Dr Emad Rehman is a clinical psychologist at the Dost Foundation in Peshawar
It’s been five years, maybe six, since I started working as a clinical psychologist in Peshawar.
My clients have mostly been young men with a history of heroin or opium abuse.
But in October last year, I met my first patient with an appetite for crystal methamphetamine, also known as Ice.
The 16-year-old boy had travelled all the way from Mardan, family in tow, to seek help.
I remember peeking into the registration office as he came in, staring for a long while at his frail body, weighing no more than 50 pounds. He was nervous, struggling to hide signs of his withdrawal symptoms.
I must admit though that at the time I did not know much about the drug.
Back home, I ran a quick search on the Internet. Then, still unsure, I called up some colleagues in the city to consult, but few proved helpful.
No one seemed to know much. There was very limited information out there. Finally, I reached out to acquaintances in Islamabad.
When the weekly sessions initially began, the boy was reluctant and would often display aggressive behavior.
It isn’t uncommon for recovering addicts to display anger. But this was of a kind I hadn’t seen in users of other drugs. It was more intense. It was frightening.
A few sessions later, he got comfortable with me and his surroundings, and began to talk. He was first introduced to Ice, he confessed, a year ago.
An uncle’s friend had come to visit the family from Malaysia. He told the boy that he worked in Malaysia as a security guard and would often smoke or inject crystal meth to stay awake for long hours on the job.
Soon after the interaction, the teenager was traveling thrice a week to Jamrud, a town in Khyber Agency, to buy 3-4 grams of the drug for himself and to sell to his friends.
Ice addicts, I soon learnt, are prone to isolation. The boy would not socialize with anyone. I seem to be his only companion. In the first phase of detoxification, 70 percent of the treatment was with the help of medicines, and 20 percent involved counseling. Over time, the ratio reversed.
Today, the teenager's 90-day treatment is almost complete. He will be leaving soon. But even with him gone, I still have my hands full. Since I met him, we have seen a gradual increase in the number of Ice users at our center.
Peshawar, my home, is waking up to a new drug problem.
Rehabilitation centres treating for overuse or overdoses of the drug operate discreetly in the country's urban centres and come with hefty price tags.
In 2016, Dr. Khalid Mufti, who runs a private clinic in Peshawar, treated over 200 meth abusers aged between 18 to 30-years. Of these, 18 percent were young women, some of whom had come from Islamabad.
"Ice is like sweet poison," says Dr. Nadeem Ashraf, who runs a private rehabilitation center in Lahore. "It first boosts your level of confidence but then it eats away at your body, slowly weakening it."
