Frequently, though, many people in my life who are familiar with my horrid drug and alcohol odyssey still offer me a drink. I understand that it’s not their responsibility to worry about my addiction, but it still strikes me as odd. I’m often asked why I can’t have just a glass of wine or why I still consider myself an addict when I’ve been clean for so long. They’re surprised that my cravings never went away, and perplexed why it is still difficult for me to be near liquor.

For 15 years I was a heavy drug and alcohol user. After trying to quit repeatedly—and failing miserably—I finally asked for help in 1988. My recovery began with spending 31 days in a rehab, then decades of therapy, plus 28 years of surrounding myself with sober addicts who “get it.” Am I cured? No. But I’m grateful for the daily reprieve.

It seems that no matter how many articles are written and read, and documentaries made and seen, those who do not suffer from addiction have an inability to relate to my illness. I decided to post a query on Facebook: What is the hardest thing to understand about those that suffer with addiction? 

Within two days I had 100 responses. Here are the most commonly asked questions and my answers for The Fix. (Note: These are my answers and represent my experiences and feelings and those of the many addicts and alcoholics I have met in nearly three decades of being in recovery communities. Please note that not everyone who struggles with addiction or who identifies as an addict will have these same answers.)

Questions and Answers

Why do addicts have a skeptical view that others can use substances casually?

In many cases, it’s because we can’t. For me it is a combination of jealousy and disbelief. I minimized and denied my problem for so long, I can make the mistake of projecting my experience onto others and thinking they are in denial.

Heroin withdrawal symptoms sound like a flu. I’ve had really bad flus but I know it’ll end. What keeps heroin addicts from not just powering through it?

Addiction is a physical and mental disorder. Underneath many addictions is an underlying inability to tolerate negative feelings. Addicts believe in a substance in the way many describe believing in god. The substance is soothing, our best friend, our protector, the one thing that will take away our pain. It is mentally-ill thinking because whatever euphoria and pleasure we found at the beginning of our substance use is no longer attainable by the time we are deep into our addiction. But just like Pavlov’s dogs, we practically drool for our substance of choice. Without it, we fear the return of often paralyzing pain and depression.  Also, with heroin, the physical malady of quitting is horrific and we know that the one thing to stop it immediately is more heroin. If everyone who had the flu knew of one substance that would immediately take away the nearly unbearable symptoms, wouldn’t they be compelled to take it?

I can almost hear the non-addict saying, “But if I knew it was bad for me, I wouldn’t take it.” Yes, and that right there is the difference between a non-addict and an addict. An addict craves the very thing they are “allergic” to. The compulsion to use is so strong, it often wins out.

When an addict craves a substance, their logical mind is not working. They’re not thinking, “This is bad for me.” They’re thinking, “I need this right now. I must have it. I cannot go on another second without it.”

We don’t think about anything else in that moment. We are not able to care about our loved ones, or our health, or job, or beloved pets. The craving is the loudest thing in our head and forces every other thought out—including the thought that there will be horrible consequences if we use again.

What are the reasons people get addicted in the first place? How do the drugs make them feel?

When I was on a drug, it quieted down the noise of anxiety and depression in my head. The closest comparison I can think of is wrapping myself in a down coat when I was freezing cold. The substance seemed necessary. I found drugs and alcohol as a young teenager and they lit my head up like a pinball machine. At the same time my frontal lobe—the brain region that makes decisions like “Okay, you’ve had enough, go home and get some sleep”—might as well have been in a coma. It did not function when I was under the influence. The pleasure center always took over. When that happened, I basked in the euphoria and the absence of anxiety, self-consciousness, and despair.

Every addict I have ever spoken to in the past 28 years has understood that “noise in my head.” It was a constant gnawing of negative thoughts that I didn’t have the power to shut off. Along came substances that made all the negative chatter shut up. It was new and wonderful and a tremendous relief. It made me feel “normal,” i.e., like everybody else seemed to be.

How do genetics play a role? Why do some people in the same family become addicts while others don’t?

That is the $60-million-dollar question. Science cannot provide a definitive equation to explain how much genetics play a role in addiction and how much is determined by life experiences, but there are many educated opinions. Neuroscientist Dr. Nora Volkow of the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), believes that addiction can be explained by dopamine in the brain. Another addiction expert, Canadian physician Dr. Gabor Maté, believes “emotions are deeply implicated in both the development of illness, addictions and disorders, and in their healing.”

