For 22-year-old Kwame Kwadwo, growing up in Accra, Ghana, the hope for a bright future faded not long after graduating from high school. His dream of becoming an immigration officer slowly slipped away as job opportunities dwindled.
Orphaned at a young age and under immense pressure to support his siblings, he soon began to spiral. With limited access to higher education and scarce job prospects, he turned to codeine-laced syrup and marijuana – substances that offered him temporary relief from the hopelessness that unemployment and social neglect brought.
Kwadwo’s story is tragically common across West Africa, where youth like him are increasingly falling into drug use, not out of rebellion but as a desperate coping mechanism. Behind the surge in addiction lie structural issues: youth unemployment, lack of access to mental health care, fractured social systems and urban disconnection.
The ENACT programme at the Institute for Security Studies estimates a 150 per cent increase in drug users in sub-Saharan Africa by 2050. West Africa, home to nearly six million drug users today, is expected to see that number more than double, creating a heavy burden on healthcare systems and national stability.
In Nigeria, the numbers are particularly stark. A United Nations report reveals that 14.4 per cent of Nigerians aged 15 to 64 abuse drugs – nearly three times the global average. Even more troubling is the revelation that one in five users suffers from disorders requiring urgent medical intervention.
At the 2024 International Day Against Drug Abuse in Abuja, UNODC deputy country representative, Danilo Campisi sounded the alarm. “We are just six years away from 2030 and the projections are staggering. Prevention has never been more critical,” he said.
In Sierra Leone, the crisis is being shaped by a new synthetic killer – kush. Made from marshmallow leaves and industrial chemicals, kush has spread through communities like wildfire. In the Grey Bush ghetto of Freetown, 20-year-old Yusuf Ousmane roams the streets searching for his next fix.
“This drug makes me angry at my country. It destroys people like us. I should have a roof, a future, but instead, I’m just running around trying to smoke,” he said.
Kush has been declared a public health emergency, linked to countless deaths and a rising tide of social decay. Detox centres are overwhelmed. Families are collapsing under the emotional toll. Makeshift shelters now double as triage for addicted youth.
In Nigeria, a study at a Borstal facility in north-central Nigeria revealed that 82.5 per cent of incarcerated boys suffered psychiatric disorders, including addiction, anxiety and psychosis.
Prof. Olurotimi Coker of LASUTH said the mental health burden among boys remains overlooked. “We raise boys to suppress emotions. They don’t speak out. But suicide is now one of the leading causes of death among youth aged 15 to 29,” he said.
Girls are not exempt. In many conflict-affected areas like northern Nigeria and Liberia, NGOs report rising substance use among girls exposed to trauma, sexual exploitation, or survival sex. Stigma keeps many silent. There is a growing consensus on the need for gender-specific interventions.
Faith-based organisations are filling some of the void. In Makeni, Sierra Leone, a Pentecostal church runs counselling and detox sessions. In northern Nigeria, imams and traditional leaders are raising awareness and referring youth to support centres. Experts say formalising these grassroots efforts is key to scaling up impact.
Abba Abdulkarim, now 45, knows the battle firsthand. Once a gifted student, he had his future derailed in SS2 when casual cigarette use escalated to addiction: marijuana, alcohol, codeine, heroin, cocaine.
“Addiction doesn’t ask if you’re smart. It sneaks in when you’re alone and vulnerable. No one was checking on me, and help was too far away,” he recalled.
He cycled through short-term rehab centres for over three decades. Relief was temporary. It wasn’t until he joined the MART rehabilitation programme that he found lasting help, thanks to holistic care, therapy, reintegration and family involvement.
Today, he’s a recovery coach, a husband and a father to a three-year-old. He’s back in school studying Economics and spends his time helping others recover.
“Before MART, I didn’t realise that one month of detox wasn’t enough. Addiction needs a complete system to address it,” he said.
But Abdulkarim is the exception. Most don’t get help.
“Families don’t know what to do. There’s no funding. There’s no access. We need more places like MART and less judgment,” he said.
The implications go far beyond individual lives. A 2025 study linked drug trafficking to extremist financing in Nigeria. Proceeds from tramadol, heroin and cannabis are reportedly used to buy arms and sedate young recruits.
Nextier Group found that this convergence of addiction, poverty and violent extremism is accelerating radicalisation in the Lake Chad Basin.
In response, ECOWAS launched a digital data platform for its West African Epidemiology Network on Drug Use (WENDU) to improve real-time monitoring. At a workshop in Abuja, ECOWAS drug prevention head, Dr. Daniel Amankwaah stressed the platform’s importance for coordinated response.
“This platform is our regional shield. It will help us understand patterns and deploy the right interventions,” Amankwaah said.
At a campaign in Freetown, ECOWAS Parliament declared a “war on kush,” urging a unified sub-regional approach. Speaker Segepoh Thomas said: “If we continue like this, we risk losing a generation.”
Liberia’s youth-led group Youth for Clean Horizons is already responding. They run peer support circles. Prince Kamara, a volunteer and former addict, said: “We were written off. Now, we’re the ones lifting others.”
Despite increasing attention, funding for prevention remains low. Mental health services are severely underdeveloped. Nigeria has fewer than 500 psychiatrists for a population of over 200 million.
ECOWAS has urged Member States to prioritise youth employment and rehab infrastructure in national budgets.
Prof. Ibrahim Wakawa, a psychiatrist and medical director in Maiduguri, called for a legal framework for a public health-based response. “We need laws that protect and support recovery, not punish,” he said.
He emphasised collaboration among lawmakers, enforcement agencies, and healthcare providers.
This is no longer just a youth problem. It’s a societal crisis. West Africa’s young people need jobs, purpose, belonging, and help. There’s still time to intervene.
As Kwame Kwadwo said, “I didn’t need a fix. I needed a future. I needed someone to believe in me.”
The region still has time to rewrite the ending. But the clock is ticking.
