14.3 million Nigerians between the ages of 15 and 64 used illicit drugs within a one-year period, according to the latest National Drug Use Survey by the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA). The data reveals a sharp rise in substance abuse among youths, with cheap and easily accessible drugs like tramadol, codeine syrup, and cannabis driving the crisis. Director-General of NAFDAC, Prof Christianah Adeyeye, described the situation as a public health and national security threat. NDLEA's Director of Media and Advocacy, Femi Babafemi, called it a national emergency requiring urgent action.
Between January and February 2026, authorities recorded 3,913 arrests, 581 convictions, and seized over 113,000 kilograms of illicit substances. Despite enforcement efforts, drugs continue to flow from legal pharmaceutical channels into informal markets. Tramadol tablets are sold for as little as ₦500, while codeine-laced syrups cost under ₦1,000—prices within reach of students and unemployed youths. These substances are often consumed with energy drinks to heighten their effect.
Use patterns vary by region: Lagos and Port Harcourt report high consumption of tramadol, codeine, and cannabis, including synthetic blends like "Colorado." In Abuja, Rohypnol and diazepam are misused, while rural areas see inhalant abuse involving petrol, glue, and paint thinner. A former addict shared that his descent began with codeine and escalated to local concoctions like "monkey tail," a mix of gin and cannabis. He credited a psychotic episode from cannabis use as his turning point toward sobriety, now sustained for three years.
Prof Christianah Adeyeye's declaration that Nigeria's drug crisis is a national security threat cuts to the core of a failing system—where pharmaceutical regulation, youth policy, and public health have collapsed in tandem. The fact that 14.3 million Nigerians used illicit drugs in one year is not just a statistic; it is evidence of a generation being quietly lost to untreated mental health struggles, economic despair, and regulatory neglect. When a pill costs less than bread and delivers a faster escape than hope, the choice for many young people is no choice at all.
The regional spread of drug use—from synthetic blends in cities to inhalants in rural areas—reveals a crisis that transcends geography and class. The NDLEA's 113,000 kilograms of seizures between January and February 2026 show enforcement is active, yet the supply persists, often leaking from legal pharmaceutical sources. This suggests corruption, weak oversight, or both, are enabling the trade. The normalisation of drug use in universities, nightclubs, and street corners indicates that awareness campaigns alone cannot reverse a culture where getting high is cheaper and more accessible than getting help.
Ordinary Nigerians, especially unemployed youths and students, bear the brunt. Their vulnerability is not just economic but emotional—abuse often starts as self-medication for stress, trauma, or depression with no counselling or support systems in place. Families are left to manage addiction without guidance, as seen in the case of the former addict whose mother died before seeing his recovery. The cost is measured not only in lives derailed but in talent, creativity, and potential buried under years of dependence.
This is not an isolated health issue but part of a broader pattern: the systemic abandonment of Nigeria's youth. For years, education, job creation, and mental health have been underfunded and deprioritised. When institutions fail to provide purpose or opportunity, substances fill the void. The drug crisis is not just about policing supply—it is about confronting why so many young Nigerians are seeking escape in the first place.
