By Simbarashe Crispen Kanyimo
Walk through many of Zimbabwe’s high-density suburbs today, and a troubling scene quickly comes into view.
Long before sunset, some young people are already visibly intoxicated in public spaces.
At busy intersections, touts shout commuter omnibus destinations with slurred voices.
At some bus ranks, cheap alcohol and the smell of smoked substances have become part of the everyday environment.
In many neighbourhoods, informal “bases” have also emerged on street corners, behind shops, and near shopping centres. These are places where young people gather to drink, smoke, and pass the time.
Outside small bars and bottle stores, groups of youths sit on crates or pavements in broad daylight, already under the influence.
The laughter may sound carefree, but the picture points to something far more serious than ordinary recreation.
For many Zimbabweans, this is now a disturbingly familiar reality.
Drug and substance misuse is no longer a hidden issue discussed quietly in private conversations.
It has become a visible public crisis unfolding at commuter ranks, in alleyways, near schools, and within residential areas.
Parents, community leaders, and local authorities are increasingly worried about how quickly young people, some barely out of their teenage years, are being drawn into a culture of alcohol and drug use.
Social media and the shaping of youth behaviour
Zimbabwe’s youths are increasingly exposed to substances such as marijuana, codeine-based cough mixtures, and crystal methamphetamine, commonly known as mutoriro.
Structural problems such as unemployment, poverty, frustration, and limited opportunities are widely recognised as major drivers of this crisis.
However, another powerful influence also deserves serious attention: social media and popular entertainment.
In the digital age, young people are shaped not only by their homes and neighbourhoods, but also by what they watch on their phones every day.
Across TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube, influencers, musicians, and other online personalities command the attention of large and impressionable audiences.
Their lifestyles, language, fashion, and behaviour are closely observed and often copied.
Unfortunately, some of the content circulating online presents substance use as funny, glamorous, or simply part of youthful enjoyment.
Videos of intoxicated people stumbling through nightlife scenes are often framed as entertainment. Images of reckless partying are shared widely, sometimes accompanied by jokes, slang, and captions that make drug use seem harmless.
In such spaces, intoxication can begin to look like a symbol of freedom, rebellion, or social status.
For a generation growing up in economic hardship and uncertainty, these portrayals can be powerful.
When influential figures repeatedly show alcohol and drugs as part of an exciting lifestyle, some young viewers may start to see such behaviour as normal, desirable, or even necessary for belonging.
Music, street culture and normalisation
Music has also played an important role in shaping these cultural messages.
Zimbabwe’s urban music scene, especially genres such as Zimdancehall, has given voice to many young people living in marginalised communities.
Artists often speak about daily struggle, exclusion, hustling, and the pressure of surviving on the streets. That artistic role is important and should be recognised.
At the same time, some lyrics casually reference drinking and drug use. In some songs, substances are woven into stories of survival, identity, toughness, and street credibility.
Repeated exposure to such messages can gradually normalise harmful behaviour, especially in communities where drug use is already visible and accessible.
This does not mean music causes addiction on its own. Nor does it mean artists are solely responsible for what young people do.
However, when harmful behaviour is presented often enough without consequence, it can begin to feel ordinary. That is where culture and crisis start to reinforce each other.
What this looks like on the ground
The impact of these influences is increasingly visible in daily life.
In cities such as Harare, Bulawayo, and Mutare, it is no longer unusual to see young men openly drinking or using substances while moving through their daily routines.
Among some touts, who often work long hours in unstable and stressful conditions, substance use can become both a coping mechanism and part of a wider street culture in which intoxication is treated as normal.
At neighbourhood bases, young men and women gather throughout the day to share cigarettes, alcohol, or other substances. What may begin as socialising can quickly develop into patterns of dependency.
These patterns affect health, decision-making, family relationships, and the ability to earn a living.
According to seasoned social worker Rumbidzayi Marevegwa, the influence of digital culture on youth behaviour should not be underestimated.
“Young people are constantly exposed to images that shape what they believe is normal or desirable,” she says.
“When influential figures repeatedly present intoxication as fun, fashionable, or harmless, it can gradually reduce young people’s perception of risk. Over time, this contributes to a culture where substance use becomes normalised rather than questioned.”
Her observation highlights an important reality.
Social media does not merely reflect behaviour. It can also shape it.
A crisis rooted in more than screens
Still, it would be too simplistic to blame musicians, influencers, or online platforms alone for Zimbabwe’s growing drug problem. The causes run much deeper.
Economic instability, joblessness, family stress, lack of safe recreational spaces, untreated trauma, and growing mental health challenges all play a part.
For many young people who feel stuck, ignored, or hopeless about the future, alcohol and drugs can offer a temporary escape.
That reality must remain central to any serious discussion of the crisis.
Even so, cultural figures still matter. Influencers and musicians speak to young audiences in ways that formal awareness campaigns often fail to do.
Their words, images, and performances travel quickly and repeatedly. That gives them power, whether they use it deliberately or not.
Encouragingly, some Zimbabwean artists have begun using their platforms to warn about substance abuse and to highlight the damage addiction causes to individuals and families.
This is an important reminder that entertainment platforms can also be used responsibly.
What must happen next?
Addressing Zimbabwe’s drug crisis requires a collective response. Families need to stay engaged in the digital lives of their children and help them interpret online messages critically.
Schools should include discussions about substance abuse, media influence, and mental health in their learning programmes.
Churches, youth groups, and community organisations must also create safer spaces where young people can find belonging, guidance, and purpose.
Government action is equally important.
Prevention, treatment, and rehabilitation services need to be strengthened. At present, many communities still have little or no access to meaningful support for young people already struggling with addiction.
The scenes visible in Zimbabwe’s streets today, intoxicated youths outside bars, touts shouting through clouds of smoke, and young people gathering at daily bases, are not isolated incidents.
They are signs of a deeper social crisis.
Social media has become a powerful mirror, reflecting our anxieties, aspirations, and values.
The question Zimbabwe must now face is this: what kind of reflection do we want young people to see?
If the images dominating their screens continue to glorify intoxication and reckless living, it should not surprise us when those images spill into the streets.
But if influencers, artists, families, schools, and communities begin to use these platforms to promote responsibility, resilience, and hope, then the digital mirror could reflect something better: a generation determined to build a healthier future.
Simbarashe Crispen Kanyimo is a researcher with the Africa University Child Rights Research Centre. The opinions expressed in this article are his own and do not necessarily reflect the views of any institution or organisation with which he is affiliated.
