By Ebube Bruno
CALABAR (CONVERSEER) – In Calabar, like in many Nigerian cities, dreams often start from the classrooms of our secondary schools. That was the case for Daniel, a promising SS2 science student at a government school in the city. He had ambitions of becoming a software engineer, inspired by his late father, who had worked with the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA). His brilliance in coding competitions had made his teachers and peers believe he was destined for
greatness.
But Daniel’s story took a dark turn. Introduced by friends to “white dust” and cough syrup mixtures at a neighbourhood hangout in Atimbo, he thought, “one try won’t hurt.” What began as an experiment to “feel alive” slowly consumed him. Skipping classes, failing tests, and retreating from his family, Daniel’s life spiralled until tragedy struck — his closest friend overdosed at a so-called “base” in Bayside.
This may read like fiction, but it is the lived reality of many Nigerian youths today. The National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) reports that over 14 million Nigerians between 15 and 64 years abuse drugs, with the highest prevalence among secondary and tertiary students. In Cross River, local anti-narcotics officers frequently bust neighbourhood drug dens where cannabis, tramadol, and methamphetamine (known as “Mkpuru Mmiri”) flow cheaply into young hands.
Daniel’s downfall mirrors the frightening statistics: a generation at risk, not just of addiction, but of losing their future. Drug abuse has become the silent pandemic — eroding our classrooms, homes, and even our sports fields. The World Health Organisation (WHO) has linked adolescent drug use to poor academic performance, mental health decline, and violent behaviour. Explaining why young people must avoid early exposure to substance use, Pharmacist Greatman Owoh, who is the Cross River State President of the Young Pharmacists Group, warns that it could damage the formation of their frontal cortex and impede their full mental development. He says it can lead to psychosis, depression and mental illness.
But Daniel’s story also carries a glimmer of hope. After witnessing his friend’s overdose, he sought help through rehab and support from his sister. Slowly, he rebuilt his life, and today, he tells his story to younger students in schools across Nigeria.
The lesson is clear: our fight against drug abuse must go beyond arrests and raids. Parents, teachers, faith leaders, and the government must confront the social drivers — peer pressure, unemployment, poor guidance, and community neglect. Rehabilitation centres must be properly funded. Schools should integrate real drug education into their curriculum, not just a one-off lecture. This is why I must comment on the efforts of Holistique Public Health NGO and the Nigerian Anglican War Against Drug Abuse and Addictions (NAWADA) of the Anglican Compassion and Development Initiative (ACADI) in their Drug Free Club campaign in secondary schools.
The Students for Sensible Drug Policy (SSPD) has also made remarkable progress in its intervention in substance use and harm reduction, especially in tertiary institutions. Other organisations like the Neighbourhood-Carewell Foundation and the National Drugs Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) are also at the forefront. But as the Cross River State commander of the NDLEA, Mrs Rachel Umebuali once noted in a recent radio interview, the agency is in need of rehabilitation centres. Nigeria’s fight must shift from only chasing dealers to building prevention and rehabilitation systems that truly save lives. We must emphasise prevention and rehabilitation.
Daniel’s story is a reminder that the cost of a “high” is always higher than it seems. For many Nigerian youths, it is the difference between a bright future and a wasted one.
