In 2020, everything was going well. I’d gotten a job as a barista. Every day, I spent it behind the counter, taking orders, pulling shots, and earning decent money.

More importantly, there was the dignity of sharing a lighthearted chat with customers, without the shame of feeling like I had something to hide.

It was true. I had something to hide. I had been in prison before, and before that, the years spent in boys homes, on the fringes of society, had conditioned me to the fact that I would always be “out”. Never fully accepted.

But somehow, in the confines of that cafe, I felt I could lift my head high, and be proud of what I was doing. Granted, it wasn’t something big. But it was something decent.

One day, my friends from before came visiting. They had just been released from prison, and were looking for another job. I introduced them to another cafe owner I knew, and soon, they were working there.

It was on a dreary afternoon, as I was arranging a map of the coffee places in the world, that boredom seeped in.

I’d always lived life on the edge. Using, getting high, hiding from the police trying not to get caught… that seemed a far cry from this emasculated life.

Life as a barista was good, but too comfortable. There was no edginess, no excitement to it. I wondered what my friends were doing. I went to find them in the nearby cafe, and soon I realised, they were at it again.

But somehow, despite knowing the pains of prison, the pain of boredom won over. I thought, “It’s just one time. What harm can it do?”

Amongst users, there’s often a saying, “With drugs, once is too much, and a million times are not enough.”

Feeling the immediate high of ecstasy, I soon craved for more. I tried keeping down my job, but soon, even that was lost.

Using my own strength

In a few months’ time, I was caught by the police. This time, behind bars, in the confines of those four walls and with only an hour of daylight each day, I was desperate to come out. But unbeknownst to me, I was still relying on my own strength. 

In May 2023, I was assigned to The Helping Hand for the rehabilitative programme, and was finally released on November 2023, working as a coffee technician.

But the stressors of the job got to me. To destress, and bring some excitement to my boring life, I met my friend, and soon, I was using drugs again. 

Then I was caught and soon landed up in the Drug Rehabilitation Centre for yet another time.

In the DRC, educational courses were being offered to inmates. They were allowed to further their studies to improve their prospects outside. 

But my prospects were not high. I had only 2 O-Level passes. The chances of being accepted for an A Level course was not high, especially with so many applicants. That night, in my cell, I lay there praying to God, something I’d not done for years. 

The first miracle of many

Out of the 80, only 30 were selected. Miraculously, I was one of them. It was the first of God’s many miracles.

Studying was new to me, as I had never treated my studies seriously in the past. But somehow, God gave me the endurance and the interest in what I was learning. From English to Math, these were not exciting subjects, but somehow, the mental stimulation of working out good answers to those questions interested me.

The time came and went for the exams, and I passed them with 1 B and 2 Cs, better than what I’d ever expected. But there was now something larger on my mind. What would happen after my release from prison?

That night, looking up at the cell’s walls, I prayed again for God to help. I didn’t know how he would, but I knew that God would never let His children down.

The next week, I was transferred to The Helping Hand, a halfway house located in Kovan. I didn’t know what God’s plans were for me, but I was now more open.

On the second Saturday we were there, the staff team organised a captain’s ball tournament, pitting us against volunteers from the public and our own staff.

As we threw the ball, jumped and tried to outwit each other, I felt the beginnings of joy again.

This time, the joy didn’t come from a substance, but it came from the relationships we were sharing with each other.

The thwack of the netball against my palms, the sunlight beating fiercely on my skin, the bumping against our opponents, none of this was comfortable, but it made us feel alive again. Seeing the volunteers put in so much effort, week after week, to train and condition us, reminded us that there was still goodness in the world.

Feeling “out” 

Soon, we were brought to cell, and it was there that we saw the kindness of the community. That evening, sat in someone’s home, enjoying dinner and Bible study, I knew how different we looked.

We were heavily tattooed, whilst they were casually dressed. We had long pants to hide the tracking bracelet on our ankles, whilst they wore shorts in the Singaporean heat. When the other members shared about the jobs they held in teaching and tech, we could only share that we worked in the kitchen.

We didn’t share that we were from The Helping Hand, and that we were undergoing a drug rehabilitation programme. It was the first time meeting them, and we didn’t know if they would be ready for that.

We hoped that time would come.

Being “in” 

Recently, whilst listening to the rustling of leaves outside my window in The Helping Hand, I teared up. It felt too good to be true. A few months ago, I had been stuck in prison, not knowing where I would go.

But now, I’d had the experience of riding 50km on a slender road bike, could enjoy simple conversation with churchgoers, and could even serve weekly in the church’s kitchen ministry.

All this felt simple, but it felt real. With drugs, many things felt great, but I knew it was false. It would eventually end.

The truth is, whether you know it or not, you always have a chance to reach out to someone who seems a little “out”. It’s that person you see sitting alone in church, standing awkwardly in a crowd of people, or even sitting in a group, but quiet.

You have more power to change someone’s story than you know.

This Drug Victims Remembrance Day, join us in making Singapore a place where no one has to be “out”. Get involved with The Helping Hand.