Online Reporter
Anashe Mpamombe
Correspondent
There is a war raging quietly across Zimbabwe – not marked by gunfire or sirens, but by the silence of broken homes, lifeless eyes and a generation slowly being swallowed by addiction.
It is not on our borders or in our politics. It is in our streets, our schools, our communities and too often, inside our homes.
The recent arrests of individuals smuggling unregistered cough syrups like BronCleer and Astra-Pain are not isolated events. They are just the visible cracks in what is now a widening chasm beneath our feet.
These are not just cough syrups anymore; they are the new face of addiction in Zimbabwe. Known on the streets as “bronco,” these syrups once prescribed for colds and chest infections have become substances of choice for many youths chasing a chemically-induced escape from their reality.
But make no mistake, this is not just a youth problem. This is a national crisis. It is a social emergency that threatens to derail the future of our children, the stability of our communities and the moral fibre of our nation.
At the heart of this crisis is accessibility. Dangerous substances are no longer confined to dark alleyways or shady dealers. They are hidden in school bags, passed hand-to-hand in crowded kombis, or stashed in ordinary homes under the guise of “medicine.”
Some youths don’t even have to seek these substances; they are brought right to them by peers or adults looking to make a quick dollar.
We cannot afford to see this as just an issue of law enforcement. Yes, arrests must be made and those trafficking unregistered and dangerous drugs should face the full wrath of the law.
But if we stop at handcuffs, we will have only scratched the surface. What Zimbabwe faces is not just a drug trade problem, it’s a cultural and emotional wound, festering silently.
Why are so many of our youths turning to substances? The easy answer is peer pressure, but the truth runs deeper. For many, these substances are not a thrill. They are an escape, a sedative for unspoken pain, a rebellion against being unseen, a dangerous answer to loneliness, confusion, trauma or simply the void of meaning.
Some sip, sniff, or inject just to feel something in a world where they feel forgotten. Communities that once raised children together now struggle to hold even a conversation across fences. The intergenerational bonds that once passed down wisdom and discipline are fraying. And in that void, drugs have found a fertile home.
It is also important to confront another uncomfortable truth: we are normalising substance abuse without realising it. When adults openly discuss their reliance on pills for sleep or alcohol for stress, when we laugh at those stumbling in the streets, instead of asking why they are falling; our silence, our indifference, becomes complicity.
And yet, even in this storm, there is hope. There is hope in teachers who go beyond the curriculum to counsel their students. Hope in the parents who fight, tooth and nail, to pull their children back from the edge. Hope in the local leaders and pastors who speak boldly about this crisis in church halls and community gatherings, refusing to be silenced by shame.
But we need more than hope, we need action. First, our response must be grounded in compassion. Addicts are not criminals by default. They are people, our brothers, our daughters, our neighbours trapped in a cycle they cannot escape alone.
We must replace judgment with support, stigma with education, fear with understanding. Second, drug awareness must begin early, far earlier than we think. By the time most children hear about “bronco” in a school seminar, many already know someone using it.
Prevention can no longer be occasional; it must be continuous. Schools must be empowered with the right resources, counsellors and strategies to deal with the emotional and psychological pressures students face.
Third, we need more rehabilitation centres, and not just in urban areas.
Addiction does not respect geography. In rural communities, where help is even scarcer, a person struggling with substance abuse is often left to the mercy of fate or family remedies that cannot address the physiological chains of addiction.
It is also time to rethink how we use our voices as a society. Artists, influencers and media personalities must begin to shape the narrative. For too long, popular culture has glorified substance use through music and online trends. We need voices that speak life, not self-destruction.
The church, too, must take a more active role. Not through condemnation, but through healing, through programmes that offer counselling, reintegration and fellowship. The pulpit must not be silent when the streets are screaming.
Law enforcement also plays a critical role, but the focus must evolve from just intercepting smugglers to understanding networks. Who is importing these substances? Who finances them? Who benefits from keeping the streets flooded with addiction?
These are not just hustlers; they are well-oiled machines that exploit our legal and social loopholes. We must dismantle them.
And as a society, we must reject the narrative that this is “just how things are now.” We cannot afford to be numb to the sight of young men slumped on pavements, or young women with vacant stares and unsteady gaits. These are not “zvema streets.” These are lives, real lives, crumbling in real time.
Community watch groups, neighbourhood committees, school boards, everyone has a role to play. Let us start by asking the hard questions: Is someone in our block using? Is there a suspicious flow of people into a certain house? Are there new substances being whispered about in our schools?
Ignorance can no longer be our excuse. The moment we stop noticing, we start losing. Finally, we must understand that healing is a process, a long, difficult one. There are no overnight fixes. But what we can do today is decide to no longer be passive. We can speak to our children, listen to their silences, rebuild trust, and create spaces where asking for help is not shameful.
Let this be the generation that refused to let drugs define its legacy. Let us be the nation that fought back not with fists, but with love, strategy, unity, and relentless commitment.
The war may be silent now. But the moment we speak, act, and refuse to look away, we begin to turn the tide.
The time to fight is now. Not tomorrow. Not when it is too late.
