Tracking down khat in NYC

In a very interesting article from last year, a Village Voice reporter recounts his effort to track down khat in New York City. In the process, he (and we) learn a great deal about khat's use in Yemen and Somalia, its fairly ridiculous targeting in America, and the cultural prejudice that seems to be keeping it far, far underground.

The effects of khat hardly seem frightening. Some compare the experience, in terms of both physiology and cultural placement, to a strong cup of espresso. Even in stronger terms, it hardly sounds menacing:

Khat is used the same way as the leafy version of chewing tobacco, balled into a side of a cheek. But the chewing lasts for hours and hours (usually some liquid— water, tea, or soda—is needed to ward off dry mouth) and the juice is swallowed, not spit out. Although he's been chewing it since boyhood, Alsaedi says the effect is "hard to explain." You become very relaxed while at the same time very energized. You talk a lot but also listen better. It's great for helping you focus. After the initial khat rush, a contemplative state can take over (some have described it as a mild mushroom trip).

So what's the big deal? Why go to so much trouble to shut down the distribution of khat in the United States?

Unlike other drug dealers, [John] Gilbride [head of DEA in NYC] explains, none of the khat traffickers who have been caught had anything to show for it. No boats, no Escalades, no second homes, no offshore bank accounts, no bling whatsoever. Finally it sinks in—the notion of drug runners from an openly hostile Muslim country taking in millions, with nothing, ostensibly, to show for it. I guess I can see how that might be a concern for someone like Gilbride.

"We know the money from khat sales is not staying in the U.S., it's leaving," he says. "Our task now is to find out where the money is going."

In a way, Alsaedi is right. We do think all these motherfuckers are Al Qaeda.

The reporter's attempts to find khat may ultimately prove futile, but the research is definitely a good window into an obscure and relatively ridiculous corner of the drug war.