CHAINED TWICE: HOW DRUGS FEED HUMAN TRAFFICKING 

CHAINED TWICE: HOW DRUGS FEED HUMAN TRAFFICKING 

The first time Amaka tasted “freedom,” it was laced with powder.

She was only seventeen, sitting in a dimly lit room in Benin City when an older woman “Aunty B” offered her a drink.

The bitter taste was masked with sweet malt, but within minutes, Amaka’s head felt light.

The worries that had followed her since her mother’s death melted away. The “aunty” smiled knowingly and whispered: “This one will take away your pain. Trust me.”

That was the beginning.

What Amaka didn’t know then was that the substance would not just strip her of her pain; it would strip her of her will, her dreams, and eventually, her freedom.

Drugs had become the invisible chains, preparing her for another prison: human trafficking.

The Silent Recruitment

For many young people like Amaka, poverty, broken homes, or simple youthful curiosity make them vulnerable to the lure of drugs. Traffickers know this well.

They use substances, cheap opioids, codeine syrup, tramadol, and sometimes hard narcotics, not just as an escape route for their victims, but as a leash.

“It is easier to traffic a person who has lost control of themselves,” says Ngozi, a survivor-turned-advocate in Abuja. “When you are high, you can’t resist.

You don’t even realise when you are being moved from one city to another, or from one country to another. Drugs make you compliant.”

For traffickers, drugs serve two cruel purposes: they are both bait and weapon. Young girls and boys are given “free” substances to dull their resistance, then told they owe debts for them.

By the time the addiction sets in, the trafficker becomes the only supplier, the only “rescuer” and the victim, desperate for the next fix, agrees to anything: smuggling, sex work, forced labour.

The Dangerous Web

Amaka’s story echoes thousands across West Africa. In Lagos, she was told she would work as a nanny in Europe.

Instead, she was injected with sedatives before being smuggled across borders.

By the time she woke up, she was in a strange country, her passport seized, her body already marked for exploitation.

“I didn’t care at first,” she recalls in a whisper, tears streaking her face. “The drugs made everything blurry.

Men came and left. I just needed my next dose. I thought if I obeyed, they would give me more.”

This vicious cycle, addiction feeding exploitation, exploitation funding more drugs, is what experts call a “dual slavery.”

The trafficked person is chained not just by their traffickers, but also by the chemical grip of substances.

In Europe and Asia, reports show Nigerian girls trafficked for sex are often forced to use cocaine or meth to keep them awake for long working hours.

Boys trafficked for forced labour in farms or factories are sometimes given drugs to suppress hunger and fatigue.

And when these victims try to escape, withdrawal symptoms pull them back.

The traffickers know: a body craving drugs is easier to control than one craving freedom.

Behind the Glamour

Social media often glamorises drugs as symbols of wealth, rebellion, or “soft life.” But beneath the filters and hashtags is a brutal reality: every pill popped, every line inhaled, could be a tool in the hands of traffickers.

Drugs are not just about “getting high”; they are about getting hooked, hooked enough to become easy prey.

The girl dancing in a nightclub video may not be partying. She may be trapped, her smile forced by substances and threats.

The boy flaunting designer clothes in another clip may not be a hustler. He may be trafficked, numbed by pills that allow him to endure what no human should.

The Ripple Effect

Drug-linked trafficking doesn’t just scar individuals; it weakens communities.

Families lose children to strange lands. Parents live with unanswered questions. And when survivors return, they face stigma, judged not as victims, but as “wayward” youths.

Yet, silence only empowers traffickers.

“This is why we must talk about it,” says Blessing, a counsellor with Balm for the Bruised Foundation. “Parents, teachers, churches, communities, we all must start the conversation.

The traffickers are talking to our children every day, both online and offline. If we keep quiet, they will win.”

The Way Out

Breaking this cycle is possible, but it requires awareness, compassion, and action.

Education: Young people must be taught that every “free” drug has a hidden price. Knowledge is the first shield.

Support for Survivors: Victims of trafficking who return addicted need rehabilitation, not judgement. Healing the body and mind is key to reintegration.

Community Watch: Traffickers thrive in silence. Communities must become alert, reporting suspicious movements and offers of foreign jobs that seem too good to be true.

Conversations at Home, Parents must speak openly about drugs and trafficking, not in fear but in truth. Children need safe spaces to ask questions and share worries.

Amaka’s Voice

Today, Amaka is free. Not fully, because scars never completely vanish, but enough to stand before groups of young people and say:

“Don’t let anyone offer you escape in a bottle or powder. That escape leads to another prison. I thought I was broken, but I learnt that I was just bruised. Bruises heal. You can heal too.”

Her words echo the mission of Balm for the Bruised Foundation: to remind us that no one is too far gone to be restored, and that our collective voice can drown out the lies of traffickers.

Call to Action

The link between drugs and trafficking is not a distant problem. It is here, in our cities, in our schools, in the shadows of our neighbourhoods.

The question is: will we keep scrolling, or will we act?

Join the conversation. Share this story. Support awareness campaigns. Speak to your children today.

Because every life saved is one less chain broken too late.