The National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (NCADD) states that genetics make up only 50% of the risk for alcohol and drug dependence.

For example, if one sibling underwent a trauma and the other did not, that might explain why only one becomes an addict. Another factor may be personality and it’s not clear how much a personality is formed by nature vs. nurture. There are a multitude of studies on this topic, but as we all know, studies need to be studied in order to determine their accuracy. Most studies can present facts in a way that support the author’s hypothesis.

Does sobriety become easier over time or is there always a temptation to use?

That depends on the particular person. I know many sober peeps who gave up drugs and alcohol and no longer wrestle with cravings. That hasn’t been the case for me. When I smell alcohol, I crave it. I’ve made sure to avoid any situation where someone might have cocaine and ask me if I’d like to snort a line. I don’t know how I’d react in that situation and I don’t want to gamble.

There are sober alcoholics who can bartend and people who were addicted to drugs who can deal drugs. That would never be possible for me. My desire to use remains strong. I stay sober by using the tools that I’ve learned and by staying away from temptations.

Why have a child or children when you are more interested in your addiction?

This question made me tear up. It was asked by a woman who is open about having been raised in an abusive alcoholic home. The phrasing relays pain and resentment. Sadly, it is an unanswerable question. Everyone’s situation is different and none of us believe that our addictions will take over our lives and hurt the ones we love. Most parents have the best of intentions for bringing a child into the world. If they are aware of their addiction, they probably don’t feel that it will affect their ability to parent. Perhaps the pregnancy was accidental and abortion or adoption did not feel like options.

I have chosen to live child-free for myriad reasons. One of the strongest was the fear that I might pass along addiction, depression and anxiety. For me, it was the right decision. My guess is that most parents do not have children with the intention of treating them horribly and causing them enormous pain, but sadly humans aren’t always equipped to take care of themselves, let alone their children.

Why do addicts drag their families halfway into the grave with them?

They don’t. Anyone who loves someone with an addiction needs to get professional help to learn how to protect themselves and their children. People in active addiction can be out of control and may hurt and manipulate the people closest to them.

Why does someone start?

The reasons are different for each person. For me it was a combination of curiosity and rebellion. I wanted to do what I wasn’t supposed to do, like some kind of rite of passage towards adulthood. I romanticized dead rock stars who’d lived fast and died young. I wanted to die because life felt too hard.

Can an addict see how sick they are when they look in the mirror?

Sometimes, but denial is a large part of any addiction. Many addicts lie to themselves. Most minimize, justify, and rationalize what they’re doing to themselves and others.

How is it so easy to lie about everything?

That is part of the mental illness. I believed my own lies. I also felt dissociated. I didn’t have a compass for right and wrong anymore. I ran on the fumes of need. One therapist described me as sociopathic. That may or may not have been true. I was traumatized by a gang rape at 13 by classmates. I became cut off from my feelings and reality. I was enraged and incapable of empathizing with others in a normal way.

Why do addicts blame other people?

When an addict blames other people, it could be that their sense of reality is so altered that they actually believe their problems were caused by other people. Or they might be attempting to gain sympathy and attention. Or maybe they are trying to manipulate others in order to get what they believe they need.

What is it about life that is so hard that an addict can’t handle it without drugs or alcohol?

I can only answer for myself. I had obsessive and horrible thoughts. I hated myself and I wanted to die. I obsessed about ways to kill myself. When I tried drugs and alcohol, all of that was lifted when I was high. It was like magic. When that magic stopped working I kept believing that I could get it back. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, “Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.” Every addict I have ever known had that form of insanity.

Is there a way to prevent it?

I’ve thought about that for decades. I still don’t know the answer. I think if there were a reliable means of prevention, we would have heard about it.

She went to her first rehab in 2012, but denial said she only needed two weeks of treatment. It’s no surprise that didn’t work and the disease progressed. In 2014, she went to a second rehab but left prematurely. She went home and drank again. Resigned and humiliated, she returned to that second rehab. Now sober for two years, Vargas is committed to sobriety but understands we only have a daily reprieve from alcohol.

“My story is different than others I’ve heard ‘in the rooms,’” she told me. “I drank moderately for 20 years. It wasn’t until my 40s that I fell off a cliff.”

