“I feel good. I don’t feel tired anymore,” says Ko Mg Nge with a weary smile. A hoe rests against his shoulder, his shirt soaked with sweat after a long day in the fields. “After taking two WY pills, I can work all day.”

Ko Mg Nge is a farm worker in Ywangan Township, southern Shan State. Like many in this region, he survives by clearing forests, digging land, and chopping wood, work that is physically punishing. But in a country shaken by political upheaval and economic collapse, exhaustion is a luxury few can afford.

So each day, he spends 1,000 kyats, barely over 30 cents, for two methamphetamine pills, known locally as “WY” or “Yaba.” For Ko Mg Nge and countless others, drug use isn’t about pleasure or addiction. It’s about making it through the day.

A Growing Culture of Drug Dependence

WY pills have become alarmingly commonplace in Ywangan, used not just by adults, but by teenagers as young as 14. “Almost everyone doing hard labor here takes it,” says Ko Mg Nge, who also admits to selling the pills. He gets daily calls from young buyers, many of whom are already out of school and bearing the burdens of adulthood.

“This drug keeps us awake. It makes the body feel light. Without it, we can’t keep up with the work,” he explains. Then his voice falters. “I know it’s not good.”

Across the township, teenage boys take the same pills to endure long days in the fields. Years of economic collapse have pushed families to send children to work. With no access to opportunity or education, meth becomes a dangerous crutch, one that offers short-term relief at a devastating cost.

When Fatigue Turns to Violence

What begins as a coping mechanism can quickly spiral into something darker.

“At first, it was just to stay awake,” says a relative of one drug user. “Now, if my brother doesn’t take it, he gets angry. He shouts at our father. It’s frightening.”

In September 2023, the region was rocked by a shocking incident: a 25-year-old man, reportedly high on meth, stabbed his father. He was detained for one night and released the next day.

“I never thought I’d see something like this in our peaceful town,” says Ma Kyawt, a resident of Ywangan. Her husband, once quiet and gentle, now steals household supplies to fund his habit. “He even tried to stab me when I refused to give him money. I live in fear.”

Similar tragedies have played out across Shan State. In February 2025, a young man in Namsang allegedly stabbed his parents to death during a drug-fueled episode.

A Systemic Crisis, Not Just a Local One

Ywangan and Namsang aren’t isolated cases. They are part of a broader drug epidemic sweeping Shan State, one rooted in systemic neglect, armed conflict, and criminal profiteering.

Before Myanmar’s 2021 military coup, Ywangan was gaining attention for its coffee farms and eco-tourism. Today, it’s one of many towns where meth flows freely, sold in villages, karaoke bars, gambling dens, and even schools.

“Drugs are easier to get than clean water,” says a woman from Namsang. “Teenagers get them from dealers connected to militias. We all know who’s behind it, but no one can stop them.”

According to a 2024 report from the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC), Shan State is responsible for 88% of Myanmar’s opium production. While opium cultivation has slightly decreased, synthetic drugs like methamphetamine are exploding in volume.

Thai authorities say the conflict in Myanmar has fueled the drug trade. Meth, heroin, and other synthetics now flow across borders, produced in hidden labs in Shan and Kachin States, often with backing from armed groups and transnational crime networks.

Drugs as a Weapon of Control?

For many residents, the crisis goes beyond addiction, it’s about control.

“They don’t want the youth to rise up,” says Sai Than, a man from Taunggyi. “If you keep people numb, they won’t resist. That’s why they flood the towns with drugs.”

In post-coup Myanmar, where the rule of law has all but vanished, drug dealers operate with impunity. Arrests are rare and largely symbolic. “Even when someone is caught, they’re released the next day,” says Ko Mg Nge.

As long as drug profits are protected and powerful actors remain untouched, the cycle continues, devastating families, hollowing out communities, and erasing futures.

“We Have to Protect Each Other”

Yet despite the despair, some still hold onto hope.

“We need to protect each other,” says Sai Than. “We can’t rely on those in power. We must help our youth before it’s too late.”

But in towns like Ywangan, where meth has become a tool of both survival and suppression, that mission feels overwhelming.

As the sun sets over the quiet fields, Ko Mg Nge heads home, another day behind him, another pill waiting for tomorrow.