent a few years trying to contact troubled, hidden youths online and provide them with assistance for problems they encounter, including drug problems.
Half a decade ago, the association observed that drug dealers tried to contact the youths through platforms such as online games and forums, enticing them to have fun in Shenzhen, provided with free drugs.
The police admitted that "the main issue with online investigations is anonymity offered by the internet, which often delays the identification of culprits."