Vargas described a day in 2012 when she showed up at ABC too drunk to work. “I stepped out of the car and stumbled. That’s when I knew I was in no condition to conduct an interview. My friend took one look at me and knew.” Her first rehab was that year at Cirque Lodge in Utah. “I look back on a lot of the writing that I did,” she said. “I’m struck by the lectures and therapists there. It was a very good experience.” But after leaving the Utah rehab after only two weeks, she was not able to stay sober and her alcoholism progressed. Vargas blames a combination of factors. “Stress at work, and then being diagnosed with post-partum anxiety. My drinking was suddenly on steroids and I had huge consequences.”

“I’d had lots of brownouts,” she said, “but never a blackout.” That is until one day when she began drinking in the early afternoon after work. “The next thing I remember is waking up at four a.m. in the emergency room with zero memory of what happened. I had a blood alcohol level of .4, which is lethal. I’m told a woman saw me at Riverside Park in my work clothes and wobbling in high heels.”

Two predatory men were eyeing Vargas so the concerned passerby intervened and got the drunk newscaster home safely. But Vargas passed out in the lobby and was taken away in an ambulance. The incident scared her enough to stop drinking and she went to her second rehab.

“It was a rude awakening. I woke up in Tennessee. My husband and therapist picked that rehab. I don’t understand how anybody would’ve picked it. Even my therapist there said, ‘This is not the right place for you. I don’t know how on earth you ended up here.’ But once there, I couldn’t get out.”

In the memoir that second rehab in 2014 is referred to as The Center. But Vargas told me, “I wrote that it was in rural Tennessee so most people can figure out it’s really The Ranch. For some people I’m sure it’s a life-saving gift but it wasn’t the best place for me. Most of the patients were in their teens and twenties. We had different life experiences and different issues.”

The newscaster confided that she already suffered with guilt. “Making my shame front and center wasn’t the best way to go. I wasn’t thinking about getting better and saving my life. I was thinking, ‘How do I get home?’ I wasn’t seeing my children and was desperate to know what was going on. I feared that my husband was hiring divorce lawyers and starting to date other people.” Frantic, she left prematurely against advice and learned her suspicions were correct.

I asked if she thought drinking caused the divorce. “My husband would say it did,” she said. “It’s easy to judge him but I didn’t walk in his shoes. I don’t know what it was like to be married to an alcoholic. I’m sure it was really difficult.”

Vargas said she would die for her sons. “I love them more than anything in the world. I would do anything for my children. But I couldn’t stop drinking for them.”

I pointed out that many interviewers still don’t seem to understand alcoholism. Vargas agreed. “They don’t. Trust me. Many people have no concept that this is a disease. To tell an alcoholic to stop drinking is like telling someone born with depression to be happy….”

* * *

Vargas said, “I asked my son last night, ‘Why do you think I’m writing this book?’ He said, ‘Because you’re brave and want to help people.’ I hope people will be kind.”

She confided, “As a child, I was shy and quiet because of my tremendous anxiety.” As an “army brat,” she moved almost every year. “I was bullied mercilessly from third grade through junior high. You’d have to learn how to fit in,” she said. “A lot of times, I didn’t.”

I asked if she thinks: Yeah, well, look at me now! Vargas said, “No, you never shed those horrible feelings. My earliest memories are infused with fear.”

Read more…

The book “Between Breaths: A Memoir of Panic and Addiction” by Elizabeth Vargas is now available for purchase on Amazon.

“I was rapidly approaching cirrhosis and my doctors said I might have liver cancer,” said Jefferys. Like millions of people worldwide, his liver was being destroyed by the hepatitis C virus (HCV).

As is typical of HCV victims, Jefferys had no idea he’d had it since the mid-70s. In August 2014, he was diagnosed and told he had contracted it when shooting drugs.

“I left home at 16,” he told me, “and was happy in a kind of crazy way. I was a mixed-up kid living on the streets and couch surfing. I drifted from the hippie culture into the drug culture and became a casual heroin user for a year. Then, for the next year, I became seriously addicted, but I quit cold turkey after seeing a few friends OD.”

HCV is a global epidemic. An estimated 200 million people across the globe have the disease—that’s 3.3% of the population—including 3 to 5 million in the U.S., many of whom don’t know they have it. Seventy-five percent of those with HCV infection in the United States were born between 1945 and 1965. The largest group is those who shared needles when they shot drugs. Statistically, as many people are infected with HCV as are with HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. Without large-scale efforts to contain the spread of HCV and treat infected populations, the death rate from HCV will surpass that of AIDS by the end of this century and will only get worse.

