Water crisis in Afghanistan: The burden on women and children
By Sana Atif, Mahtab Safi, and Freshta Ghani
It’s 5:10 in the morning, and 12-year-old Hadia* tightly grips two yellow 20-litre water buckets as she sets out to fetch drinking water from the mosque in the Adah Hakim Sahib area of Kandahar City. She’s not alone. In addition to the men using the water to perform ablution for morning prayers at the mosque, a line of 50 others wait to fill their own containers. Like Hadia, they are enduring a severe water shortage at home and rely on the mosque. Hadia waits an hour before it’s her turn to fill her containers. To her dismay, the mosque’s tap runs dry before she can fill her buckets. “The mosque’s tap only provides water for ablution in the morning, and then it gets disconnected. That’s why I try to wake up earlier than usual. However, even then, it’s so crowded that I don’t get a turn before the well dries up,” says Hadia.
In the morning, Hadia’s sole concern is finding drinking water. So, after leaving the mosque, she goes to a nearby stream. After dipping the first bucket into the murky water, the skinny girl takes deep breaths as hoists it onto the stream’s edge, before repeating the effort with the second bucket.
Hadia has to hunt for water two or three times a day because the wells where she lives have dried up and other water sources are salty. None of the 100 families in that area have reliable drinking water. Hadia has to do heavy work of finding water, as well as supporting her family by waiting tables in restaurants and doing outside laundry because her father, a drug addict, is in a Taliban rehabilitation centre in the city.
She’s had to fetch water for three years, since the family lost access to free local sources. “In our area, a liter of clean well water costs one afghani. We consume four or five 20-litre buckets daily, which amounts to more than 120 afghani ($1.38), while I earn less than 60 afghani per day,” she explains. On the other hand, fetching water is a tiresome hour-long journey, which leaves her exhausted.
More and more Afghans are finding it difficult and expensive to access drinking water. Though water scarcity and resultant depletion of underground water sources have been pressing issues for a long time, the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reports that climate change has reduced access to drinking water across the country. In a May 14 tweet, OCHA explained that 21.2 million people currently lack access to drinking water, which is 60 pecent of the country’s population. Last year, that share was 48 percent.
OCHA also estimates that $479 million is needed in 2023 alone to address the current water crisis, safeguard public health, and expedite services. However, water experts deem this goal to be unattainable due to the lack of a comprehensive water management plan by the Taliban and skilled labour to undertake such efforts.
In an interview with Zan Times, Najibaqa Fahim, formerly a water law professor at Kabul University, explains that proper water resource utilization necessitates advanced technology, financial resources, and a specialized workforce, all of which are currently lacking in Afghanistan. “Due to internal management weaknesses and the declining interest of the international community in Afghanistan’s issues, some foreign institutions that were previously working in this sector have also withdrawn from the country,” he notes.
A continued water crisis will have especially dire consequences for children and women, he warns: “During our travels in 2018, we learned that if the water scarcity issue is not resolved in Afghanistan, it will deprive children and women of access to welfare facilities, work, and education, leading to the spread of poverty in society.” In addition to those risks, the children and women who are responsible for providing water also endure significant physical harm by continually hauling such heavy loads.
Hadia frequently experiences muscle and bone pain from her daily labour: “Sometimes, when I lift a large bucket, my shoulder bone gets injured. There is a woman in our village who specializes in fixing bones and injuries [this traditional treatment is called shikastabandi in Afghanistan]. When she sees me, she says, ‘Your shoulder is dislocated,’ and she treats it with turmeric and egg. It gets better after a few days.”
In addition, Hadia and her family often get sick when they have to drink the murky water from the stream. “The water I bring from the stream is brackish, and most of the time, we experience sore throats, stomach aches, and headaches. The clinic doctor advises us not to drink brackish water. It is so bad that even when I take a bath, my body becomes itchy and sensitive,” she tells Zan Times.
The water crisis is being felt across Afghanistan. In Jawzjan province, 11-year-old Zaytoon* is responsible for getting water for her 10-member family in Yangi-Arygh village. Three times a day, she walks 20 minutes to the well to get a total of 120 litres of water. Even though she carries barely enough water to meet her family’s needs, such hard work has taken a toll on her body. “When I get tired from work and bring water from the well with a bucket, my hands become numb, and I struggle to carry the buckets,” she tells Zan Times.
In addition to hauling water, she attends fifth grade and also works in a warehouse where she picks over 14 kilograms of cotton, earning 80 afghani a day. Once a week, she collects animal dung from the land where locals graze their sheep. “I collect the dung so that my mother can use it to bake bread for us by burning it in the tanoor [traditional oven-like pottery used for baking bread],” she says. In her village, many children in the 2,000-odd families also have to fetch water for their families.
Like Hadia and Zaytoon, 11-year-old Ahmad* is also forced to walk long distances with a donkey cart to fetch water for his home. He and his family reside in Tappe Eidgah in Firozkoh city of Ghor province. Their house is atop a hill, making it challenging to walk for an hour to fetch water. And he usually does it alone, as his father works as a daily wage labourer and cannot accompany him. Last winter, Ahmad was injured when he slipped on the icy winding path while hauling water. He broke his hand and had to rest it for about a month. Then, when he ventured out again to get water in the winter, he fell, breaking his right foot. Though the injuries still cause severe pain, he is forced to endure it to get the precious water. “Yesterday, while my mother was doing laundry, she sent me to fetch water. I fetched water twice, and my hands started hurting. I went to my mother crying and told her that my hands were in pain, but she scolded me and told me to go and fetch water because she had work to do. So, I had to fetch water, but I was very tired. I lifted the buckets with difficulty,” he recounts.
Dr. Mohammad Azim, an orthopedic specialist in Afghanistan, warns that such lifting and carrying of heavy objects can cause serious damage to the bones of growing children. “If this continues for a long time, it can lead to the misalignment of children’s spinal columns, which directly affects the blood supply to the brain. It can cause persistent headaches, and if there is more cellulitis or spinal misalignment, it can put pressure on the heart and cause hypertension,” he explains. He further emphasizes that the most significant harm is inflicted on children who do not receive proper nutrition and carry heavy weights in their hands or on their shoulders to provide water for large families.
When it comes to women carrying such heavy loads, the risks can be life-threatening. Sayara* was two months pregnant when she went to fetch water in Aybak city in Samangan province. The 25-year-old was heading home from a stream with a full 20-litre bucket when she suddenly experienced severe pain in the lower part of her abdomen and started bleeding. Even while in pain, she had to carry the water home, where her condition worsened. “I was bleeding heavily. I immediately sent my daughter, Hadisa, to our neighbour’s house, and the neighbour’s wife came and told me that I had a miscarriage. When my husband got to know about it, he slapped me several times, asking why I didn’t take precautions,” she says. Despite the miscarriage, Sayara continues to walk the one-hour journey to the water source twice a day, hauling back a minimum of 80 litres each day for her family.
For Hadia, her family’s lack of drinking water means that her mother has decided to marry her off to the first suitor. They want to use the dowry money to install a drinking water tap into their home. “We can’t continue like this,” Hadia says, “By drinking contaminated water, we are risking our lives.”
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the interviewees and journalists Atia FarAzar* and Mahsa Elham*, who contributed to this report.
