Unemployment, discrimination, and the collapse of the education system have consumed the future of many young people since the Taliban turnover. To escape their grim reality, some have turned to a synthetic drug known as “Tablet K,” which look similar to other drugs, but are so powerful that consuming just one can produce irreversible and damaging effects on the brain.
Tablet K pills contain methamphetamine, which can be mixed with heroin or painkillers such as tramadol, according to an analysis of 500 types of confiscated tablets reported by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC). The use of Tablet K has increased recently due to the Taliban ban on opium cultivation, which has caused the prices of opium and heroin to rise. In contrast, the price of Tablet K in Afghanistan has plummeted due to an increase in production in illegal workshops and the lack of effective regulation of the country’s pharmaceutical market. In 2008, similar synthetic pills sold for as much as US$20 to $50 each, while now each Tablet K pill can be found for $2 to $3.
Zan Times interviewed young people across the country to discover the impact that widespread use of Tablet K is having on the population of Afghanistan, including how they came to use the pills and how addiction has affected their lives.
One Tablet K addict is Ahmad. He used to warn his friends against the dangers of smoking, now, he takes the synthetic drug to escape the reality of his life. “This is the only way to cope with life in Afghanistan. If this is life, forgetting it is no sin,” he tells Zan Times.
He started by taking one tablet at a time, but now consumes two packs of 14 tablets for a total of 28 pills a day, though he says that even that amount isn’t enough: “At first, one capsule would make me high. Now, even two packs don’t make me feel anything. Whatever money I get from home, the first thing I think of is buying these pills.”
“For a few moments I am happy, and I forget all my sorrows. I become very kind and sociable and feel powerful,” Ahmad explains, though he knows it’s a false and temporary feeling of well-being. “If I don’t use it, I start grinding my teeth uncontrollably. My bones ache, I experience hallucinations, and suffer from severe insomnia. I withdraw from people and dislike everyone.”
Decades of war and poverty have left many Afghans suffering from trauma and severe psychological distress. Recently, the World Health Organization warned that mental health services remain dangerously limited. The international organization estimates there are 320 hospital beds for psychiatric patients across all of Afghanistan, and these hospitals face a severe shortage of trained specialists. It’s so hard and expensive to access such specialized treatments that people are self-medicating with the drugs they can afford and find. For many, that pill is Tablet K, even if they know the risks involved in taking it.
A doctor specializing in addiction treatment explains the symptoms – both social and physical – of Tablet K addiction: “Over time, not only is their social standing damaged, but their health is put at risk. Their kidneys fail, their bodies become dehydrated, their blood pressure and heart rate go up. Sometimes, it even leads to death.”
At a press conference last spring, Mufti Abdul Matin Qane, spokesperson for the Taliban’s Ministry of Interior, said that 377 drug production factories had been discovered and destroyed. However, the reality on the streets tells a different story as it’s easy to find dealers selling Tablet K tablets as well as other illicit drugs.
“Although the Taliban appear to oppose the use of these substances, they still reach people through the black market,” one seller tells Zan Times. “When the Taliban detain people on charges of distributing or using drugs, they release them in exchange for money.”
Another drug dealer in central Afghanistan has around 600 regular customers. The 27-year-old university student even delivers the drugs to select buyers. His operation is a family business. His older brother, a professional drug trafficker, procures Tablet K from Kandahar province or even Pakistan and sends them to him via smugglers.
This student sells each Tablet K pill for 200 afghani, well above its wholesale price of 50 to 150 afghani. Supply, demand, and location can affect the street price as other dealers who talked to Zan Times say that they can sell Tablet K for up to 1,200 afghani. A larger version of the tablet (around the size of a five cent coin), which has a stronger effect on users, can fetch as much as 2,000 or even 3,000 afghani.
The business can be dangerous. In 2023, the university drug dealer was arrested while holding a half kilo of hashish and several Tablet Ks. He’d been singled out following a report by his university administrator. Luckily, a contact in the Ministry of Defence was able to secure his release in less than 24 hours. Now, everyone knows he is selling drugs, but no one can do anything about it.
The growing illegal production of drugs such as Tablet K drugs has become major challenges for Afghanistan’s health system as more and more become addicted. “Currently, the market for these drugs is very hot among women, unemployed men, and teenagers,” explains one seller, who has worked in a pharmacy for eight years. “Many people start with low doses, like 50 or 75 milligrams, and gradually move up to higher doses, like 300 milligrams.”
Fatih, a 23-year-old, had just graduated from high school when the former government fell in 2021. Though he wanted to continue his academic studies, he wasn’t able to take the university entrance exam. Unemployed, with a mind filled with troubling thoughts, he turned to drugs to ease his suffering. At first, I bought them from pharmacies,” he says to Zan Times. “Now I buy from street vendors. They don’t have the same effect as before. I know this isn’t the right path, but I have no other choice.”
Fatih is one of so many young people who turned to addiction not for pleasure, but to escape the harsh realities of their lives. Now, many hope for a chance to break free from their addictions, including Farzana, who hopes to become clean one day so she can once more be a mother to her children.
Names have been changed to protect the identity of the interviewees and writer. Atia FarAzar is the pseudonym of a Zan Times journalist.