For every 100 people infected with HCV without treatment, 75 to 85 will develop chronic infection, 60 to 70 will develop chronic liver disease, 5 to 20 will develop cirrhosis, and 1 to 5 will die of cirrhosis or liver cancer. HCV is also the most common reason for liver transplants.

Gilead Sciences, known best for its HIV/AIDS treatments, is now the leader in HCV drugs—Sovaldi (sofosbuvir) and Harvoni (ledipasvir and sofosbuvir)—which can cure nearly all patients within 2 to 3 months. The obstacle is the grossly inflated price tag. Sovaldi costs $1,000 per pill, and Harvoni costs $1,125. According to the Wall Street Journal, the sales total for Harvoni and Sovaldi reached $19.14 billion in 2015. For comparison’s sake, it took Pfizer’s blockbuster medicine Lipitor nine years before it reached its record-breaking sales of $12.9 billion.

When Jefferys was diagnosed in August 2014, he knew he could never afford the drugs he needed to cure his HCV. Three months of pills would’ve cost him close to USD$100,000. That’s when he began an exhaustive Internet search for an alternative. He finally found it in India, where the generic Indian Harvoni for the entire 12-week treatment cost the equivalent of USD$1,350—only slightly more than the cost of one single pill here in America.

Jefferys said, “Gilead has licensed four major Indian pharmaceutical manufacturers to make and distribute licensed generic versions of Harvoni. The four licensed manufacturers are Cipla, Mylan, Natco Pharma, and Hetero, and all their products are chemically identical.”

In 2015, Jefferys flew from Australia to Chennai, India. He purchased the generic meds and underwent his 12-week treatment there. Within 11 days, his liver functions returned to normal, and within four weeks, no virus was detected in his blood. The trip and treatment cost him less than $4,000.

I’ve dubbed Jefferys the Tasmanian Angel because after he learned where to find affordable lifesaving meds for his HCV, he reached out to help others. I asked Jefferys if he got the idea for helping HCV sufferers access generic pills from the movie Dallas Buyers Club. That’s when the Australian’s warm grin filled my monitor for the first time. “I watched the Dallas Buyers Club after I first started doing this. Watching it did give me a few good ideas.”

Unlike Ron Woodroof (Matthew McConaughey’s character in the film), however, Jefferys is not motivated by money. “When I first started helping people to access affordable hep C medicines,” said Jefferys, “I never thought it would become a full-time occupation. But it has. I don’t want to profit from people’s sickness, though. There is enough of that going on already.”

Jefferys continued, “When I started, I didn’t think it would become such a big thing, so I did everything for free. When it started to take up so much of my time, I told people, ‘Look, if you can afford to give me a small amount of my time, that would be very much appreciated, but if you can’t, that’s okay, too.’

“Now, if I handle a transaction from beginning to end where someone says, ‘I want you to do everything for me. I’ll send you the money. You send it to your contact. You organize all the documents.’ In that case, I say, ‘I’ll charge a fee for that, but if you can’t afford the fee, then you don’t have to pay it.’”

He told me about a woman he’s currently helping. “She’s from Serbia, and her mother has hepatitis C. I’m organizing everything for her and doing that at below my cost. In Serbia, the income is about $50 dollars a week. I don’t want to make any money on that transaction.”

What about the legalities? Jefferys said, “It is perfectly legal to go to another country, buy generic drugs, and bring them home. Things get blurry when you get generics shipped to you. If you go to China and buy a box of counterfeit Ray Bans sunglasses and bring them home to the U.S. to sell them, that’s illegal. It’s a breach of patent law. But, if you’re in the U.S. and mail-order one pair of counterfeit Ray-Bans from China and have them sent to you for your own use, that’s not illegal. It’s the same with generic drugs. It’s the difference between buying something to make a commercial profit or for personal use. I help people buy medication for their own use; I am not selling it.”

Most of his work gives people information and honest and reliable contacts in countries where they can buy generics, such as India, Bangladesh, Thailand, Australia, and Honduras.

Why hasn’t Gilead gone after Jefferys? He said, “A Gilead insider told me that when I first started doing this, Gilead got advice from a ‘crisis manager’ who told them that if they went after me, it would just generate bad publicity for them and make a martyr out of me so. They have just decided to leave me alone.”

