Selling children to survive: Afghan fathers forced to make impossible choices
Selling children to survive: Afghan fathers forced to make impossible choices
Selling children to survive – In the early hours of a frigid morning, a cluster of men congregates in the sun-baked square of Chaghcharan, the provincial capital of Ghor in Afghanistan. Their faces, etched with exhaustion, reflect a shared hope that someone might offer work. The promise of a job could mean a meal for their families. Yet, the chances of such an outcome are bleak. Juma Khan, a 45-year-old father, has managed just three days of employment in the last six weeks, earning between 150 to 200 Afghani per day—equivalent to roughly $2.35 to $3.13 or £1.76 to £2.34. “My children fasted for three nights straight,” he recounts, his voice trembling. “My wife wept, and my children clung to my legs, begging for food. I implored a neighbor for funds to buy flour, fearing they would perish from starvation.” His experience mirrors countless others across the nation, where survival has become a daily gamble.
The Crisis Deepens: A Nation on the Brink
According to the United Nations, Afghanistan now grapples with an unprecedented humanitarian crisis, as three-quarters of its population struggles to afford basic necessities. Unemployment has surged, healthcare systems are overburdened, and the aid once sustaining millions has shrunk dramatically. The country is contending with record levels of hunger, with an estimated 4.7 million people—more than a tenth of its population—teetering on the edge of famine. Ghor province, already one of the hardest-hit regions, exemplifies the dire reality of this situation.
Among the desperate, Rabani’s voice cracks as he recalls a phone call: “They told me my children hadn’t eaten for two days. I felt like ending my life, but then I wondered how that would help my family?” His words underscore a collective sense of helplessness. Khwaja Ahmad, another man in the crowd, begins to weep before his sentence is completed. “We are starving. My older children died, so I must work to feed the rest. But I am too old, and no one wants to hire me,” he says. The emotional weight of these choices is palpable, with fathers grappling between survival and sacrifice.
A Family’s Unbearable Dilemma
A visit to Abdul Rashid Azimi’s home reveals a family on the verge of collapse. Inside, his two young daughters—Roqia and Rohila, seven years old—cling to him as he explains his plight. “I’m ready to sell my daughters,” he sobs. “I am poor, in debt, and without options. I return from work parched, hungry, and overwhelmed. My children cry for bread, but what can I offer?” The mother, Kayhan, adds, “We survive on bread and hot water, not even tea.” Her sons, now teenagers, work as shoe polishers and garbage collectors, their labor fueling the family’s meager existence.
A similar tale unfolds with Saeed Ahmad, whose five-year-old daughter, Shaiqa, was sold after a medical emergency. “I had no money for her treatment,” he explains. “So I sold her to a relative. The 200,000 Afghani—around $3,200 or £2,400—saved her life.” He pauses, embracing his daughter, whose small arms wrap around his neck. “If I had taken the full amount then, he would have taken her away. I asked for enough to cover the surgery now, with the promise that in five years, the rest could be given.” The emotional toll of this decision is evident, yet Saeed believes it is the only path to ensure Shaiqa’s survival.
The Breaking Point: A Nation’s Struggle
Two years ago, Saeed and his family were recipients of food aid, receiving flour, cooking oil, lentils, and child supplements. That lifeline has since vanished, leaving families to fend for themselves. The US, once Afghanistan’s largest donor, nearly halted all aid last year, exacerbating the crisis. Other key contributors have also slashed their support, leaving millions without essential sustenance. “If I had money, I would never have made this decision,” Saeed says, his words carrying a mix of guilt and desperation. “But I thought, what if she dies without the surgery? At least she will live.”
Meanwhile, the local bakery near the square becomes a fleeting source of hope. When the owner distributes stale bread, it is snatched within seconds by dozens of men, each fighting to secure a piece. A motorcycle rider later arrives, seeking a brick carrier, and a scramble ensues. Only three men are hired in the two hours we observe, highlighting the scarcity of opportunity. In the surrounding hills, where homes stand empty and the land is barren, the impact of unemployment is stark. Families are not just struggling to eat; they are battling to keep their children alive.
Quotes That Echo the Crisis
“My children went to bed hungry three nights in a row. My wife was crying, so were my children. So I begged a neighbor for some money to buy flour.”
Juma Khan’s words paint a grim picture of daily survival. “I live in fear that my children will die of hunger,” he adds, reflecting a universal anxiety among fathers.
“I got a call saying my children hadn’t eaten for two days. I felt like I should kill myself. But then I thought how will that help my family? So here I am looking for work.”
Rabani’s plea captures the emotional toll of prolonged hardship, as men face the choice between self-preservation and their family’s welfare.
“We are starving. My older children died, so I need to work to feed my family. But I’m old, so no one wants to give me work.”
Khwaja Ahmad’s admission underscores the generational divide in the crisis, as the elderly are left behind in a system that favors the young and able.
“I’m willing to sell my daughters. I’m poor, in debt and helpless. I come home from work with parched lips, hungry, thirsty, distressed and confused. My children come to me saying ‘Baba, give us some bread’. But what can I give? Where is the work?”
Abdul Rashid Azimi’s tears reveal the depths of despair, as fathers are forced to barter their children for a chance at survival.
“All we have to eat is bread and hot water, not even tea.”
Kayhan’s statement highlights the severity of the food shortage, as families are stripped of even basic comforts.
“If I had taken the whole sum at that time, he would have taken her away. So I told him just give me enough for her treatment now, and in the next five years you can give me the rest after which you can take her.”
Saeed Ahmad’s explanation of the transaction between him and the relative adds a layer of complexity to the crisis, showing how families navigate survival with calculated desperation.
The Road to Famine: A Nation’s Fragile Future
The stark contrast between past and present underscores the magnitude of the decline. Where food aid once provided stability, today’s fathers are left to make heart-wrenching decisions. For many, selling children is a last resort, a means to secure their future. “If I had money, I would never have taken this decision,” Saeed repeats, his voice a mix of sorrow and resolve. Yet, the reality is that without such sacrifices, the alternative is starvation.
As the sun rises, the square remains a microcosm of a nation in crisis. Men persist in their search for work, their faces a mix of hope and resignation. The children, unaware of their parents’ struggles, watch the exchange with wide, anxious eyes. This is not just a story of hunger; it is a tale of fractured families, dwindling hope, and the unrelenting grip of poverty. For millions, the question is not whether they will eat, but whether their children will live to see the next day.