This narrative has been published in partnership with the Guardian.
My name is Leilma*. I am 33 years old. I am the mother of four children: three daughters and one son.
Ten years ago, devastating wars forced me and my family to leave our home and birthplace in Faryab province and seek refuge in Jawzjan. From the day we arrived here, I became a woman carrying the heavy burden of responsibility on my shoulders, working patiently through hardships to secure a future for my children.
My husband was the breadwinner of our family when the Taliban returned to power in 2021. That year, he suffered a physical disability after a traffic accident, which caused severe damage to his back. He was left unable to stand on his feet or work as he had before.
From that moment, the responsibility of providing for the family fell on my shoulders. For the first time, I was forced to work outside the home.
Every day, I wake up before sunrise. First, I perform ablution and pray the morning prayer. Then I begin my household chores. I prepare breakfast for my children and husband, and then send the children to school.
After that, I prepare food for our cow and goats and set aside some of it so my daughter can feed them in the afternoon. I tie the cow and goats under the shade of trees so they can be protected from the intense heat and scorching sun.
Once I finish my household and animal responsibilities, I head to the hotel where I work as a waitress and cleaner.
From 6:30 in the morning until 8:00 at night, I work continuously for a small wage, just to ensure that my family’s table does not remain empty. Some nights, our work continues until 9 p.m., because weddings are usually held during the day and often end around dinner time or between afternoon and evening prayers. We stay behind to clean the hotel after the guests leave.
On days when there is a wedding ceremony at the hotel, I arrive early in the morning. First, I arrange the tables and chairs. Then I serve the guests food.
When the ceremony ends and the guests leave the hotel, I also work on cleaning and maintaining the hotel. I clean every part of the hotel with brushes, mops, and brooms, and arrange the tables and chairs for the next ceremony.
On days when there is no ceremony, I wash the tablecloths, chair covers, and dining sheets in the hotel’s large washing machine. I dry them on the hotel roof. Once dried, I collect them, spread them back on the tables and chairs, organize everything, and return home.
I have to work 13 to 14 hours every day to earn only 200 afghani a day so I can provide food and basic necessities for my family of six.
Although this income does not cover all our needs, I have no choice but to continue. My children’s hopes are tied to my tired hands. Some days, I bring leftover food from the hotel home so that I can feed my children.
On days when there is no wedding ceremony at the hotel and the management does not ask me to wash tablecloths, I go to people’s homes where I clean their rooms, courtyards, bathrooms, and toilets, and do their laundry.
I live with my husband and four children in a very small house with only one room. On days when there is no work at the hotel or in people’s homes, I make raw bricks at home so that I can build another room for my children. I learned how to make raw bricks by helping my brother do this work. First, I prepare the soil, then mix it with water to make mud. I spend hours pressing and kneading the mud with my feet until it is ready. After that, using a brick-making mold, I shape the raw bricks from the mud and leave them under the sun to dry.
I do all this work alone.
Sometimes, there is a wedding ceremony at the hotel at the same time that the mud for making bricks is ready . I cover the mud with plastic and go to the hotel. After I return home at night, I start making bricks again.
My neighbours tell me that if I continue putting so much pressure on myself, I will collapse. But I do not know any other way.
My husband can no longer work because of his disability, so the entire burden of life has fallen on my shoulders. My children are all still young, and I cannot bring myself to send them to work. I tell myself, “I did not have the chance to study and become a cleaner; let them study and become educated.”
At the hotel, I am one of eight women cleaners. We share a similar fate and responsibility: supporting our families and covering their living expenses.
Despite all these hardships, every day we work to earn a lawful piece of bread and hope that we can build a better future for our children.
*Leilma is a pseudonym. Simen Danishjo is the pen name of a Zan Times journalist.
