A daughter and mother fighting for survival
Eight-year-old Sahar constantly worries about the future of her mother and her two younger brothers. She fears the upcoming winter, and worries that her mother might not be able to buy coal, leaving their small room cold. Sahar worries about the possibility of homelessness, since they cannot afford to pay rent on their own. She fears her uncle might one day lose his patience and throw them out of his house. “Where would we go then?” she asks. Sahar dreams of her five-year-old brother having a bicycle like other boys and wishes her father were still alive. Her mother has taught her to accept her fate, but Sahar cannot reconcile herself with such deprivation. The fear of what lies ahead for herself, her mother, and her brothers never leaves her mind.
Sahar’s mother spends her days and nights at the sewing machine so that Sahar can have warm clothes, school uniforms, notebooks, and pencils, and so her two sons don’t go hungry. She works tirelessly to buy coal to heat their home during winter. Trapped in a vortex of hardship, Sahar and her mother face challenges rooted in decades of war — or perhaps struggles that began much earlier.
Although Nadia taught her daughter to accept their fate, she herself never stops fighting for survival. Using her sewing machine, she tries to alleviate some of the crushing burdens placed upon her family. Yet she knows that there must be opportunities for work and support from family and society for life to run more smoothly, for people not to be ground down by problems. Under the Taliban regime, women and girls especially need the support of husbands, fathers and brothers. A bitter question likely haunts the minds of all Afghan women and girls, particularly those without male guardians or those who are heads of their households: How can they even survive?
Nadia is university-educated. She used to be a math teacher at a high school in Farah province. Nadia, like many of her colleagues, was forced to stay home after the Taliban shut high schools for girls. She is a widow. Her husband, a soldier, was killed in battle against the Taliban. Nadia now has neither a husband nor a job. All she has is her sewing machine, on which she works from morning until night to keep her orphaned children from going hungry.
In addition to Sahar, Nadia has two sons — five-year-old Mohammad and two-year-old Yasin. Her children often ask about their father. Sahar knows her father will not return, but her brothers still imagine a day when he will come home with gifts and surprises. When Mohammad asks Nadia when their father will bring him a bicycle, she wipes away her tears and whispers, “Your father isn’t coming back.”
Nadia and her children live in a dimly lit room in the corner of her sister Fatima’s courtyard. For this single room and a small share of the courtyard, she pays 2,000 afghani a month in rent. Sewing is her only source of income. It’s gruelling work, consuming her days and nights as she sits tirelessly at her sewing machine. Nadia is utterly alone. Aid organizations can’t help her because she has no way to reach them. She often recalls the days when she was a teacher, educating many girls whom she hoped would have bright futures. Now, both Nadia and those girls are trapped in their homes.
Nadia’s sister Fatima has no children of her own. While Fatima wishes to support Nadia, she lacks the authority to do so. Like most Afghan women, she cannot make decisions without her husband’s permission. Fatima loves Nadia’s children as if they were her own but feels powerless to meet their needs.
Despite her hardships, Nadia refuses to give up on her dreams. Sometimes, while working at her sewing machine, she loses herself in the memories of her teaching days, remembering how her students looked to her with hope and enthusiasm as they learned mathematics. Nadia vows to keep working as long as she has strength, determined not to let her children have to beg for help.
She knows she is not alone — many women face similar or even worse situations across Afghanistan. In recent years, thousands have lost their husbands or been abandoned, leaving them as the sole providers for their families, all while losing access to job opportunities and basic freedoms. Nadia dreams of a day when she can escape poverty and unemployment so she can support other women in similar circumstances.
Sahar, Nadia’s daughter, is often quiet and worried. At an age when she should be enjoying carefree days, she is consumed by concerns about her family’s present and future. Nadia tries to shield her daughter from depression, but it is difficult. A young girl without a father, a mother struggling to make ends meet, and a daily burden of helping with household chores and caring for her brothers inevitably carries the weight of the sorrow that hangs over their home.
Names are changed for security reasons. Marwa Najib is the pseudonym of a freelance journalist in Afghanistan.