And it’s great that they did. Jefferys has gotten so involved in this issue that he was invited to the prestigious annual conference of the European Association for the Study of the Liver (EASL). Jefferys said, “It’s been nearly a year since I was sitting on a plane flying over central Australia on my way to Chennai in India to find generic sofosbuvir. So much has changed since then. A year ago, my body was wracked with the hepatitis C virus.”

His eyes grew sad as he relived his ordeal. “I was exhausted most of the time and spent hours in bed every day. My blood was poisoned, and even my wife was scared of accidentally coming in contact with a drop of my blood. I was scared to play with my grandson in case I infected him.”

Now, his HCV is completely gone. He can swim or walk in the mountains for hours. On April 6, he flew to Barcelona, Spain for the 2016 EASL Conference being held April 13 to 17. He shared his story to demonstrate how vital generic HCV medicines are. He was among the top liver specialists, including scientific researchers, medical experts, and advocates fighting for policy change on treating liver disease. Jefferys even co-authored a paper by Dr. James Freeman from the Department of Emergency Medicine at Royal Hobart Hospital in Australia.

Jefferys said, “I hope Dr. Freeman’s presentation made medical professionals, particularly liver specialists, aware of the importance of generics, especially the licensed Indian generic hepatitis C meds.”

Last year, Jefferys studied the 2015 EASL conference papers for up-to-date information on treating hep C. “It was a steep learning curve,” he said. “Before I was diagnosed in August 2014, I didn’t even know what hep C was.”

I asked Jefferys what he thought of Gilead’s defense: their profit margin is justifiable due to all of the time and effort put into research and development for these HCV medications. Jeffrey’s response? “That is just bullshit. They didn’t put any research into it. They bought a patent, a finished product, and they marked it way up.”

He has no problem with research companies making a profit, “but,” he said, “it has to be a fair profit.”

At the end of our interview, I said, “You must have amazing karma now after helping so many strangers.”

The Tasmanian Angel said, “It’s a privilege, isn’t it? You don’t get a chance like that often. I guess once you’re my age, you look back on your life. I’ve had a good one, so it’s a great feeling to give back.”

Becca Foster, who works as an independent contractor with an in-home cannabis shop, told the Atlantic, “It’s a new chance for many women who have been in the corporate world who couldn’t get to the next level.”
The Fix reached out to a few cannabusiness entrepreneurs. Jordan Person, 35-year-old executive director of Denver NORML, founded the successful company Primal Therapeutics. “We are a mobile service,” she tells The Fix, “which is the best way to be compliant with the current law.” Yes, those laws can be tricky. All of these businesses have to work within the regulations.
Person, who worked as a nurse for 15 years and a massage therapist for a decade, said, “When I was working at a medical marijuana dispensary, I decided to find my niche in the cannabis industry. And that’s how cannabis-infused massage therapy was born.” She explained that she combined her knowledge of nursing, anatomy, and physiology with what she already knew about the healing aspects of the plant.
Her topical products contain a mix of essential oils and cannabinoids CBD (cannabidiol) and THC (tetrahydrocannabinol). The blended aromatic oils are used during her deep tissue massages.
“I feel empowered every morning,” said Person. “This is an industry that encourages women to just go out and seize the day. Most industries are male-dominated but this one is not. It’s one of the most welcoming industries I have ever been a part of.”
Heidi Keyes, the owner of Denver-based Puff, Pass & Paint told The Fix, “Marijuana became legal here and I was working as an artist. One of my friends said, ‘Hey, you know those wine and paint classes? You should do that with cannabis.’ So I put some feelers out and [business] picked up right away. It started as a very small business and now it’s in Denver, Portland and D.C. We’re going to be in Las Vegas, Arizona and California soon.”
“What started as something I was passionate about and was fun to do, turned into a very successful business that is now nationwide,” said Keyes. “That’s pretty cool to be a part of. It’s a really exciting time to be in this industry. It has the highest amount of women CEOs and owners. It’s a billion-dollar industry and women aren’t asking for permission from men anymore to succeed. We’re coming up with great ideas and bringing them to fruition on our own.”
Kendal Norris, the founder of Boulder’s Mason Jar Event Group, described the rise in female entrepreneurs in the cannabis industry as a grassroots (pun intended) support effort. Norris told The Fix, “There are organizations like Women in Weed and Women Grow that saw the opportunity for women to become the driving force in the cannabis industry, and they’ve been very successful in bringing together female executives and women who are curious about the opportunities. Whatever questions I had, there were so many women to reach out to.”

