News (Media Awareness Project) - Pakistan: Chasing The Heroin Dragon |
Title: | Pakistan: Chasing The Heroin Dragon |
Published On: | 2001-10-13 |
Source: | St. Petersburg Times (FL) |
Fetched On: | 2008-08-31 16:06:53 |
CHASING THE HEROIN DRAGON
PESHAWAR, Pakistan - Twice in the past 18 years, Mir Khawaja has
tried to kick his heroin habit so he can support his wife and four
daughters. But the temptations are too great and the heroin too cheap.
Even after the price doubled in the mid '90s, Khawaja could still get
his daily fix for just 50 rupees, or about 80 cents. That's because
most of Pakistan's heroin comes from a close and steady source --
neighboring Afghanistan, the world's biggest producer of opium
poppies.
Drug smuggling is rampant and "you can't stop it," says Sher Naeem,
who heads a drug treatment center not far from a railroad embankment
where hollowed-eyed addicts congregate.
"Our border is a large border, and people move easily between here and there."
According to the United Nations, Afghanistan accounts for almost 75
percent of the world's illicit opium production. About half of the
Afghan heroin stays home or goes to nearby countries, while most of
the rest is smuggled into Europe and North America.
The Taliban, the conservative Muslim rulers of Afghanistan, have
condemned drug trafficking as a sin against Islam. Last year, the
Taliban supreme leader, Mullah Mohammed Omar, announced a ban on
opium growing, and a few poppy fields were plowed under as the
cameras rolled.
But there is evidence of renewed production by Afghan farmers, who
can make far more money raising poppies than they can cucumbers or
cabbages. And the Taliban is thought to be stock-piling a large
amount of opium, with the intent of releasing it as needed to get
money for weapons and military operations.
"Their highly publicized ban on new poppy production appears in
reality to be a coldly calculated ploy to control the world market
price for their opium and heroin," said U.S. Rep. Mark Souder,
R-Ind., chairman of a House committee on drug policy.
The threat of a new wave of heroin rolling out of Afghanistan has
caused alarm in Western Europe -- especially Britain, which already
has a large addiction problem.
But those in the business of treating Pakistan's addicts are worried,
too, for this impoverished nation has far fewer resources than the
West.
"We're in a hospital with 900 beds and we only have 12 beds for
detoxification," sighs Naeem, whose small center is on the grounds of
a huge but run-down facility built decades ago by the British.
As many as 5-million of Pakistan's 140-million people are hooked on
heroin, one of the world's highest addiction rates. (By comparison,
the United States has twice as many citizens but about 250,000
addicts.)
A disproportionate number of Pakistan's addicts gravitate to
Peshawar, whose proximity to the Afghan border makes heroin
especially cheap and easy to get.
In the early '90s, while a civil war threw Afghanistan into near-
anarchy, an addict could buy a gram of heroin -- considered a day's
supply here -- for just 25 rupees, or 40 cents.
When the Taliban came to power in 1996 and began to limit production,
the supplies dried up somewhat and the price eventually went to about
100 rupees. At the same time, the purity went down.
"The quality is not very good; it's mixed with chemicals and other
substances," says Abida Nazir, a clinical psychologist at the drug
treatment center. "Our patients tell us they don't get as much
pleasure as in the past."
Today, the price in Peshawar remains about 100 rupees while closer to
the border a gram can be had for just 50. That's enough of a savings
that many addicts, even in their wasted states, take a bus into the
semi-autonomous tribal areas where they can buy the stuff cheaper.
So poor are most addicts in Pakistan that they can't even afford
syringes. Instead, they inhale the drug in a method they call
"chasing the dragon."
Addicts take the silver foil from cigarette packages and burn off the
white paper backing. They spread the heroin on top of the foil square
and hold a match underneath, heating the drug until it turns into a
dark goo, which they inhale through a small straw.
Many of the addicts in Peshawar gather day and night near a railroad
overpass painted with a large sign for Coca-Cola and the slogan "Keep
your city clean." Although Pakistan has strong penalties for drug
trafficking, law enforcement pays almost no attention to low-level
dealers and users.
"You see them lying by the roadside," says Naeem, the center's
director. "The police don't do a thing."
Only about 1 percent of Pakistan's addicts are female. The fear of
disgracing the family in this conservative Muslim society is so great
that most women never even try the "soft drugs," marijuana and
hashish, although they too are abundant. Among males, however, heroin
addiction cuts across all strata. Many men from well-off families
begin experimenting in college and get hooked because of the easy
availability. Most of those get treatment in private clinics here and
abroad.
Naeem's government-run center is for addicts who are much poorer but
still receive some support from their families. The center used to
supply meals to patients as they went through the 12-day
detoxification and counseling program, but money for that dried up
six years ago. Now, relatives must agree to furnish a patient's daily
meals before he will be admitted.
Among the dozen current patients is 45-year-old Mir Khawaja, who says
he started smoking heroin 18 years ago when a friend offered what
Khawaja thought was a regular cigarette. He liked the mellow feeling
so much he became addicted.
For two years, Khawaja was able to keep his job as a driver. Then
just as the babies started coming -- four girls, now ages 4 to 15 --
he turned into a hard-core addict.
Twice, he says, he tried to stop and went straight each time for
several months. But on the most recent occasion he got into an
argument with his brother, who was supporting Khawaja's entire
family, and the stress drove him back on heroin.
Like Khawaja, "most addicts have a lack of education and most are
poor," says Nazir, the psychologist who counsels him and others every
day. "When they leave here, they go back to the same environment and
the same stresses and relapse."
