By Mahsa Elham*
This narrative was told by Shakeeba* to Mahsa Elham:
Three days a week, before sunrise and after morning prayers, I strap my six-year-old daughter to my back, pick up a sickle and pair of gloves, and start walking. I am going to harvest barley on a farm in a mountainous region of Ghor province.
The brutal trek is more than 15 kilometres long. My toes, exposed in my worn shoes, are injured by rocks and thorns. I also have to endure the sun’s scorching heat and sores caused when I place bundles of barley on my head and shoulders. The work is painful and tiring.
Some nights, I’m so exhausted that I can’t walk the 15 kilometres home to my other children. My daughter and I will spend the night in the mountains, nestled next to a pile of barley. As the sky darkens, my body trembles with fear of predators that fills my thoughts until dawn. In addition, I worry about the well-being of my children.
On nights that I make it home, I am so tired and in pain that I become delirious. My eldest daughter, 15, helps me sleep by massaging my hands and feet with fats that my children collect from butchers. When my blisters burst, they turn into sores that burn with pain.
I endure these hardships solely to feed the bellies of my four daughters and three sons. They’ve asked me to quit this labour, saying that it’s the only way for my sores to heal. As well, they ask to work alongside me or suggest that we could survive by begging.
The landowner pays me one kilogram of barley for every 20 kilograms that I harvest. I try to save it for our winter expenses. Although barley bread is hard to eat, it’s the best option when there is nothing else available to combat hunger. And in my home, there is rarely any other food. So barley bread keeps their bellies full.
My hardships are unfortunately shared by my children. Aged between 6 and 15, they are unable to attend school due to our poverty and destitution. They leave early in the morning and spend their days collecting garbage or begging around the town, before returning late at night. I always fear that dogs or something else might harm them when they scavenge.
They work so hard that many nights I’m home before they are and I have to go out and bring them back home. They earn enough to buy four or more loaves of bread a day. While we wish we could wear new clothes on Eid holidays, there isn’t enough money. So we obtain our clothing and shoes by begging from people’s homes. Some are disdainful as they donate their old belongings.
My children can’t help but see neighbouring families wearing new clothes, eating fruit and better food. “Mother, our neighbours had apricots today, or apples and grapes; get some for us, too,” they plead. But I have not been able to afford new clothes or fruit for them. It’s very difficult to head a family, especially when most are children. My addicted husband has been missing for more than three years, and given that none of my relatives have offered help, I strive to provide for my children on my own.
Years ago, NGOs used to help us and our life was better. But since the NGOs closed in the past year, the lives of many families have worsened. Like me, many parents are forced to beg or engage in gruelling work. I have approached various Taliban departments for assistance five times. Aside from one instance of help – when the Taliban’s rural development department gave a bar of soap, shampoo, and a toothbrush – I have received no other help. I was turned away from the Taliban’s immigration and emergency departments because I had no connections to their officials. “You’ve received enough from the previous government. Go away, or we’ll shoot you,” said one Taliban member.
Recently, I spoke with the landowner about harvesting his wheat after the barley harvest was done. This time, my eldest daughter will work in the fields with me so we can collect more wheat and not endure food scarcity in the coming winter. God forbid, my children should not die nor should I be forced to sell them.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the interviewee and writer. Mahsa Elham is the pseudonym of a Zan Times journalist in Afghanistan.
