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    • Oaxaca Afghanistan Daily Life Portraits




Kabul's lost children
November 2005
By Marshall Allen

KABUL, AFGHANISTAN ­ They are lost children, scurrying through the rubble of a crumbling police barracks in southwest Kabul. This is Camp Riaset-e-Panj, a newly established refugee settlement where the wars of decades past still take their toll.
These sprites have never known another life. The girls wear ragged dresses and colorful headscarves and hoist babies. The boys’ clothes are baggy, their smiles wide. Every one of them is filthy ­ soiled fingers, crusty mouths and matted hair. And they are hungry.
About 2,000 refugees from 200 extended families, most of them children, are squatting here in these ruined buildings. They are some of the 3.5 million refugees who have returned to the country since the fall of the Taliban regime in 2001. Most of this group comes from Pakistan where they have lived in refugee settlements for up to a decade.
The refugees are returning to a homeland that’s finding its feet after 23 years of violence. Buildings blasted by bombs and strafed by gunfire stand like sentinels in Kabul. The country’s economy is tattered, a generation is without education and the Taliban continues its reign of terror ­ kidnappings, murders, roadside and suicide bombings ­ in the Southern regions.
But the people are not without hope. Afghans ­ from laborers to political leaders ­ say they are determined to nurse their democracy to maturity. The country has suffered enough from violence. It’s time to rebuild.
In the meantime, Afghanistan’s children are especially at risk. The childhood mortality rates are among the worst in the world. UNICEF estimates that 210,000 Afghan children under age 5 die annually from malnutrition, disease and the cold. That’s 575 dead children a day.
At Camp Riaset-e-Panj there is no running water, little food and no protection from the cold. The government moved the refugees here this Spring after too many children died of exposure in a tented camp. Today, it’s a sunny November morning. Kites dot the sky and kids frolic amid the dirt and stinking garbage. But already nighttime temperatures are below freezing and it’s not even winter. More children will die this season according to official expectations.
The barracks are treacherous. The twin buildings are four stories high and as long as a football field. A decade ago, battling mujahideen militias blasted and avulsed the outer walls during Afghanistan’s civil war. Some children stay in cement rooms that are exposed, with only plastic sheeting or a tarp to block the wind. In the past three months, four children plunged from the precipices to their death.
Ghulam’s family of five lives in a ground-level room. Like many Afghans, Ghulam goes by only one name. He is between 60 and 65 ­ he doesn’t know for sure ­ and the rich auburn skin of his face, wrinkled by age and suffering, contrasts with his long white beard.
Life is very hard for the refugees and everyone in the camp is worried about the coming winter, Ghulam says. He shakes his head as he points to a small wood stove, donated recently by an NGO to warm the abode. The family can’t afford wood.
“It’s getting too cold,’’ Ghulam says. “Some days we don’t have enough money to buy food.”
Many of the women in the camp are war widows. They may have no income. But Ghulam’s story is typical for the men. When he can find work, he goes to the bazaar to push a cart loaded with ghee, wheat flour or oil. He earns 80 to 100 Afghans a day when he works ­ about two dollars. Ghulam can’t remember than last time his family ate meat.
Ghulam’s daughters Farishta, 10 and Hanifa, 15, sit on the cement floor of their room, which is the size of a two-car garage and covered in spots with worn mats. The brick and plaster walls are crumbling and the outer wall is made of plastic sheeting stretched over a frail wooden frame. Tarps with a faded UN insignia hang from the ceiling, dividing the space in two.
Hanifa is beautiful but she has tired eyes. She does not smile. “It’s a very hard life in here,” the young girl says, flies buzzing near her head. When asked about her hopes for the future, Hanifa says simply that she wants to have a good life.
One of the elders of the camp, a 50-something man named Halaam, says the refugees are hopeful that some NGOs will bring some food and wood for the winter. But even then, donated supplies probably won’t last more than a month, he says.
Halaam, wearing long robes and a white pillbox hat, looks over the dirt and rubble where the children run and skip. Today, visitors brought light to the eyes of the little ones. They gleefully reached cupped hands for small candies and then clasped the treasures tight to their chests. The government has promised free land to repatriate the refugees and maybe some day soon they will all have homes, Halaam says.
marshall.allen@earthlink.net

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