South African Shares his Story of curing an Alcoholic

Koos (not his real name) was highly qualified motor mechanic. He was fixing small cars to 18-wheelers.He was alcoholic. He was married and had a son and daughter. Both looked at life responsibility.One day his wife said to him, "Choose now. I will lock the door if you want your alcohol and I will open the door if or when you decide to give it up." He had no choice. He went to AA and got dry.It was about five years after his going to AA that I met him. He was fixing my vehicles.He was religious and was objective about his reading the Bible.
Then I met Paul (not his real name).Both Koos and Paul were rabid racists. Hated anything with Color. He was a handy man. He was alcoholic, and his wife could not tolerate him when he spent his money on a 24 bottle crate of 1Litre beer each weekend. She either poured it all down the kitchen sink or joined him on a drunken weekend. Both methods according to AA are very wrong.

He got the DT's. He suffered terrible bouts of mental stress and physical pain. He complained, and no one could understand the anguish he endured. He phoned his doctor on a Sunday to ask for help. The doctor shouted at him and told him in no uncertain terms that he would only see him on Monday, only after he opened the doors at his consulting rooms.
Since I was his friend, his wife phoned me "please take him away... “So I had him to stay at my parent’s house, where I was staying.
So I told Koos.
"Ja," said Koos. "Bring him around. We will take him to Bill's Room. 100-% success rate to cure alcoholics. Comfortable chairs, psychologists, and nurses in attendance. Bill's Room is highly recommended by those at AA."
Paul just wanted comfort. His pain, real or imagined, needed support.
At least someone would understand him.
Koos told me to meet him on the N3 and in two cars; we would go to Durban to Bill's Room.
We drove. Koos was in the front car.
We got to Toll Gate. (Not Toll Road Plaza. They are two different places.)
Koos turned left off the N3. He entered an Indian area. We thought Koos said that Bill's Room was at the Beach Front with a view of the sea.
Tall palm trees were on both sides of the road.
Koos slowed down then turned left. We went up a steep hill, and Koos turned right and drove into an open area with a small house in the middle. Both Paul and I were now apprehensive! This is not the kind of place Koos told us about.

"Here is Bill's Room. Come into register." Paul got his small suitcase, and we went to the reception.
A bare room and Paul wrote his details in the register. Just one bench where Paul could sit.
“Ok," said Koos, "Let's go. .."
We left Paul behind in a very dismal room.
An old Indian was at reception and did not talk much.
“Sit there," said the Indian.
So Paul sat. Moreover, he sat. We had arrived at 2. Paul had to sit and had nothing to eat or drink. Six o'clock came, and the Indian showed him his room where he was to sleep. Paul followed the Indian, and they entered the room with two bunks. Three beds above each other.
The Indian then took Paul outside and showed him the bath. It was outside. An old concrete basin, handmade. Only cold water and a bar of soap. The tap only let in a small volume of water.

 No protection from anyone walking past. They would see him. Not that anyone would.

He had his bath. He went to sleep. Comfort at last!
He laydown. Then the others came. All races. Indians, Africans & Colored’s. He tried to sleep. No it was impossible, people either while the others chatted.
Paul could not sleep!
Next morning as it was getting light, Paul got his suitcase, made sure no one would stop him, walked to the N3 and hitchhiked to his home in Pietermaritzburg.
At one o’clock, I phoned Paul's wife to find out how he was getting on. "He is at home, here," said his wife.
He never touched another bottle of alcohol again, even until today.

That was the one and only attempt to get someone off the bottle.