Qat Power

Harar is a city in the plant’s grip, with the local economy dependent on the growing, packaging and transportation of the psychotropic narcotic, and the people’s social life and psychological wellbeing almost entirely propped up by it. Qat is everywhere in Harar: people clutch bags of it, women sell it on the street, and men loll on the pavements, on porches, under canopies and beneath trees slowly but deliberately picking off its leaves to shove in their mouths. Cheeks bulge as they grind it down, sucking on the juice that brings about the drug’s effect. As people open their mouths, fragments of green leaf are in their teeth, the tongue is green, and green juice dribbles from the edges of the mouth. 

 

The smell of qat is everywhere too, from the bushels brought to market and the odour emanating from people, from breath (think a mix of zaatar and mint), and even from calls of nature. 

 

Qat is all consuming, with Hararis’ daily life scheduled around purchasing and consuming qat – which for your average Harari is straight after breakfast. For the more disciplined, or those holding down semi-serious jobs, mid-afternoon. Clutching a fresh bag, Hararis will head over to a friend’s house, a café, or a qat salon, where you can purchase directly from the patron, and start chewing away amid socialising and quaffing soft drinks. The session will end in the evening once the high wears off and introspection sets in. This is the routine every day of the year for Hararis and the 10 million others that chew qat in East Africa, Yemen and further afield – except during Ramadan, of course, when the narcotic is only consumed after iftar.

 

Not that Islam seems to impinge upon its consumption the rest of the year; many of Harar’s 110 mosques, men sprawl out from 9am with bags of qat, cigarettes and bottles of soda. At another institution of discipline and order, the local prison, qat was also being consumed. “This is the only prison in Ethiopia where qat is sold; the guards use it the most,” points out Admasu. And in Ethiopia, no one is inside for dealing.

 

The effect of chewing qat leaves takes hold within the hour, relaxing the user but also stimulating the mind. As people pick leaves off the stalks, approximately a centimetre under the stem, to be added to a personal pile and then rolled into a ball to insert in the right cheek, others are enjoying the effect of getting what the Ethiopians call in the Amharic language “merkhana” – high. 

 

The user feels euphoric – not an ecstatic love-everyone feeling, or a damn-it-all-I-feel-great attitude common with other drugs – but a happiness and mental awareness that plunges people into relaying entertaining stories and embarking on animated discussions. Music becomes more engrossing, and worries slip away. It is similar to taking methamphetamine or cocoa (cocaine) leaves, but much less intense, producing a high but also alleviating fatigue as well as appetite. So effective is qat in mental and physical stimulation that athletes use it, and students take up the habit. “When students use qat they become geniuses, they can study hard,” says Admasu.

Getting “merkhana” requires a certain degree of preparation. A suitable lunch, preferably big on the liquids, is essential, as is plenty of liquid to wash down the qat, which is very bitter, particularly the first time. In the qat market town of Awedday, a trader sought me out a good bushel of qat. “This is enough for you to get merkhana,” he said, thrusting a large bag of around 40 freshly cut sprigs of qat into my hands.

Reclining in the open-fronted hallway of a hotel in Harar later in the day, several of us chomped our way like ravenous goats through numerous bags of qat spread out amid cushions and carpets. A quarter of the way through the bag, rapid conversation ensued, and a third of the way through I started to feel good, very good and at peace with the world. Noticing my increasingly upbeat mood, a fellow qat chewer asked: “Are you merkhana yet?” A nod resulted in smiles and another handful of picked qat leaves thrust in my direction: “chew, chew.”

It became glaringly evident how much of a stimulant qat is later that night when the introspection kicked in. What I took for reading for a short while was in fact three hours, and my brain was still buzzing at 3am. How addictive qat can be was clear the next day when I was feeling a bit grouchy, and by midday I could taste non-existent qat in my right cheek, a clear sign my body wanted to get merkhana again. And it did.

 

Naturally, like any drug, a bundle of money can be made from dealing in qat – at least for the exporters. The major difference between a coke cartel in Colombia and a qat dealer in Harar is that this drug is totally legal in Ethiopia and all the countries it openly exports to. The Ethiopian government even lists qat among its top exports, at 10 per cent of total exports in 2007, earning the country a much needed $26.6 million a year. It is even more profitable than Ethiopia’s other stimulating export, coffee. 

 

Harar fares well in the regional qat exporting stakes. It’s high quality owes much to the area’s high elevation at 2500-plus metres. As Admasu exclaims amid a mouthful of green mush: “The best qat in the world – no, the universe! – is from here!” It’s clearly a proud boast.

 

In neighbouring Djibouti, the qat-addled local bigwigs, not least the president himself, are willing to shell out up to $100 for a kilo of large, juicy Harar qat leaves, while in the US and KSA, where qat is illegal, a kilo goes for $300. 

 

Muktar, local exporter, told me that two hectares of qat bushes will earn $20,000 profit a year – not bad for a country where the average monthly salary is $35. For the farmer, revenues are not as high, but growing qat comes with the significant bonus of having an immediate personal source of narcotics. And the pick of the crop. But as for most Hararis, home-grown produce is not enough for a year long habit, with people spending between 30 to 50 per cent of their income on qat. “I earn a dollar a day, from which I can buy some breakfast, spend 30 to 40 cents on qat, and have some money left for a bite later,” said Lagesse, a 20-year-old security guard in Harar. 

 

Purchasing the daily fix, this is the major downside of being a qat addict. The cost ranges from 10 cents for a few sprigs to $6 for a bushel of 30 or 40 branches bought at source. Quality can be told in the flexibility of the stems, and how soft and succulent the leaves are. White stemmed qat is particularly sought after, being considered an aphrodisiac. 

 

For the hard up, drier qat can be bought and eaten with peanuts and sugar to mask the bitter taste, or else mashed up with a mortar and pestle to be eaten with a spoon – a technique popular with older men that have lost their back teeth. 

 

A full version of this article appears in NOX 23.