FREEDOM RECOVERY CENTRE LIVES UP TO ITS NAME, PROVIDING A HOME BASED ON DIGNITY, STRUCTURE AND HEALING

By Precious Mupenzi.

• The Freedom Recovery Centre in Nigel, Gauteng, shines a light for those going through their darkest moments, providing a healing, stable and nurturing environment.
• Forty-two-year-old *Thabo Matsapa, who began using drugs at just 11, made the brave decision to change his life around and arrived at the Freedom Recovery Centre in August last year.
• Now working at the centre, Matsapa says the centre’s staff believed in him when he could not believe in himself.

A sharp winter chill lingers in the air as we arrive in Nigel, a small gold mining town to the south-east of Johannesburg, Gauteng. As we make our way through the gates of the Freedom Recovery Centre, the name itself begins to feel prophetic.

The air is fresh, the grounds calm, and the sun gently warms a group of service users gathered outside, soaking up the midmorning rays.

Cheerful smiles greet the Department of Social Development’s news team, led by the acting head of communication in the Department of Social Development, Bathembu Futshane. The warmth from the centre’s human resources manager, Pieter Stols, and social worker Thembi Khoza immediately puts us at ease.

As we share a light moment and a few jokes, I quickly realise this visit will be unlike any other.

It’s my first time inside a rehabilitation facility, and my eyes dart across the space, curious, slightly overwhelmed, and eager to understand how recovery unfolds here.

I also take a quiet moment to reflect on my own journey on how far I’ve come in understanding the deep and often damaging stigma pushed onto service users: the name-calling, the dismissive labels, and the harmful language that does nothing to uplift those trying to rebuild their lives.

I feel grateful to Faith Namathe, my colleague and social work policy manager responsible for substance abuse at the Department of Social Development, for giving me a masterclass in substance abuse language, teaching me that words carry weight and that people deserve dignity, not judgment.

And to Neliswa Cekiso, the director for children, whose calm voice, empathy, and professional poise became my inner guide during all the interviews conducted for this assignment. She made me fall in love with social work in ways that made me question whether I had chosen the right profession.

Home, not just a centre

After a short briefing, we begin our tour. First stop: the kitchen and dining hall, followed by a cosy lounge that feels like a proper home. The classroom is already abuzz with activity lessons in full swing as part of the centre’s skills development programme.

The bedrooms are immaculate. Blue duvets neatly cover each bed, and the windows are wide open, letting in the winter sun and crisp air. You could spot a needle with ease on the gleaming floors, and the shoes are perfectly aligned.

Every space resonates with structure and dignity.

Walking beside me is *Thabo Matsapa, a softly spoken man from Dobsonville, who carefully guides me, explaining things I don’t understand, and patiently answering all my questions.

At one point, I ask him, “Baphi kanti osisi?” (Where are the women?) After all, we’d been told the centre accommodates both genders.

He chuckles. “We’ll take you there. Not everyone is allowed into the female section. We try to avoid unnecessary interaction that might cause distractions. But I’m allowed because I’m an assistant house father.”

That ignites my curiosity. I want to know more.

From healing to plumbing: The journey of Thabo Matsapa

Matsapa’s role as a house father involves supporting in-house service users as they adapt to the facility, offering immediate assistance, emotional support, and ensuring the environment remains stable and nurturing. His discipline, composure, and commitment are unmistakable.

But it’s his story that truly stops me in my tracks.

“My sister, I broke my family into pieces, especially my granny, ugogo wami,” he says.

Matsapa began using drugs at just 11.

Now 42, he arrived at the Freedom Recovery Centre in August last year. “Before this, I only knew how to steal. I never imagined that one day I’d know how to operate a computer, I only knew how to steal it,” he says, half smiling.

He proudly shares how he now has plumbing skills and eagerly shows me the work he and other service users have done on-site. “I’m working here now. I get a stipend and send money home to my granny; she’s always been my pillar.”

