dyton mupawaenda
Remember Deketeke-Herald Correspondent
FOR 32-year-old Kudzi from Mbare, something as simple as ice cream is now a distant memory, a reminder of a painful chapter in his life once shaped by years of drug use.
Speaking candidly at a media training workshop in Kadoma hosted by the Zimbabwe Gender Commission in partnership with Population Solutions for Health (PSH), he described how it all began and how, ultimately, he started the long journey to recovery.
“I can now no longer eat ice cream because of ngoma (a cough syrup) which has affected my teeth,” he said quietly, his eyes lowered.
The training, focused on Gender-Based Violence (GBV), child marriage, and drug and substance use, offered a space for individuals like Kudzi to share personal accounts that reflect a broader crisis quietly unfolding in many communities.
Kudzi’s story, like that of many young men in high-density suburbs, began with peer influence.
“It all started as peer pressure. I was introduced to mbanje (weed), and when it no longer gave the same high, I moved on to stronger substances first cough syrup, then crystal meth,” he said.
One of the darkest moments came when he tried, unsuccessfully, to stop on his own.
“I still remember spending three days locking myself in my room, hoping I could quit, but the urge was too much,” he added.
“Sometimes I listen to old audio recordings of myself shouting at my own mother and I can’t help but cry. That’s when regret really hits me.”
While Kudzi’s experience speaks to the pressures faced by many young men, Tinotenda, now 25, tells a different, but equally compelling story.
“My parents died when I was young. I went to live with relatives, but it was abuse after abuse,” she said.
The neglect she suffered became the emotional fuel that led her to substances.
“When I started playing football for bigger clubs, I began to feel accepted and loved. But that was also when I was introduced to drug use. At first it helped me cope, but it eventually pulled me deeper into pain.”
Like many, her journey escalated during her university years.
“I started small, with weed, but later turned to crystal meth. Eventually, I dropped out and chose not to return home. I stayed with other football players, trying to run away from the past.”
Her turning point came not in a rehabilitation facility, but through something far more personal: family.
“My brother looked for me and took me in. At first, I stole from them to support my habits. But with time, the love and care I received made me see how badly I had changed. I started changing because of that love.”
Despite never attending formal rehabilitation, Tinotenda says her recovery has been rooted in self-determination.
“I went through withdrawal on my own. It was difficult, but I had never experienced love like the one I received from my brothers. That made all the difference.”
Another story shared at the workshop was that of Mr. Tawanda Moyo (not his real name), a former user who admits his actions nearly destroyed his family.
“I became physically abusive to my wife and children,” he said.
“I was angry all the time, paranoid, and emotionally unavailable. Things kept getting worse. I was a danger to my family.”
The path to healing was neither easy nor linear.
Moyo says it took a series of painful realisations, supported by counselling from local faith leaders and health workers, for him to see the damage he had caused.
“Now, my children adore me,” he said.
“My wife’s family who once refused to even speak to me have welcomed me back. I’ve started rebuilding, brick by brick.”
Programmes like the one led by Population Solutions for Health are increasingly focusing on building systems of care that go beyond medical treatment.
According to Mr Nigel Kunaka, marketing manager for PSH, addressing drug use must also address the human connections and traumas that often underlie it.
“The approach must be holistic,” he said.
“We are seeing that young people are not only dealing with substance dependency, but with layered issues such as trauma, broken family structures, neglect, and a lack of economic opportunities,” he said.
“Community-based interventions, such as this workshop, are about restoring dignity, building resilience and offering psychosocial support.”
As Zimbabwe grapples with rising cases of drug use, particularly among young people, stories like those of Kudzi and Tinotenda offer both caution and hope.
They show that while the descent can be swift and painful, recovery though complex is possible through love, support and community effort.
It is through initiatives like the Zimbabwe Gender Commission and PSH’s workshops that these voices are being heard, helping shape a response that is rooted not in judgement, but in understanding and inclusion.
Online Reporter