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Caught between Taliban decrees and Trump executive orders 

This narrative was told to a Zan Times journalist. 

On January 15, a Pakistani police officer came to our door and, in a mocking voice, said, “Go to Afghanistan, the Taliban will take you to America.” We are an eight-member family. The officer insisted we move to the Haji Camp, a holding facility for refugees. I told them we have no male guardian and pleaded to stay temporarily, promising we would soon leave for America. On December 24, 2024, the IOM requested our documents, stating we should wait for a final email confirming our flight schedule. However, the officers ignored emails from the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and gave us one day to leave Islamabad.

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On that day, we hurriedly packed our belongings and headed to Peshawar where we knew life for a family made up entirely of women would be extremely difficult. We consoled ourselves that these were the final days of our ordeal, and soon we would have some respite.

On January 21, we learned from media reports that the new president of the United States, Donald Trump, had suspended the processing of immigration cases for three months.

We are stuck, unable to start new lives, fearful of being forced back to live under the Taliban. 

My name is Zakia Ghafoori and I am 24 years old and have a university degree in economics. Before the collapse of Afghanistan, our life was stable. My six sisters and I all worked. Our father, who served in the military, had a good salary.

In 2021, the Taliban killed our father a month before they took over Afghanistan. Life for a fatherless family of seven daughters became a nightmare. We were still grieving his loss when the Taliban began imposing restrictions on women’s lives and activities. 

My mother often said, “Under the Taliban, families with daughters will never find peace, especially if their father was in the military.” This fear forced us to leave our homeland. With the help of one of my father’s friends, we obtained Pakistani visas and moved there in September 2021. While our mother is head of our family, as the eldest daughter, I am responsible for managing the family’s finances.

We had little money, and started selling my mother’s gold to make ends meet. Life in Pakistan is incredibly hard – jobs are scarce, and when they are available, the pay is meager. Initially, one of my sisters found a job at a food stand. Later, two more of us found work. Though our income was small, it covered our basic needs. Still, we managed to survive as our immigration case was processed through the UNHCR.

In October 2024, as our visas were nearing expiration, the IOM sent us an email instructing us not to renew them or allow our passports to receive exit stamps from Pakistan as our immigration case was complete and our flight was being arranged. This news filled us with joy. We didn’t renew our visas and stopped working. In December, IOM contacted us to submit the final documents for arranging our flight. We prepared the documents, stopped going to work, and packed our bags, thinking our time in Pakistan was almost over.

Now, we are in Peshawar, struggling with economic, mental, and emotional hardships. We are left wondering what will happen to our lives. Amid these unending challenges, we have come to realize that we must take matters into our own hands instead of relying on the uncertain support of governments whose policies shift daily for political reasons.

Trump’s recent decision has thrown thousands of people — those who have spent years waiting for immigration to the U.S., who left their countries, homes, and lives behind — into confusion and despair. Among them are many people like us who are facing life-threatening dangers in Afghanistan, unable to work or live freely under the Taliban’s discriminatory policies. Families like ours, with no male members to provide protection or support, are among the hardest hit by this U.S. policy change.

We have now decided to take our first step to regain some control over our lives by applying for Pakistani visas to avoid deportation due to our illegal stay. However, the cost of a visa in Pakistan is US$400 per person. For our family of seven, we need $2,800, plus an additional 50,000 Pakistani rupees for application fees. With no income, this amount is beyond our imagination.

We know that this is just a glimpse of the immense challenges that Afghan refugees face in neighboring countries. Ours is merely one of the thousands of displaced and stateless families. The fall of the republic and the return of the Taliban have turned our society upside down. Our stories of hunger, persecution, displacement, and statelessness will continue until we have a responsible administration and a government that truly supports its people.

I often ask myself: What if we had succeeded in reaching the U.S. before Trump’s administration began? Naturally, our family would have had the chance to work, live a normal life, and escape the fear of the Taliban and the constant threat of deportation by Pakistani authorities. My sisters, deprived of education and work, could have started lives free from these fears.

But the line of Afghan refugees and displaced people is so long that even if the refugee system to the United States reopens, there would be countless girls, women, children, and even men in Peshawar, Islamabad, Tehran, and across Afghanistan who would remain vulnerable, stateless, and discriminated against. While efforts must continue to relocate refugees to safer countries, we must not forget that the ultimate solution lies in rebuilding our homeland. Migration cannot be a collective solution. Like my family, Afghanistan itself is on the brink of leaving for a better destination, only to have the changing policies of world leaders slam shut the door we believed was our path to salvation.

My family and I now mark the beginning of our fourth year in Pakistan, waiting for a flight to the U.S. My mother is ill. My youngest sister, who is just 15 years old, is also unwell and, like the rest of my sisters, is barred from education in Pakistan. She was in the eighth grade when Kabul fell to the Taliban. Now, public schools refuse to accept Afghan refugees and the fees of private schools are exorbitant. 

Most Afghans living in Pakistan constantly worry about their futures and their children’s lives. We are caught between Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada’s decrees and President Trump’s executive orders. Our homeland was handed over to a misogynistic, anti-education, anti-freedom group through an agreement signed in Doha, and now the doors of the world are closed to most of us.

Khadija Haidari is a Zan Times journalist. 

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