A life of 'buttons': Ricardo Matthys’ testimony of addiction and redemption
Ricardo Matthys, a recovered drug addict, has spent 25 years battling an addiction to mandrax, commonly known as ‘buttons’.
His journey into addiction began in a broken home, where violence was a constant presence.
“I grew up in a house where both parents were drinking, and when they were drinking, they were fighting. There was always blood; my mother had a knife, my father had a panga and they were fighting until the blood flowed,” Matthys recalls.
As the eldest sibling, he often took his younger brothers to their grandmother’s house for safety.
Eventually, at just 15 years old, he found himself drawn into the Red Devil gang as refuge from the situation at home.
“The leader of the gang, Rudi Kooper, was a man who forced authority and would force us to smoke marijuana as an initiation ritual. My older brother was also a Red Devil and an addict, so while my parents were fighting, he would slip out and go to the gang – and I decided to join him.”
One night in particular marked a turning point in Matthys’ life. “That night was the worst; it was the first night I stabbed a person. We were 25 to 30 guys drinking when someone walked past and threw a stone at my uncle. We all went out to stab that one person. I felt brave when I stabbed that person, and for the first time I felt I belonged.”
Descent into addiction
Matthys’ time in school was short-lived; he was expelled from high school for carrying a knife and smoking marijuana.
“My father was working in the north, and whenever he came home, he would come and be busy with these things [domestic violence]. When I went to high school, he transferred home, but we did not get along – so I ran away.”
At 15 years old, Matthys ran away with his cousin to Windhoek.
“When I got to Windhoek, I just smoked marijuana,” he recalls. “But then I saw people putting this white thing on it (mandrax), and I tried it – and from there on I was hooked.”
He vividly remembers his first experience with the drug: “My life was hell after that. But when I smoked the first ‘button,’ I felt good. The kick of marijuana and mandrax was different, even though there was a lot of sorrow in my heart – I was sleeping in sewage pipes in the rain – [and] I felt very cold and rejected. But when I smoked mandrax, I did not feel any of that.”
Matthys describes how mandrax provided an escape from his harsh reality: “When you smoke a tablet – you are in another atmosphere. You are alright with everything that presses you down; you don’t feel the hunger pangs, the humiliation is forgotten.”
He recalls being drawn in by the response of mandrax addicts: “When that man stands up after falling, it was as if he did not feel a thing. When you smoke tablets, you become ruthless.”
A life consumed by crime
To fund his addiction, Matthys turned to crime – robbing pharmacies and robbing others for money to buy drugs.
“I was really serious on mandrax; since the day I started smoking it, I didn’t skip a day – even when I was in prison.”
There were times when he lay under bridges crying because he longed for home: “Even when we were taken back by our parents to Rehoboth, we would be back in Windhoek the same night.” One day while travelling back to Rehoboth on a bus, Matthys overheard a woman telling the driver about her bag behind him: “I sat right behind the driver and zipped it open. By the time we got to Rehoboth, ‘toe het ek klaar daai geld gesluk’ (I had already swallowed that money).” It was around N$1 000, he said.
As his criminal activities escalated, Matthys became increasingly desperate: “I got rude and edgy; I would even leave my siblings, whom I was looking after, to look for an ‘x’.”
He explains how violence became a means to an end: “If there is no way out, then we use violence. This is where you would rob someone right in front of the merchants’ house.”
Hitting rock bottom
Eventually, Matthys reached rock bottom when he found himself standing on a bridge along Florence Nightingale, contemplating suicide.
“So, I walked from Khomasdal around the age of 16 or 17; life was too much for me. When I got on the bridge along Florence Nightingale, I was hit by a suicidal thought. I decided, ‘jy is tog sleg,’ so let me die.”
Climbing over the railing with plans to jump in front of an oncoming lorry, something inexplicable happened: “I remember making myself free so I could fall easily – but when I opened my eyes the next moment, I was on the other side of the railing. I thought to myself, what happened? I was supposed to jump.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, Matthys sat down on the bridge: “I sat down there – ‘snot and trane’ (crying snot and tears) – and then came back to Rehoboth.”
Despite paying for his crimes – his mother paid penalties and bail – he continued to smoke for years.
Turning point
In December 2021, during a visit with relatives in Keetmanshoop, Matthys experienced another pivotal moment when confronted by his aunt about his drug use:
“‘McWolf,’ she said (a nickname her husband gave me), ‘I will bury you in January if you don’t stop now.’”
Her words struck a deep chord.
On December 23rd – the last day Matthys smoked mandrax – he realised something had changed: “I took my first puff that morning, it didn’t go into my lungs or brain.”
He was frustrated by his inability to get high anymore. The following day at church marked another key moment for Matthys: “My aunt singled me out, saying, ‘You can if you want.’ Matthys said he had a profound connection with God during that service: “When I walked out of the church, I heard the voice of God: ‘Ricardo Matthys, I will release you, but you must follow me.’”
A message for parents
Today, Matthys uses his experiences to warn parents about red flags indicating drug use among children. Among other warning signs, they include sudden changes in appetite or behaviour, such as non-stop talking or joking around excessively, which can be signs of using substances like skunk marijuana, a potent strain popular among youth.
“The youth smokes dagga seriously... schoolchildren come to merchants in their uniform,” he cautions.
Through Soldiers of Christ, an outreach programme he founded after completing training in drug counselling at Lofdal Restoration Centre, Matthys works tirelessly to help addicts where they are: on the streets or even inside drug dealers' homes. “I understand this thing – I know how it feels to be a drug addict and how people treat you,” he says.
