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By Cynthia Nabiswa
Kenya is growing rapidly. Yet beneath the rising population figures lies a crisis we have chosen not to confront.
According to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics, the mid-2024 population stands at 52.4 million. Global estimates suggest we may have already surpassed 56 million. But this growth means little if the nation is quietly losing its young people to drugs and substance abuse.
The National Authority for the Campaign Against Alcohol and Drug Abuse (NACADA) reports that one in every six Kenyans between the ages of 15 and 65—about 4.7 million people—is currently using drugs or harmful substances. Even more troubling, nearly half of these users are adolescents aged 10 to 19.
Let’s be clear about what this means: our children are being lost.
This is not a marginal issue. It is not a “youth problem.”
It is a national emergency.
Yet Kenya continues to respond with silence, stigma, and punishment. Current laws, including the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances (Control) Act, prioritise criminalisation over care. Offences such as possession, trafficking, cultivation, or manufacturing of illegal substances carry penalties that range from misdemeanours to life imprisonment. For instance, possession of a small quantity of marijuana can lead to arrest, while trafficking larger quantities of drugs like cocaine could result in a lifetime behind bars.
The National Policy for the Prevention, Management, and Control of Alcohol, Drugs and Substance Abuse 2025 seeks to address these concerns. It introduces stricter regulations on alcohol sales and marketing, raising the legal age for handling, purchasing, consuming, and selling alcohol to 21. It also bans sales in petrol stations, parks, supermarkets, restaurants, beaches, and areas within 300 metres of schools, places of worship, and residential zones. Online sales and home deliveries are also prohibited.
While these measures reflect good intentions, they miss the bigger picture. Kenya’s response to addiction remains rooted in control and punishment rather than compassion and treatment.
Addiction continues to be framed as a moral failure or a result of poor upbringing. Young people battling substance dependency are branded as irresponsible or criminal, and their families are left to shoulder blame. This is not only outdated—it is dangerous.
Addiction is not a choice.
No child dreams of becoming dependent on substances. Addiction thrives in unaddressed trauma, untreated mental illness, joblessness, poverty, and hopelessness—conditions that persist when society chooses judgment over care.
Our young people are not delinquents; they are casualties of systemic failure. Many turn to drugs to escape neglect, violence, and despair. Tragically, the law often catches up with them not as victims needing help, but as offenders to be punished. Once incarcerated, they suffer further trauma and exploitation—emerging more broken than before.

Meanwhile, access to care remains grossly inadequate. Mental health and substance-use treatment are often excluded from insurance coverage. Rehabilitation centres are scarce, expensive, and mostly urban-based—far beyond the reach of families in rural or low-income areas. Parents in informal settlements watch helplessly as their children slip through the cracks.
This is not a family failure.
This is not a cultural failure.
This is a policy failure.
Kenya must urgently rethink its approach. Addiction should be treated as a public health crisis, not a criminal justice issue. Mental health services must be scaled up and fully integrated into Universal Health Coverage—not as an afterthought, but as a priority.
Rehabilitation and counselling should be affordable, accessible, and community-based. Schools need to be equipped to detect early warning signs and connect affected learners to care. Religious and community leaders must shift from condemnation to compassion, becoming first responders in support and rehabilitation.
Most importantly, we must move from criminalisation to recovery.
A nation’s strength is not measured by how harshly it punishes the vulnerable, but by how deeply it invests in healing and dignity.
Addiction does not discriminate. It cuts across class, gender, religion, and geography. Left unaddressed, it will continue to weaken families, fuel insecurity, and rob Kenya of its greatest asset—its youth.
The numbers are no longer just statistics; they are a warning.
With 4.7 million Kenyans affected—nearly half of them children—this is no longer about whether we have a drug crisis. The real question is whether we have the political will, moral courage, and collective urgency to confront it.
Kenya cannot arrest its way out of addiction. It must heal its way forward.
History will not judge us by how loudly we condemned drug users, but by how boldly we chose compassion, reform, and action—for the sake of our children and the future of this country.
Cynthia Nabiswa is a nurse, counsellor, and mental health advocate.













