The Silent Voices of Child Poverty in Afghanistan.
Child Poverty in Afghanistan: A Father's Perspective
Afghanistan's economic crisis has left up to 95% of Afghans in extreme poverty. I have been documenting the secret rise of child poverty in Afghanistan and travel to Sharack-Sabs brick factory to discover the awful conditions faced by families. Here is my interview with Karim-Jan, a father who must watch his children work in an outdoor brick factory to ensure their family's survival.
Inside Afghanistan’s Coal Mines
Here I talk with Mohammed (14) who’s terrified of the mine collapsing on him. Together we go inside to see the deadly working conditions for children.
“One fifth of families in Afghanistan have been forced to send their children out to work as incomes have plummeted”
As the stars shine above Afghanistan’s Bamiyan mountains, nine-year-old Navid is shovelling coal at the bottom of Dari-Suf coal mine.
Within the enclosed tunnels of the mine, coal dust wafts through the air and the unsupported walls crumble to the touch. Navid is terrified of these conditions but he has no choice; he either works here or his family starve.
Navid is just one of an estimated 5.8 million Afghan children who are currently working in dangerous conditions. The combination in 40 years of war and a deteriorating economy has left 75% of families borrowing money to buy food. Poverty is wide-spread and it has forced the next generation of children to give up their education to work for their family’s survival.
Examples of child labour in Afghanistan include forced domestic work, commercial sexual exploitation, forced begging and the production of carpets. In my time on the ground, I have seen children as young as two-years-old selling food on the street, transporting coal out of mines and manufacturing bricks.
Afghan children have been denied a voice in the world and this is their account.
Deh-Sabz Brick Factory
In Deh-Sabz, a north-west district inside Kabul, you’ll find an outdoor factory which manufactures bricks. However, these bricks are moulded and flipped using children who are paid 100 Afghani ($1) for 12-hour days.
My first sight of children working here is 14-year-old Shkrulla who pushes a wheelbarrow filled with bricks. Skhrulla works here from everyday to earn $1 for his family. He tells me his father was killed during the US-led war against the Taliban and now he is solely responsible for his family’s survival.
He remains stoic during our interview, however, his eyes tell the real story. His face does not show much emotion but his eyes well-up with sadness. Once we finish, he begins to cry and I cannot fathom how much pain he is feeling.
14-year-old Skhrulla.
Whilst talking with Shkrulla, 3 children are collecting abandoned plastic and dried grass in my periphery. Suluman (9), Adil (2) and Abzar (7) are covered in dirt and their hands suffer from chronic eczema. These children are not brothers, but simply friends trying to survive together.
I ask Suluman about his dreams for the future and he tears up:
“I don’t think of the future, but only my daily survival”.
Suluman’s father was killed during the war and it became his responsibility to earn for his family.
His voice trembles as he rolls up his sleeve. What he reveals is an arm which has healed crookedly from the 4 times it was broken during his time working in the outdoor brick factory. Not once was he taken to hospital.
As a result, Suluman can no longer work within the factory. His only remaining option is collect fire-material (plastic) to sell with Adil and Abzar.
Suluman (9), Adil (2) and Abzar (7).
I’m here to understand how parents feel seeing their children work in these conditions and I talk with Karim-Jan, a father who works here with his 9 children.
Karim-Jan must watch his children mould and flip bricks under the scorching sun. His family, along with 600 others, live in open-roofed buildings which houses those working here. He is “ashamed” that his children work here but “he does not have a choice, it is a matter of life and death”.
Karim-Jan was a child labourer himself and dreamed that his children would not have the same future as him:
“If I could, I would send all my children to school of course. I wish I could buy all the notebooks they need and all would become doctors and engineers. But this is our future [he points at the bricks]. We have not received any help [from the government or international non-governmental organisations (INGOS)] and we are too poor to return to our province”
Solemnly, Karim-Jan tells me that he does not think his children will be able to escape this life.
Karim-Jan (left).
Karim-Jan’s Children Flipping Bricks under the sun.
Dari-Suf Coal Mine
Over my 2 days in a shared taxi on Afghanistan’s dangerous mountain roads (which resemble more hiking trails than roads), I become friends with a miner called Ali.
Prior to the Taliban takeover, Ali owned a tailor shop in Kabul. However, Afghanistan’s economic recession resulted in Ali’s shop going out of business. Due to coal being Afghanistan’s largest export, working inside these mines remain one of the few jobs available.
Before Ali exits the taxi, he turns around to me and warns: “promise me you will not go inside those mines. They are so dangerous”. I reassure him but ask him how he would feel if his 3 children would have to work inside the mines?
“I would kill myself” he replies.
In Dari-Suf coal mine, I meet Navid (9) and Mohammed (14) who transport coal from the bottom of the mine toward the surface for 12 hours everyday. As I stand with Mohammed at the entrance of the mine, Ali’s warning rings in my head.
I can’t leave without seeing the bottom. I knowcit’d be the cowards way out. I call myself a journalist but won’t enter the mine? These boys risk their lives everyday and I feel it is my duty to enter these mines alongside them.
