Eligible Kenyan athletes at a training camp. Those sanctioned said that once the ban is announced, public vilification is relentless. Photo/ File.When a Kenyan athlete receives the phone call confirming a positive drug
test, it can not only shatter a career but also a life. For one
athlete, that dreaded phone call came early in the morning.
“I started shaking. ‘Like how?’ I was confused…The only
thing I remember is going inside the house, coming outside the house, and then
my wife asked, ‘What’s wrong?’ I was shaking. It [had] a huge impact,” he
recalls.
Confusion and fear followed: he did not know whom to trust
or what to believe. In the lonely days that followed, dark thoughts crept in, and late one night, he questioned why he should go on.
Extensive interviews with Kenyan track and field athletes
who faced doping bans confirm that this despair is common. Seven out of ten
athletes interviewed reported having suicidal thoughts during their ban.
One said: “I remember thinking, ‘Why don’t I just die?’ I
even contemplated throwing myself from the top of the building and letting
everything come to an end”. Another athlete said bluntly, “In the third month,
I felt like things were at a climax, so I tried committing suicide”.
The interviews form part of a new study by Kenyan researcher
Dr Byron Juma and US-based Jules Woolf, published last week in the Performance Enhancement & Health journal.
The study uncovers what happens to Kenyan athletes after a
doping ban. The authors write that “many reported psychological struggles,
including suicidal thoughts, with one requiring psychological intervention
after a suicide attempt.”
Seven of the ten Kenyan runners interviewed admitted to
thinking about ending their lives. Athletics is the main income earner for most athletes, and most described persistent anxiety about their future and their
ability to support themselves and their families.
The authors warn that mental ill health is worsened by
abandonment by Athletics Kenya (AK), the federation overseeing track and
field, which immediately cuts ties, citing a policy of non-engagement with
sanctioned athletes.
“When you are
sanctioned, you are alone. I don’t think AK will listen to you,” said one
athlete, who claimed AK stopped answering his calls.
Two other athletes also received no response when they
sought help. Anti-doping officials
echoed athletes’ concerns. One official of the Anti-Doping Agency of Kenya
(Adak), who has worked at the agency for five years, acknowledged that AK
distances itself from sanctioned athletes and admitted the absence of
psychological support.
ADAK is the national body responsible for catching and
prosecuting individuals involved in doping in Kenyan sports. It collaborates
with the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and the Athletics Integrity Unit (AIU)
to test athletes, investigate violations, and issue sanctions.
The official’s observations reflected the anti-doping
community’s awareness of the mental and emotional strain sanctions cause, yet
do little or nothing about it.
“AK’s limited support
may reflect Kenya’s deep talent pool, which stretches resources, forcing AK to
prioritise eligible competitors over sanctioned ones. Without institutional
support, sanctioned athletes faced not only emotional isolation but also the
abrupt collapse of their professional livelihoods,” the authors said.
Dr Juma, the lead author, is an assistant professor and programme coordinator in sport leadership and recreation at the US’s Emporia State University. Dr Woolf is a researcher on the management of drugs, sport, and health at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
The athletes said that once the ban is announced, public
vilification is relentless.
Some athletes were mocked with nicknames tied to the
substances in their cases. “These nicknames, often used by peers or community
members, served as a constant reminder of their violation. For instance,
WanjalaM (name changed) was greeted by the name of the supplement linked to his
sanction, while MusyokaM (name changed) was dubbed ‘Mr. [substance]’ after testing positive
for a Beta-2 Agonist. Over time, such labels affected their identities, with
MusyokaM noting how he was repeatedly referred to as ‘the [type of] person who
uses drugs,’” the study authors said.
The punishment spreads far beyond the athlete. “When you
sanction them, it is not only the athlete who suffers, but also the immediate
family, the extended family, and the community,” an anti-doping official
observed. Athletes who once supported whole households suddenly face shame and
financial ruin. Children watch their parents crumble.
“While no definitive conclusions can be drawn, Kenyan
athletes’ concerns for their children underscore the urgent need to examine and
mitigate any potential impacts of sanctions on these ‘unseen victims’. This
represents a novel direction for future research, offering a family systems
perspective on the consequences of anti-doping enforcement,” Dr Juma and his colleague said.
Their paper is titled, “The hidden cost of doping sanctions: examining the experiences of Kenyan
athletes sanctioned for violating anti-doping rules.”
Many athletes said they turned to alcohol. “MusyokaM (a former long-stance runner) shared
that he would hire a motorbike rider to deliver alcohol and drink with him,
saying they would ‘just laugh about nothing.’”
Under WADA’s strict liability rule, athletes are responsible
for any banned substance found in their bodies, even without intent. The study
notes that this principle “makes successful appeals seem futile, leaving
athletes feeling powerless.” The result, researchers say, is deep hopelessness
and mistrust.
The rule states that “it is not necessary
that intent, fault, negligence or knowing use on the athlete’s part be
demonstrated to establish an anti-doping rule violation.”
Dr Damaris Ogama, a Kenyan lawyer and researcher on doping
interventions, said this rule potentially leads to unjust punishments for
innocent athletes who ingest prohibited substances inadvertently.
“Contamination of supplements is becoming an acute problem.
Research has found that certain vitamins and protein powders contain additives
that are not declared because of poor manufacturing standards. An athlete who
consumes such a product in good faith may end up testing positive and suffer
career-threatening ramifications,” she wrote recently.
About 257 Kenyan athletes have been sanctioned for doping since 2017, according to the Athletics Integrity Unit, which enforces rules in track and field games. A total of 19 Kenyans have been banned in 2025 alone.
Despite the despair, many Kenyan athletes have refused to give up
the sport that defined them. “Kenyan athletes expressed a strong desire to
return to competitive sport, with some successfully re-entering competition and
others transitioning to ASP (Athlete Support Personnel, such as coaching)
roles, reflecting a continued sport commitment.”
Some used the ban period to pursue education or farming,
others to coach younger runners. One athlete said the experience had “opened
your mind and made you think outside the box.”
Dr Juma and Woolf called for authorities to provide
mental-health services and coping skills to help athletes manage their
post-sanction identity disruption and stigma and potential return to sport.
They said the wider consequences of sanctions on athletes’
families should prompt sports organisations to also focus on the needs of
athletes’ families and offer targeted interventions to aid reintegration or
separation from sport.
They argue that doping bans should protect sport’s integrity
without destroying human lives.