Losing Him to Kush — A Pain I’ll Never Forget

Trigger Warning: This blog contains discussion of drug addiction, illness, and death. It also includes images of a young person affected by substance misuse, which some readers may find distressing.

Sixteen years old. That is how old my cousin was when Kush took his life.

Even now, writing that sentence feels unreal.

I lost more than a cousin. I lost a brother, a friend, and a boy who had so much promi

se. His name was Mustapha Apie, and his story still lives with me every single day.

Who Mustapha Was Before Kush?

Before kush entered his life, Mustapha was everything you would hope a young person could be.

• Calm, respectful, and gentle

• Intelligent and hardworking, always doing well in school

• Quiet but confident, with a natural sense of discipline

• Full of dreams about a better future

When he came to stay with us during the holidays, my siblings and I begged our father to let him remain. We enrolled him in the same school as my younger brother, and for a while, life felt stable.

He loved learning, respected elders, and carried himself with quiet strength.

How Kush Found Him

Things began to change when Mustapha decided to spend the holidays with his mother in a slum area of Freetown.

At first, we did not see the danger. Then the warnings came.

• Neighbours reported seeing him doing child labour at the market

• He looked dirty, thin, and unwell

• When my mother tried to approach him, he ran away

Later, his mother told us that Mustapha had fallen in with friends who introduced him to kush. Shortly afterwards, she left the country and abandoned him on the streets.

That was when fear replaced hope.

Finding Him on the Streets

One day, on my way to judo training at Don Bosco Fambul, I saw a boy sitting by the roadside.

It was Mustapha.

was begging for food, unable to walk properly because of deep wounds on his feet. His face had changed, and his eyes looked tired and lost. I cried openly, grateful that I had finally found him, yet heartbroken by what I saw.

With the help of social workers, my family and I tried everything. We provided food, clothing, shelter, and medical treatment. My parents welcomed him into our home without hesitation. For a short time, he began to look healthier again.

When Love Was Not Enough

Kush is cruel. It does not release its grip easily.

Despite treatment and care, Mustapha struggled to stop using the drug. Eventually, he was placed in rehabilitation, but his young body and mind had already endured too much.

A few months later, I received the call that changed my life forever.

Mustapha did not survive.

Turning Pain into Purpose

Losing Mustapha shattered me, but it also gave me a voice.

Through Leh We Talk – Wan De Project, I have found a way to turn my pain into purpose. Sharing my cousin’s story allows me to connect with young people honestly and compassionately, not from theory, but from lived experience. I speak because I know what silence costs.

If you are struggling with kush, please seek help now. If you are a parent or community member, listen before it is too late. And if you carry a story like mine, use your voice.

Through Leh We Talk, I will continue to speak, educate, and create safe spaces for young people to choose hope over destruction. Every outreach session I conduct is not just an awareness activity, it is an act of healing, remembrance, and hope for a better future for Sierra Leone’s youth. Mustapha may be gone, but through this work, his story continues to protect, to teach, and to save lives.

— Rashidatu Sesay, Outreach Officer