DRUG ABUSE AND HOMELESSNESS: A DANGEROUS CYCLE 

DRUG ABUSE AND HOMELESSNESS: A DANGEROUS CYCLE 

DRUG ABUSE AND HOMELESSNESS: A DANGEROUS CYCLE 

On a rainy evening in the heart of Abuja, traffic roared along the expressway while commuters hurried home, shielding themselves from the downpour.

Beneath the bridge at Area One, a young man named Chike sat curled up against the cold concrete wall, a tattered nylon bag his only possession. In his hand was a small bottle of codeine syrup, half-empty.

To passers-by, he was just another “area boy”, one of those faceless figures who had made the streets their home.

But Chike’s story was not born of choice. It was a slow descent, an entanglement of drug abuse and homelessness that spiralled into a dangerous cycle, one many others in Africa are trapped in today.

A Promise That Broke Too Soon

Chike grew up in a middle-class home in Enugu.

His parents worked hard; his father was a civil servant, his mother a trader, dreaming that their first son would one day become a doctor.
In secondary school,

Chike was intelligent and loved football. Teachers often told him he had “a bright future”.

But things began to change when his father lost his job during a round of government retrenchments.

The family’s finances crumbled, and with the tension at home came constant quarrels.

Chike sought refuge in a group of boys who introduced him to cannabis, calling it “the herb that calms the storm.” What began as a puff after school soon became a daily ritual.

By the time he gained admission into university, he had experimented with tramadol, codeine, and crystal meth or mkpuru mmiri.

The substances gave him confidence, made him feel like his problems were far away. Yet, they were only burying him deeper into an addiction he did not understand.

From University Hostel to the Streets

In his second year, Chike’s grades dropped drastically.

His mother, already struggling to feed the family, could no longer keep up with his school fees. He deferred his studies but did not return home ashamed of his failure and angry at life.

“I told myself I would hustle in Lagos, make money, and return to school,” he recalled. But hustling quickly turned into survival.

He took shelter in abandoned buildings, then under bridges.

With homelessness came despair, and with despair came more drugs. Substances offered him warmth against the night’s cold and numbness against hunger.

But they also tightened their grip, every bottle of syrup, every pill, every sniff of powder pushing him further away from redemption.

The Dangerous Cycle

Drug abuse and homelessness often feed each other like fire and petrol.

For Chike, being homeless exposed him to constant drug use, and constant drug use made it nearly impossible to find stability or reintegrate into society.

Drugs became his currency: He sold scraps and begged at traffic lights, not for food, but for the next fix.

Friends became enablers: Other street boys shared substances, urging him on. Together, they formed a “family”, yet none strong enough to lift the other out.

Health became a gamble: Chike developed chest infections, untreated wounds, and hallucinations. Hospitals demanded money he did not have.

He would sometimes get picked up during police raids, only to be released back onto the streets, where the cycle continued.

The Silent Epidemic

Chike’s story is not unique. Across Africa, the twin crises of drug abuse and homelessness are swelling quietly. Nigeria, with its growing population, is at the centre of this storm.

According to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC), Nigeria has one of the highest rates of drug use in the world, with millions dependent on substances ranging from cannabis to opioids.

Homelessness, too, is on the rise, driven by poverty, unemployment, displacement, and family breakdowns.

When combined, these two issues create a dangerous trap: homelessness increases vulnerability to drug use, while drug use deepens the risk of homelessness.

This cycle robs young people of their futures and burdens families, communities, and the nation at large.

When Hope Flickers

One evening, a volunteer group doing street outreach spotted Chike under the bridge. They offered him food, clean clothes, and listened to his story without judgment.

For the first time in years, someone called him by his name instead of “area boy.”

Chike broke down in tears. “I want to stop, but I don’t know how,” he confessed.

That night marked the beginning of a slow journey towards rehabilitation.

With counselling, detox support, and vocational training, he began to rediscover a sense of purpose. It was not easy, relapses came, and shame followed but he was no longer alone.

Breaking the Cycle

The dangerous cycle of drug abuse and homelessness can be broken, but it requires collective effort:

Community Awareness: Families, schools, and communities must speak openly about drug abuse and its consequences without stigma.

Early Intervention: Identifying signs of substance use among young people early can prevent escalation.

Rehabilitation, Not Rejection: Homeless addicts need safe shelters, rehabilitation centres, and opportunities for reintegration, not punishment or neglect.

Partnerships for Change: Government, NGOs, religious bodies, and individuals must collaborate to create sustainable solutions.

A Final Reflection

As Chike slowly rebuilds his life, he remains a living reminder of how easily dreams can be derailed, and how quickly one can slip from comfort into the streets.

His story echoes the silent cries of many others hidden beneath bridges, at bus stops, and in abandoned buildings.

Drug abuse and homelessness are not just personal failures they are societal wounds. And until we begin to see the faces behind the statistics, the cycle will continue to destroy lives.

At Balm for the Bruised Foundation, we believe no one is too broken to be mended, no one too lost to be found.

Chike’s journey is proof that with compassion, support, and collective will, even the most dangerous cycles can be broken.

If you see a Chike on your street today, remember: a listening ear may be the first step in saving a life.

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