A cheap synthetic drug known as kush is ravaging West Africa and its epicentre is Sierra Leone. The government has declared kush a public health emergency, but poverty and trauma are slowing efforts by communities to help unhook young people from its sometimes deadly hold.
At 20, Ousmane’s future should be unfolding. Instead, he spends his days at a drug point in Grey Bush – a ghetto in the capital Freetown – hunting for money for his next dose of kush.
“This drug, honestly, it makes me angry at my country,” he tells RFI. “Look at how it destroys young people like us. It makes us eat rotten food. A young person like me, in another country, I’d already have a car and a roof. But here, I’m just running around, looking for money to smoke.”
Young people, looking dazed, gather at these so-called “cartels”, exchanging crumpled notes. They smoke, then collapse.
“I lost my whole family since I started smoking in 2018,” said 23-year-old Ramadam. “Back then we bought two doses for 5,000 leones [€0.19]. Now it’s 20,000 for one. Jagaban is the strongest kind, it knocks you out. Even I can’t stay on my feet.”
'Now we're trapped'
A synthetic cocktail, kush is usually made from marshmallow leaves soaked in industrial chemicals. It is increasingly mixed with nitazenes – opioids up to 25 times stronger than fentanyl, according to a recent report by the Global Initiative Against Transnational Organised Crime.
Kush first appeared in Sierra Leone in the early 2020s and quickly spread across Liberia, Guinea, the Gambia, Guinea-Bissau and Senegal. The report said kush is likely behind thousands of deaths in West Africa.
Cheap to produce and highly addictive, the Sierra Leonean government declared kush a public health emergency in April 2024, but the drug keeps spreading – overwhelming families, police and the fragile healthcare system.
Its hold goes beyond physical craving. “If I don’t smoke for two or three hours,” Ousmane said, “my bones hurt, I can’t sit, I can’t stand. But if I smoke, I get energy to hustle and then all I want is another dose.”
The young men describe a cycle of hunger, addiction and poverty. “We didn’t ask for this drug,” Ousmane adds. “We were just smoking marijuana. Then they came into the ghetto and said: ‘Try this, it’s better.’ So we tried it just once, and now we’re trapped.”
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Detox treatment
Calling the crisis a national emergency in April 2024, President Julius Maada Bio promised centres in every district with trained professionals to offer “care and support to people with drug addiction”.
The government recently opened its second official detox centre on a military base in the southern city of Bo, where 50 young men, most under 25, are undergoing four weeks of treatment.
Before entering the centre, residents say goodbye to their families. “I want him to change, to have a goal,” said one mother. “Please, let him become a new man.”
Kneeling down, her son said: “I want to reassure her that after this cure, I’ll be the man she expected me to be.”
Kush addiction is tearing families apart.
“I’m exhausted. I’ve suffered so much. And he’s suffering too,” said Sidora, a single mother and police officer, as she dropped off her 20-year-old son.
She described how he has lived on the streets, disappeared for days and stolen from her to feed his addiction.
As a family support officer with the Sierra Leonean police, she sees similar stories every day. “We get parents who come to report their kids. They’re being robbed by their own children for drug money. We investigate and we take them to court.”
Despite the pain, she refuses to give up on her son. “I know I’m not the only one. This is a national problem,” she said.
Synthetic drug 'kush' ravages Sierra Leone's young
Community support
“Over the last four years, I’ve seen a drastic rise [in kush use]; it’s often due to stress, depression, no jobs,” said Joseph Santigie Bangoura, director of the Social Linkages for Youth Development and Child Link (SLYDCL) and a former kush user.
He puts the number of young kush addicts at between 6,000 and 7,000, meaning there are “far too few detox centres”.
Faced with the inadequate care, communities are filling the gaps. In Grey Bush, locals have built an informal detox shelter next to a known kush spot.
“See that sign? ‘No smoking’ – that’s our number one rule. No fighting either,” said Nabiu Musa Samuel, who runs the shelter’s community kitchen.
“We talk to them, give them encouragement, share what food we can. This community used to have bright students, now our youth is washing away. Businesses are closing. We’d like to do more, but it’s all we can do.”
Nearby, Souleymane cares for a man with kush-induced lesions. He shows a photo of an open wound exposing the young man’s bones. “That’s from jagaban – the stronger kind of kush. They can’t even walk,” the careworker says.
“Some people say we’re crazy for helping, that we must be users too,” said Ali, another volunteer. “But these are our brothers. We can’t pretend they don’t exist.”
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'Drug is everywhere'
The Global Initiative report said kush is part of a well-organised supply chain. Chemicals, often ordered from China or Europe on sites like Alibaba, are smuggled into Sierra Leone hidden in food containers or sent by courier.
Local “cooks” prepare the drug, which is sold at hundreds of “cartels”.
“We make kush from marshmallow leaves, add products that come through the port. Some make it milder, some stronger,” said Michael, who runs a kush point near an abandoned construction site at Funti fishing port.
“We have problems with police, sometimes we pay them off, sometimes we run, sometimes they take our drugs.”
Despite police raids, the trade not only survives but spreads.
“The drug is everywhere, even in the police and army… soldiers, students, teachers, they’re all using it,” said Isata Bridget Kallon, one of Sierra Leone’s few social workers focusing on addiction.
“Kush is destroying everything we rebuilt after the war.”
The country still bears the scars of its 10-year civil war. Average annual income was just €423 in 2022, said the World Bank, and its 8.4 million population faces high prices and mass unemployment.
Unless young people find better opportunities the fight against kush will be lost, Bangoura warns.
“After rehab, their bodies are clean. But then what? Many have no home so they go back on the streets. And they relapse. That’s the problem.”
This article was based on an audio report in French by Liza Fabbian, adapted by Alison Hird.
