Category: altered states

SHABU 2

G.U. Stuart, MD

Time was when the illicit drug use in the Philippines was mainly an indulgence of the fringe literati, the burgis, the artists and entertainment circle, far removed from the masa and rural culture with its isolated social pockets of marijuana users. None of the hard drugs and the intravenous drug users; none of varied countercultural movements that was requisite or fuel to the growth of the drug culture. It seemed almost possible that while the drug problem raged in most developed countries, the Philippines would be saved from the scourge of illicit drugs. But, alas, slowly and surely, the illicit drug market has successfully gained inroads into subcultures of users, into collegiate life, and deep into the bowels of Philippine rural life, burgeoning into a raging epidemic of drug addiction.

Today, “Shabu” poses a problem as serious, as frightening, as formidable, as any present day issue confronting the Filipino society. How can a country and a system mired in corruption fare against the commerce of drug trade so empowered by its bottomless coffers and consequent political clout? Many powerful nations have succumbed; the fanfares of their drug wars muffled, their policies inevitably compromised, shifting from prevention into containment.

Sadly, I think the Filipino society confronts an impossible task. The problem is past prevention. Is containment still possible?

SHABU

HISTORY
Amphetamine was first synthesized in 1887 in Germany. Initially called phenylisopropylamine, it was, for a long time, a drug in search of use, trying to find application from decongestion to depression. In the 1930s , it was initially marketed as Benzedrine, as an over-the-counter inhaler to treat nasal congestion and asthma.

Methamphetamine was discovered in Japan in 1919. The crystalline powder was soluble in water, making it a perfect candidate for injection. In the late 30s, it found use for narcolepsy and ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder). It is still legally produced in the U.S., sold under the trade name Desoxyn (Abbott. PDR 2001) with indications for ADHD and for short-term therapy in exogenous obesity.

During World War II, amphetamines were widely used as stimulants to keep the fighting men going (during the Viet Nam war, American soldiers used more amphetamines than the rest of the world did during WWII). And after World War II, when military surplus became available to the public, methamphetamine abuse became epidemic.

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HOMELAND

Victor Penaranda

In the tropics whatever happens
Seems in excess of the expected:
The sun dazzles; the rain pours;
Typhoons visit the islands regularly,
So uncanny, we gave them names
So the most forceful and unsettling
Among them cannot be forgotten.

Our volcanic heritage is undeniable,
Restless or dormant beyond extinction;
Its awesome presence organic to the bone,
Electric in the manner we recognize
Or behold the morning or vein of lightning,
In the way we smile to defy gravity
Or what cannot be asserted in humidity.
The weather becomes unpredictable
As we grow older, as the earth trembles,
Tremors in our bodies silently, nervously,
As relationships fray nearly beyond repair,
Making us firm believers of uncertainty.
The fragile unity of the magical and practical
Compels us to school our children secretly
On the habits of chameleons and dragons,
To teach them to love like ocean without a shore
Until they find a familiar river in the dark night,
Learn how to swim upstream without a clear reason
And why they turn luminous on their way home.

A Bewildering Crash

By Philip Gourevitch 

Flying time from Barcelona to Dusseldorf is an hour and fifty-six minutes—not a long haul—so there’s no reason to imagine that Andreas Lubitz, the co-pilot of Germanwings Flight 9525, could have anticipated that his commander, Captain Patrick Sondenheimer, would get up and leave him alone in the cockpit, as the captain did, a little more than twenty minutes after takeoff on Tuesday, while the plane, an Airbus 320, cruised over the French Alps. There is no reason to imagine, in other words, that Lubitz could have foreseen, on that route, or on that day, much less in that precise airspace, that he would find himself, without any struggle, in a position to lock himself in the cockpit and take control of the plane, initiating its descent, and continuing to fly it steadily down, down, down over eight minutes that must have seemed to anyone conscious of the trajectory a god-awful eternity, especially after the captain began knocking, then shouting, then pounding at the barred cockpit door—flying down, down out of the sky, down into the mountains, down into death: his death and the deaths of the hundred and forty-nine other souls whose fate he had become.

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