The boat brought in opium; she had a man who derived the heroin and morphine, a trained man, an addict. In this end of town, she explained, drug addiction was growing. And why? “The money in it,” I guessed. “Once a man is hooked, he’d do anything to get the money for more. So the pushers build the business and get rich.” “And the addicts steal and kill, if they have to, to get the money. And the women turn into prostitutes. It was growing in this end of town.” “Was growing? Isn’t it any more?” “There hasn’t been a new addict in this neighborhood in three months.” “Why not?” “Nobody’s getting rich from it,” she said. “When angloes can’t get rich, they get out of a business. They don’t want to build new customers for a nonprofit business.” “Don’t tell me you gave it away?” “When we had to. Those who could pay did pay. Those who couldn’t pay didn’t have to pay. They could owe or take charity. Since we started, we have three addicts who seem to be cured, though one can never be sure.
