Keep Kanna and carry on – a deep dive into nature’s MDMA

If you’re from the UK and neither a drug nerd nor a wellness psycho, then you probably haven’t heard of Kanna – the so-called “nature’s MDMA.”

Sceletium tortuosum – Kanna – is an indigenous South African plant gaining traction in America as part of a suite of legal substances encouraging what you might call “social wellness”.

That suite includes kava and kratom, both legal, though some US states have already banned kratom over concerns about abuse.

All three share a common thread: southern hemisphere plants used indigenously for aeons, now catching attention in Western societies desperate to alter their reliance on booze, opioids and habit-forming stims.

Depending on who you ask, Kanna is either a low-key party favour or a natural anxiolytic meant to calm the rocky inner waters of modern life.

So, what is Kanna? Does it offer a sober-curious route for those trying to simmer down their self-sacrificial hedonism? And, crucially, is it any good?

From Khoisan to clubland

Kanna use stretches back into the depths of South African civilisation, particularly among the San and Khoi peoples. It was chewed as an energy source, a hunger-killer, or an aid in healing and spiritual questing.

The first written record dates to 1662, when Dutch colonialists apparently traded sheep for it.

The magic chemical sauce in Kanna is two alkaloids – mesembrine and mesembrenone. Both are selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), meaning they keep serotonin fizzing in your synapse: a la MDMA, or antidepressants like sertraline and escitalopram.

Mesembrine is considered the more stimulating of the two (though it’s not technically a stimulant), mesembrenone the more chilled. Today, companies sell Kanna chews, drops, vapes, and even nasal sprays, with blends usually pitched under three themes: energy, chill, or horny.

On that last point: there’s circumstantial evidence that Kanna can stave off premature ejaculation – a side-effect often shared with SSRIs and that anyone who’s spent hours frantically trying to land the plane on MDMA will relate.

But what about the rest of its supposed effects? Well, the science is slim. A 2013 double-blind fMRI study found that a standardised Kanna extract reduced anxiety-related amygdala reactivity after a single dose. There’s also animal data with positive anti-anxiety effects reported in mice and (gulp) baby male chicks.

Kanna-issance

I first read about Kanna on Michelle Lhooq’s consistently great Rave New World, where she noted its fringe but growing presence in American psychedelic and wellness scenes.

One of the brands now pushing Kanna is Funguy, whose chews, drops and chocolates come with the tagline: “NO COMEDOWN. NO HANGOVER. NO BAD VIBES.”

When I call founder Phoebe McPherson, she’s in South Africa visiting Funguy’s farms in the semi-desert area called the Karoo. “I personally come from a very spiritual, wellness space and Kanna is incredible for that – but people still like to party,” she says. “You can be a wellness girly or, like, a gym bro but also want to have a good time.”

Her target market? Primarily the sober curious. “Nowadays most people don’t want to take MDMA or be hungover every weekend. But they might in a month’s time.”

Phoebe thinks Kanna can tie the strands together:

“Kanna reduces social anxiety, can lower your inhibitions, and stacks with other ingredients. If you’re out drinking, taking another substance or smoking weed, it’s going to be safe.”

The possible exception here is MDMA and other drugs that hit your serotonin receptors, including SSRIs – best not to mix those.

Which brings us to the inevitable “nature’s MDMA” label that every article feels obliged to mention.

“Kanna is the same psychoactive classification as MDMA, they’re both empathogens. They’re similar pharmacologically, both blocking the reuptake of serotonin,” Phoebe explains. “But MDMA also works on norepinephrine [noradrenaline] receptor sites and it contains amphetamines, so it floods your system. Kanna works more harmoniously with your body.”

She sees the nickname as a mixed bag.

“I was at a conference in South Africa for organic products and natural ingredients. People there were sad about it. Then someone called it bushman’s ecstasy and they really didn’t like that at all,” Phoebe says.

Keep Kanna and carry on

I wanted to write this after hearing the UK’s first dedicated Kanna vendor had launched: Bioextracts. Founder Brad Walker says they’re taking 200–250 orders a month – mostly from clued-up young professionals or the aforementioned drug nerds.

Unlike Funguy’s gummies, Bioextracts sells Kanna as a powder extract cut with mannitol (a sweetener). Their best-sellers are Rush (80% mesembrine), Classic (60/40 mesembrine/mesembrenone) and Zen (50/50).

Brad thinks the MDMA comparison is misplaced: “It’s more similar to mescaline or psilocybin,” he says.

Which gave me pause for my self-test: I didn’t exactly have eight hours free to go drifting across the patterned plains of inner space.

“It’s dose-dependent. The half-life is three to four hours. Orally, it’s slower – in a drink or sprinkled on food. Snorted, it’s 20 minutes of stimulation then 20–30 minutes of afterglow,” Brad says.

Because Kanna doesn’t whack dopamine the way coke does, there’s less compulsion to redose and less habit-forming risk.

Kanna I have some of that?

This self-test came after my longest sober stretch since I was 15, when half of Cornwallis School’s Year 10 were getting served in The Thirsty Pig.

Sobriety was fine, but life was still head-scrambling on other levels. I was clucking for the kind of psychoactive escape no sauna, swim, or smug meditation app can deliver.

On the nose, the powder was mycelial: that earthy twang you get making mushroom tea. Robyn (my fiancée) and I swished half a scoop of the “Zen” blend – about 25–30 mg each, per the website.

Drugs hit me faster than most. Within half an hour, I felt a cranial throb – like the ghost of a pill, dialled way down. I was loose, a bit mushroomy. I could have happily stuck my feet up, but we went to the pub – fortunately so, as I was unexpectedly in imperial form, rattling off three-pint zingers I usually need a big sniff of the barmaid’s apron to achieve.

First test: success. Maybe call it mild mandy? There was no effect on appetite, and I slept well.

Being a man of integrity, I tried again the next day. This time I crumbled it up (it’s clumpy, doesn’t crush well. Maybe I needed a blade…or just more patience).

Up it went at 11:45 am – a phrase I haven’t uttered on a Monday in years. Not long after, another bump from the pre-supplied scoop, less carefully measured. A bitter slick burned down my throat: objectively gross, but nostalgically MDMA-adjacent.

This time, with maybe 70 mg onboard – which users on r/Kanna call a biggish beginner dose – I felt properly stimulated. Phone buttons blurred. I found myself gleefully banging out elder millennial male-coded Britpop bangers while clearing wardrobes for my house move, with an eagerness normally reserved for more familiar earthly pleasures.

As before, this did calm down, and within a couple hours I felt back to baseline and – quite against type – wasn’t surreptitiously eyeing the glass for more.

Kanna have a verdict?

If you need to feel brain-dead to feel anything, stick to balloons or Buzzballs.

I was keen, maybe ludicrously willing. Two uses do not a data set make, and placebo is a powerful pill, but I definitely felt in the foothills of a gentle mushroom trip – before it mellowed into the looseness I normally get after a clutch of wines.

There was no coke-style compulsion to redose, but I could imagine festival-day hits in place of a stim. Ideally, though, a gummy with a fizzy drink (alcoholic or otherwise) feels like the killer format – for me at least.

So, Kanna I have some more? In short, yes. Just maybe no more bumps before lunch on a Monday.