There is a tablet making rounds in this town. White, small, innocent - looking and inscribed with the word Cosmos. It starts at the miraa joints ( baze ya veve or muguka). One tablet to "boost the buzz." Then another. Then you’re three days deep, eyes wide open, watching the sun rise and set without blinking. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t bathed. You haven’t slept. And when you finally crash? You don’t wake up for 72 hours. They call it “ulevi wa siku tatu.” You chew miraa, pop a Cosmos, and suddenly you’re invincible. You don’t feel hunger. You don’t feel cold. You don’t feel anything except the high. Then you come down, drink tea… and the high comes back. Because tea reactivates it. Every cup is a ticket back to the trip. This is not a drug. This is a trap. There’s a man they call Doc at Asian Quarters. Allegedly a thin Somali guy. Every miraa chewer in Nanyuki knows him. He supplies the tablets that turn young men into zombies. Walk into any Cushite wedding, and the story is the same. The food is laced. The juice is spiked. The water is not water. Guests swallow without knowing. By nightfall, they are wild, intoxicated, doing things they won’t remember until the wedding video comes out. Now, even strict Muslim communities have resorted to daytime nikah only; sign papers, go home before night. Because weddings have become drug dens disguised as celebrations. The signs are everywhere. When you see those mogoka chewers carrying water bottles, don’t dare sip. That water is not for thirst. It’s a delivery system for Cosmos. Users lose interest in the opposite sex. They’d rather spend hours with men, in dark rooms, chasing a high that kills everything else. Families are broken. Wives are beaten. Children are neglected. Because Cosmos turns men into time bombs; angry, unpredictable, violent when they don’t get their dose. Some traders have started spraying it on crops. “Shamba ya Babu ndo nataka.” Yes. They’re now feeding it to the earth, to the plants, to whoever consumes them. This is not a joke. Cosmos is not a party pill. It’s not a "mood enhancer." It’s a chemical cage. Three days awake. Three days asleep. Months of your life stolen, replaced with rage and emptiness. Young men are dying. Not from overdose. From the life it steals. From the marriages it destroys. From the minds it erases. If you are using, stop. If you know someone who is, speak. If you see that white tablet, crush it, flush it, burn it. The dealers don’t care about your future. Doc doesn’t care about your family. They only care about the money you bring.