Since the fall of the Taliban, the production of opium has skyrocketed. Afghanistan produces 90% of the world’s supply and 11% of the population there are addicts. Drug addiction is not recognized as a disease there and only a limited infrastructure for treatment exists.
Laila Haidari, 36, is an Afghan woman risking everything to save heroin addicts. Her older brother, Hakim, was an addict for 25 years. Laila is a former child bride, married against her will at age 12 to a much older man. She had her first child by 13 and by the end of her teen years, Laila had three children.
She wanted desperately to help her drug-addicted brother and escape her own unhappy life. At 21, Laila left her husband. It was a bold decision for an Afghan woman then living as a refugee in Iran. By leaving her husband, she was shunned by her family and her husband took her beloved children. With no rights and no help, she returned to her motherland, Afghanistan.

Filmmaker Elissa Sylvia Mirzaei, born in Pennsylvania, has lived in Afghanistan for eight years. She speaks fluent Dari and is drawn to intimate stories that reveal the complexity, beauty and tragedies of Afghanistan from an Afghan perspective. Shocked by the number of drug addicts using openly on the streets, Elissa felt helpless witnessing passersby step over the huddled and skeletal masses of dying junkies. She and her husband, Gulistan Mirzaei, founders of Mirzaei Films, met Laila in 2012 and were inspired to make their first feature-length documentary, Laila at the Bridge.

Dorri Olds: What does your film title, Laila at the Bridge, refer to?
Elissa Mirzaei: Laila Haidari is an amazing woman who courageously fled her situation and with her intense drive created a documentary about Afghan women that won awards at numerous festivals in the country. But, when Laila crossed over a notorious bridge in Kabul, known as pol-e-sokhta, which means “burned bridge,” she found her life’s true calling. She was horrified by the conditions she saw people living in by this putrid river, drug addicts injecting heroin amidst corpses. Men and women from all classes and castes and ethnic groups were suffering. Inspired by Mother Teresa, and desperate to help her addicted brother, she decided to start her own free treatment center.
The title comes from Laila’s work, which is based around the notorious bridge full of tragedy and death, but also because she offers another bridge to a new life. She sees herself as offering a lantern, leading the way down a path out of the darkness, but it’s ultimately up to the individual whether they will follow that path and stay clean. Another unique aspect of Laila’s Mother Camp is that addicts help other addicts. Those who have withdrawn and are on the road to recovery welcome new arrivals, shave their heads, wash their bodies caked in months of dirt from living under the bridge, give them hope and tell them that they’re in this together and they can get clean once and for all.
 
Do Laila’s “Mother Camps” provide methadone?
No, Laila’s center is a simple, low-cost operation that relies on cold-turkey withdrawal and the 12-step program. While cold-turkey withdrawal from heroin may shock us in the West, in the three years I’ve filmed the documentary about Laila, I have never seen it cause any medical problems for those in recovery. In fact, the opposite is true.
Is Laila in danger?
Yes, the world under the bridge is dangerous but not only due to the desperate addicts under the bridge, but also from the many drug dealers. By treating addicts, Laila is taking away their customers. She has been attacked on several occasions and threatened numerous times, but refuses to give up. Another huge threat is the corrupt policemen that take a cut from every dealer in exchange for not arresting them. As a woman in Afghanistan doing this work on her own, she faces many challenges but Laila is no victim. In our film, one of our intentions is to make sure that Laila never comes across as a victim, despite her hardships. She’s an incredibly strong, brave, and complex woman who is determined to change things.
My husband and I have had some risky situations. Corrupt policemen who became aware of our frequent presence at the bridge for our film have followed us. There are good policemen in Afghanistan, but even high-level government officials are involved in the drug trade. We in the West hear that it’s the Taliban who are profiting from the drug trade but we found out that’s only part of the story. The drug mafia is far more dangerous than the Taliban. One of the aims of our film is to show how complex Afghanistan is and that it’s not always clear who the enemy is. What the West understands about the Afghan people is actually very little. Our film is about a country that is broken after many wars, where every Afghan family has a scar and part of the collective trauma is addiction.

Laila and Elissa
Click here for more photos
Learn more about the Mirzaei film, Laila at the Bridge