Will Khawaja make it this time? Sunken-cheeked and dead-eyed, he
looks none too convincing as he mumbles a familiar Muslim saying.
"Inshallah." God willing.
PESHAWAR, Pakistan - Twice in the past 18 years, Mir Khawaja has
tried to kick his heroin habit so he can support his wife and four
daughters. But the temptations are too great and the heroin too cheap.
Even after the price doubled in the mid '90s, Khawaja could still get
his daily fix for just 50 rupees, or about 80 cents. That's because
most of Pakistan's heroin comes from a close and steady source --
neighboring Afghanistan, the world's biggest producer of opium
poppies.
Drug smuggling is rampant and "you can't stop it," says Sher Naeem,
who heads a drug treatment center not far from a railroad embankment
where hollowed-eyed addicts congregate.
"Our border is a large border, and people move easily between here and there."
According to the United Nations, Afghanistan accounts for almost 75
percent of the world's illicit opium production. About half of the
Afghan heroin stays home or goes to nearby countries, while most of
the rest is smuggled into Europe and North America.
The Taliban, the conservative Muslim rulers of Afghanistan, have
condemned drug trafficking as a sin against Islam. Last year, the
Taliban supreme leader, Mullah Mohammed Omar, announced a ban on
opium growing, and a few poppy fields were plowed under as the
cameras rolled.
But there is evidence of renewed production by Afghan farmers, who
can make far more money raising poppies than they can cucumbers or
cabbages. And the Taliban is thought to be stock-piling a large
amount of opium, with the intent of releasing it as needed to get
money for weapons and military operations.
"Their highly publicized ban on new poppy production appears in
reality to be a coldly calculated ploy to control the world market
price for their opium and heroin," said U.S. Rep. Mark Souder,
R-Ind., chairman of a House committee on drug policy.
The threat of a new wave of heroin rolling out of Afghanistan has
caused alarm in Western Europe -- especially Britain, which already
has a large addiction problem.
But those in the business of treating Pakistan's addicts are worried,
too, for this impoverished nation has far fewer resources than the
West.
"We're in a hospital with 900 beds and we only have 12 beds for
detoxification," sighs Naeem, whose small center is on the grounds of
a huge but run-down facility built decades ago by the British.
As many as 5-million of Pakistan's 140-million people are hooked on
heroin, one of the world's highest addiction rates. (By comparison,
the United States has twice as many citizens but about 250,000
addicts.)
A disproportionate number of Pakistan's addicts gravitate to
Peshawar, whose proximity to the Afghan border makes heroin
especially cheap and easy to get.
In the early '90s, while a civil war threw Afghanistan into near-
anarchy, an addict could buy a gram of heroin -- considered a day's
supply here -- for just 25 rupees, or 40 cents.
When the Taliban came to power in 1996 and began to limit production,
the supplies dried up somewhat and the price eventually went to about
100 rupees. At the same time, the purity went down.
"The quality is not very good; it's mixed with chemicals and other
substances," says Abida Nazir, a clinical psychologist at the drug
treatment center. "Our patients tell us they don't get as much
pleasure as in the past."
Today, the price in Peshawar remains about 100 rupees while closer to
the border a gram can be had for just 50. That's enough of a savings
that many addicts, even in their wasted states, take a bus into the
semi-autonomous tribal areas where they can buy the stuff cheaper.
So poor are most addicts in Pakistan that they can't even afford
syringes. Instead, they inhale the drug in a method they call
"chasing the dragon."
Addicts take the silver foil from cigarette packages and burn off the
white paper backing. They spread the heroin on top of the foil square
and hold a match underneath, heating the drug until it turns into a
dark goo, which they inhale through a small straw.
Many of the addicts in Peshawar gather day and night near a railroad
overpass painted with a large sign for Coca-Cola and the slogan "Keep
your city clean." Although Pakistan has strong penalties for drug
trafficking, law enforcement pays almost no attention to low-level
dealers and users.
"You see them lying by the roadside," says Naeem, the center's
director. "The police don't do a thing."
Only about 1 percent of Pakistan's addicts are female. The fear of
disgracing the family in this conservative Muslim society is so great
that most women never even try the "soft drugs," marijuana and
hashish, although they too are abundant. Among males, however, heroin
addiction cuts across all strata. Many men from well-off families
begin experimenting in college and get hooked because of the easy
availability. Most of those get treatment in private clinics here and
abroad.
Naeem's government-run center is for addicts who are much poorer but
still receive some support from their families. The center used to
supply meals to patients as they went through the 12-day
detoxification and counseling program, but money for that dried up
six years ago. Now, relatives must agree to furnish a patient's daily
meals before he will be admitted.
Among the dozen current patients is 45-year-old Mir Khawaja, who says
he started smoking heroin 18 years ago when a friend offered what
Khawaja thought was a regular cigarette. He liked the mellow feeling
so much he became addicted.
For two years, Khawaja was able to keep his job as a driver. Then
just as the babies started coming -- four girls, now ages 4 to 15 --
he turned into a hard-core addict.
Twice, he says, he tried to stop and went straight each time for
several months. But on the most recent occasion he got into an
argument with his brother, who was supporting Khawaja's entire
family, and the stress drove him back on heroin.
Like Khawaja, "most addicts have a lack of education and most are
poor," says Nazir, the psychologist who counsels him and others every
day. "When they leave here, they go back to the same environment and
the same stresses and relapse."
Will Khawaja make it this time? Sunken-cheeked and dead-eyed, he
looks none too convincing as he mumbles a familiar Muslim saying.
"Inshallah." God willing.
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