Mohammed (14) removing coal from his donkey.
With only flashlights on our heads, we enter the mine. These tunnels are barely two meters high and the air is thick with coal dust. I’m petrified, fear runs through my veins and I understand how fearful these boys must be.
After 15 minutes of crouched walking, we reach the bottom of the mine. Out of the darkness an illuminated donkey carrying satchels of coal walks towards us. Behind it, Navid waves at us and commands it to stop.
Navid and I are sitting at the bottom of the mine. These mines contain a toxic cocktail of gasses, such as carbon monoxide, which cause cancer and pulmonary diseases. Children are already suffering here with Navid’s co-worker, Mustafa (9), having painful conjunctivitis due to the hydrogen sulphide.
“I’m scared of the [hydrogen sulfide] gas, it is too dangerous for my life” Navid tells me.
Navid began working here at aged 7 to support his family when his father became unable to work. As the oldest of 9 children, it became his responsibility to provide for his mother and siblings. He tells me that his dream is to become an engineer but without an education, his dream is buried amongst the coal.
“I don’t know about my future, I have to work here” Navid tells me.
After 45 minutes inside, Mohammed brings me back up to the surface. He tells me of his fear being trapped within the mine and grabs a chunk of the entrance wall to demonstrate its fragility. The wall crumbles in front of my eyes and I realise this fear is an inevitability.
These children enter this mine over 50 times a day with no helmets, safety equipment or structural support. Mohammed’s fear happened to former miner Nadir (53).
Leaning on a cane with his 8-year-son, Amir, beside him. Nadir tells me of the dire situation faced by his family. He was a miner here but lost his leg when the mine collapsed. He did not have enough money to pay for a leg-saving operation so was forced to amputate it.
As a result, Amir has become the main source of income for their family. Amir works here everyday to support Nadir, his mother and 7 other siblings.
“It’s difficult, but what can I do?” Amir tells me.
Ultimately, 40 years of war in Afghanistan and it’s long-term economic conditions mean that Afghan children will not be able to escape this life. The question remains on what is being done to protect them?
Nadir (middle) with his 9-year-old son Amir (right).
The Taliban’s Actions
In terms of how the Taliban are dealing with this issue, the current government have established regulations in relation to child labour. However, major gaps within Afghanistan’s labour laws mean that Afghan children are not protected.
Article 13 of Afghanistan’s labour law sets the minimum age for hazardous work as 18 and prohibits those under 18 from being ‘recruited as a worker’. However, it defines the term ‘worker’ as a person who is recruited on a “definite contract”. Consequently, children are not protected because they are employed on an informal basis.
Articles 510-512 of Afghanistan’s Penal Code aim to prohibit the use of male, female and transgender children for prostitution and pornographic performances. However, the United Nations and International Labour Organisation argue it fails to sufficiently criminalise such practices.
Ultimately, whilst the Taliban have a legal framework to regulate child labour, major reforms are needed to ensure that Afghan children have safe working conditions.
The Actions by the West
There is no doubt that the Taliban government must be condemned for its violation on human rights. The United Nations highlight how decades of building women’s rights in Afghanistan have already been wiped out during the Taliban’s one year of rule.
Whilst the West is right in its condemnation, it must realise that it is the Afghan people who bear the consequences of its economic sanctions. Prior to the US withdrawal in August 2021, Afghanistan’s economy was 75% dependent on foreign aid and was propped up by the $150 billion sent from 2001-2021.
When the Taliban took control, it was the Afghan people who suffered the consequences when this flow of aid was switched off. The West have magnified this problem with its economic sanctions, such as the seizure of $10 billion in Afghan assets held abroad.
As a result, Afghanistan’s economy has gone into free-fall and led to over 90% of Afghans facing food insecurity.
The argument must be made to depoliticise the situation in Afghanistan. By ‘depoliticisation’, I mean the West must separate its punishment of the Taliban from the suffering of Afghan families. The West can condemn the Taliban on its human rights record whilst also providing desperately needed humanitarian aid to Afghan families. This has been argued by The Human Rights Watch, who state:
“Afghanistan’s future will remain bleak unless foreign governments engage more actively with Taliban authorities while pressuring them vigorously on their rights record.”
An example of how depoliticisation would occur is with the US’s seizure of $9 billion in Afghan assets held abroad. The US has kept $3.5 billion to repatriate victims of the September 11 attacks. The other half remains in a Geneva-based “Fund for the Afghan People” whose assets are being withheld until the Afghanistan central bank (DAB) demonstrates independence from the Taliban. How the DAB can demonstrate this is unclear and in the meantime the fund’s trustees have “full flexibility and discretion to take the Fund forward as it sees fit”.
In a depoliticised situation, the US would send this $9 billion to international non-governmental organisation for humanitarian aid in Afghanistan whilst simultaneously press the Taliban on its human rights record through international dialogue. Ultimately, this would demonstrate strength against the Taliban and compassion for the Afghan people.
Whilst it is doubtful whether this solution will ever arise, it is clear that the children in Afghanistan continue to bear the consequences.