Forgotten Victims of Nyaope Addiction

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In South Africa’s battle against the devastating scourge of Nyaope, the focus often falls on the user - their descent into addiction, the criminal undertones, and the steep path to recovery.

But what of the families left behind in the chaos? For Master of Social Science in Clinical Psychology graduate, Ms Zeldah Makhubele, this question was too important to ignore. Her research - both heartfelt and urgent - gives a voice to those who grieve silently in the shadows: the mothers, fathers, siblings, and extended families of Nyaope users.

In her dissertation titled: “Understanding the Financial, Emotional, and Social Impacts of Nyaope Addiction on Family Members in South Africa: A Scoping Review of Coping Strategies and Support Needs”, Makhubele dives deep into the heartache that addiction leaves in its wake.

‘Nyaope,’ she explains, ‘is a highly addictive and dangerous street drug that has become a major public health and social issue in South Africa, especially in poor and marginalised communities.’

Often a lethal concoction of low-grade heroin, antiretroviral drugs, and other substances, Nyaope has become an emblem of despair and of systemic failure. Yet, while media reports and policy documents focus on the addicted individual, families are bearing the brunt of the crisis - emotionally, socially, and financially, she contends.

‘I was moved to explore the effects on family members because there’s a notable gap in research here,’ says Makhubele. ‘The addiction of a loved one doesn’t occur in isolation. It spills into the lives of those who love them. Families suffer deeply, and yet their pain often goes unacknowledged.’

In many cases, Makhubele found that families are not only emotionally devastated, but also financially drained. Some were forced to repay debts accrued through theft or cover the cost of repeated and often unsuccessful rehabilitation efforts. In particularly heart-breaking accounts, families compensated neighbours and local businesses after their loved one stole from them.

‘Socially, the families become isolated. They face stigma from their communities. Their support networks crumble. Emotionally, they live with shame, guilt, helplessness - a constant turmoil,’ she said.

Perhaps the most startling discovery in Makhubele’s study was the extent to which families have had to normalise the chaos. ‘Many families spoke about learning to live with the situation, not because they had found a way to heal or manage, but out of resignation. That surprised me - the degree to which hopelessness had become a coping strategy.’

She also found that religion and spirituality were prominent sources of solace, with prayer and church communities offering rare havens of peace. Some families turned to professional help, while others resorted to avoidance or, in moments of desperation, banished the addicted loved one from the home.

‘It’s important to realise that coping doesn’t mean thriving. Many families are simply surviving. Their strategies, though necessary, are often temporary and fragile.’

The impact of Nyaope addiction on family dynamics was one of the most distressing aspects of Makhubele’s findings. She describes homes plunged into chaos: ‘Trust is broken. Parents live with guilt and helplessness. Siblings feel neglected or are forced into adult roles. In some cases, extended family members must step in to raise children or help financially. It’s a ripple effect - emotionally and structurally destabilising entire family units.’

When asked about what families need most urgently, Makhubele is clear: ‘They need support that acknowledges their experience. Many families felt existing social services weren’t enough - they’re often under-resourced, not tailored to the realities of these communities, or completely inaccessible.’

The call is not just for more treatment centres but for longer treatment periods, community-based support groups, accessible counselling, and training for pastoral counsellors and laypeople to help families navigate the trauma of addiction.

Makhubele believes that socially responsive scholarship means asking difficult questions. She urges practitioners and policymakers to look beyond the individual – to see the family, the community, and the silent stories waiting to be heard.

‘Addiction doesn’t just take one victim, it takes entire households, and if we don’t support those households, we risk perpetuating the very cycles we’re trying to break.’

She thanked her supervisor, Dr Richard Thabane Khumalo, along with her friends and family, for their support and belief in her.

Words: Rakshika Sibran

Photograph: Sethu Dlamini