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His journey into addiction began in a broken home, where violence was a constant presence.
“I grew up in a house where both parents were drinking, and when they were drinking, they were fighting. There was always blood; my mother had a knife, my father had a panga and they were fighting until the blood flowed,” Matthys recalls.
As the eldest sibling, he often took his younger brothers to their grandmother’s house for safety.
Eventually, at just 15 years old, he found himself drawn into the Red Devil gang as refuge from the situation at home.
“The leader of the gang, Rudi Kooper, was a man who forced authority and would force us to smoke marijuana as an initiation ritual. My older brother was also a Red Devil and an addict, so while my parents were fighting, he would slip out and go to the gang – and I decided to join him.”
One night in particular marked a turning point in Matthys’ life. “That night was the worst; it was the first night I stabbed a person. We were 25 to 30 guys drinking when someone walked past and threw a stone at my uncle. We all went out to stab that one person. I felt brave when I stabbed that person, and for the first time I felt I belonged.”
Descent into addiction
Matthys’ time in school was short-lived; he was expelled from high school for carrying a knife and smoking marijuana.
“My father was working in the north, and whenever he came home, he would come and be busy with these things [domestic violence]. When I went to high school, he transferred home, but we did not get along – so I ran away.”
At 15 years old, Matthys ran away with his cousin to Windhoek.
“When I got to Windhoek, I just smoked marijuana,” he recalls. “But then I saw people putting this white thing on it (mandrax), and I tried it – and from there on I was hooked.”
He vividly remembers his first experience with the drug: “My life was hell after that. But when I smoked the first ‘button,’ I felt good. The kick of marijuana and mandrax was different, even though there was a lot of sorrow in my heart – I was sleeping in sewage pipes in the rain – [and] I felt very cold and rejected. But when I smoked mandrax, I did not feel any of that.”
Matthys describes how mandrax provided an escape from his harsh reality: “When you smoke a tablet – you are in another atmosphere. You are alright with everything that presses you down; you don’t feel the hunger pangs, the humiliation is forgotten.”
He recalls being drawn in by the response of mandrax addicts: “When that man stands up after falling, it was as if he did not feel a thing. When you smoke tablets, you become ruthless.”
A life consumed by crime
To fund his addiction, Matthys turned to crime – robbing pharmacies and robbing others for money to buy drugs.
“I was really serious on mandrax; since the day I started smoking it, I didn’t skip a day – even when I was in prison.”
There were times when he lay under bridges crying because he longed for home: “Even when we were taken back by our parents to Rehoboth, we would be back in Windhoek the same night.” One day while travelling back to Rehoboth on a bus, Matthys overheard a woman telling the driver about her bag behind him: “I sat right behind the driver and zipped it open. By the time we got to Rehoboth, ‘toe het ek klaar daai geld gesluk’ (I had already swallowed that money).” It was around N$1 000, he said.
As his criminal activities escalated, Matthys became increasingly desperate: “I got rude and edgy; I would even leave my siblings, whom I was looking after, to look for an ‘x’.”
He explains how violence became a means to an end: “If there is no way out, then we use violence. This is where you would rob someone right in front of the merchants’ house.”
Hitting rock bottom
Eventually, Matthys reached rock bottom when he found himself standing on a bridge along Florence Nightingale, contemplating suicide.
“So, I walked from Khomasdal around the age of 16 or 17; life was too much for me. When I got on the bridge along Florence Nightingale, I was hit by a suicidal thought. I decided, ‘jy is tog sleg,’ so let me die.”
Climbing over the railing with plans to jump in front of an oncoming lorry, something inexplicable happened: “I remember making myself free so I could fall easily – but when I opened my eyes the next moment, I was on the other side of the railing. I thought to myself, what happened? I was supposed to jump.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, Matthys sat down on the bridge: “I sat down there – ‘snot and trane’ (crying snot and tears) – and then came back to Rehoboth.”
Despite paying for his crimes – his mother paid penalties and bail – he continued to smoke for years.
Turning point
In December 2021, during a visit with relatives in Keetmanshoop, Matthys experienced another pivotal moment when confronted by his aunt about his drug use:
“‘McWolf,’ she said (a nickname her husband gave me), ‘I will bury you in January if you don’t stop now.’”
Her words struck a deep chord.
On December 23rd – the last day Matthys smoked mandrax – he realised something had changed: “I took my first puff that morning, it didn’t go into my lungs or brain.”
He was frustrated by his inability to get high anymore. The following day at church marked another key moment for Matthys: “My aunt singled me out, saying, ‘You can if you want.’ Matthys said he had a profound connection with God during that service: “When I walked out of the church, I heard the voice of God: ‘Ricardo Matthys, I will release you, but you must follow me.’”
A message for parents
Today, Matthys uses his experiences to warn parents about red flags indicating drug use among children. Among other warning signs, they include sudden changes in appetite or behaviour, such as non-stop talking or joking around excessively, which can be signs of using substances like skunk marijuana, a potent strain popular among youth.
“The youth smokes dagga seriously... schoolchildren come to merchants in their uniform,” he cautions.
Through Soldiers of Christ, an outreach programme he founded after completing training in drug counselling at Lofdal Restoration Centre, Matthys works tirelessly to help addicts where they are: on the streets or even inside drug dealers' homes. “I understand this thing – I know how it feels to be a drug addict and how people treat you,” he says.
- [email protected]
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