Matsapa dropped out of school in Grade 10, despite being one of the brightest in class.

“Peer pressure and the desire for expensive things got me into trouble. When you’re craving drugs, you’ll do anything, rob, steal, even kill. I’ve been to jail. I joined gangs. I broke my granny and sister’s hearts.”

Matsapa says he went nearly a year without contacting his family, completely consumed by his addiction.

“No one knew where I was. I had disappeared. And deep inside, I knew I was destroying everything my granny had built into me.”

After being in and out of jail and watching his life spiral deeper into darkness, he made the decision to change his ways, a journey he describes as difficult but worth it.

“It hasn’t been easy,” he admits, “but choosing recovery was the best decision I ever made. I’m grateful to the Freedom Recovery Centre, and especially to the social workers here, for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.”

Six weeks into his recovery, he took up the opportunity to visit home. “When I arrived, they welcomed me. My granny said, ‘Awukho umgqomo wokulahla umuntu’, meaning you don’t throw a person away.”

He looks me in the eye. “If I could, I’d turn back the clock. But I thank God for this second chance. I’m ready to live differently now.”

A recovery model rooted in compassion and structure

Founded in 2012 and formally registered in 2013, the Freedom Recovery Centre has grown from a modest five-bed facility into one of Gauteng’s leading Department of Social Development-funded treatment centres, with 124 beds, over 90 of them subsidised. It has a special focus on youth aged 18 to 35, the most vulnerable demographic.

The centre runs a 12-week primary treatment programme, focused on psychosocial healing and behavioural change.

While there were proposals to shorten the programme to six weeks, the centre remaineds firm. “By week six, you’ve only detoxed someone. That’s not recovery. We refuse to compromise.”

After completing the primary phase, service users may move into a Department of Social Development-subsidised halfway house for an additional 12 to 24 weeks.

The halfway house currently accommodates 42 individuals, and plans are underway to open a dedicated space for female clients, as well as a mother-and-child rehabilitation model, a first in the country.

Skills that rebuild lives

In 2023, the Department of Social Development funded the centre’s skills development programme, which has since expanded from sewing and computer training to include plumbing, welding, and baking.

These interventions not only equip service users with practical skills but also instil pride, purpose, and the ability to provide for themselves and their families.

The results speak for themselves: a 97% completion rate and less than 3% refusal-of-treatment rate.

Training, mentorship, and national influence

Beyond direct service, the Freedom Recovery Centre has become a mentor and trainer to other emerging rehabilitation centres across the country, from the Barberton Recovery Centre in Mpumalanga to the Jermelo Rehabilitation Centre in Polokwane, which now successfully runs Freedom’s programme.

The centre is fostering growth beyond its own walls.

“We’re not in competition with anyone,” says Stols. “MEC Faith Mazibuko once said we’re short 2 000 beds. There’s more than enough work for all of us.” Mazibuko is the Gauteng MEC for Social Development.

The centre also enjoys a strong relationship with the Central Drug Authority.

Having aligned its practices with the National Drug Master Plan, the Freedom Recovery Centre is recognised as a valuable voice in the national response to substance abuse. Stols has even nominated one of his colleagues to serve on the Central Drug Authority’s board.

Doing more with less

Despite rising demand, especially in Gauteng, where drug addiction rose from 30% in 2019 to over 60% in 2023, the Freedom Recovery Centre continues to operate on the same per-person budget from 2023/2024.

“We’re carrying a national burden with no increase in funding. But we remain grateful. We are where we’re meant to be,” says Stols.

A vision of excellence

With 70 staff members, eight social workers, and a holistic model that integrates treatment, reintegration, and empowerment, the Freedom Recovery Centre is more than just a rehabilitation facility. It’s a place of dignity, healing, and transformation.

“We’re not officially called a Centre of Excellence yet,” says Stols, “but with what we’ve built, and what we’re still building, that’s exactly what we are.”

*Not his real name