A Visit with Afghan Refugees
Open Doors partner Miranda* was recently blessed with the opportunity to visit Afghan refugees, in an undisclosed location. She shares her reflections here.
The smell of urine flooded my nostrils as we entered the apartment block where many Afghan refugees were staying. Our contact told us that these refugees had come even before the fall of the Kabul government on 15 August 2021. It all started when the Taliban began its quest of capturing the country—step by step, village by village, town by town.
As we climbed up the narrow stairs, I saw that the sides of it were filled with broken old stuff: furniture, bicycles, broken wood etc. When we arrived on the top floor, happy faces of women and children enthusiastically greeted us at the entrance of an apartment. They were all smiles, looking at us and saying something to us that we could not understand. “They are just saying thank you for the help you have provided,” said our local contact.
As we climbed up the narrow stairs, I saw that the sides of it were filled with broken old stuff: furniture, bicycles, broken wood etc. When we arrived on the top floor, happy faces of women and children enthusiastically greeted us at the entrance of an apartment. They were all smiles, looking at us and saying something to us that we could not understand. “They are just saying thank you for the help you have provided,” said our local contact.
We were then ushered into a small room where we were greeted by three men and one woman. They invited us to sit on the carpeted floor. The closed room still felt cold as it was winter and there was no heater or fireplace in the room. A few young Afghan women came in to serve us tea and sweets as refreshments.
An Afghan refugee camp.
“I sang Afghan songs for a living. My career is considered sinful by the Taliban. And I have three daughters. The Taliban will take them as wives, even without my approval,” said the singer. All of them had sold everything they owned in Afghanistan to come here. But life has been difficult for them as refugees. They are unable to get a permit to work and earn an income, but still have to pay to renew their refugee status every year. On top of that, they must pay rent for the place they are staying.
“Sometimes, we don’t know what to spend our limited money on – food, rent, medicine or sometimes renewing our refugee card,” said a mother, with a baby crying in her arms. She and many other women were part of the Afghan refugees that we visited that week. “The Taliban took my husband away when we were crossing the border. My son, my three daughters and I made it here, but one of my daughters died from an illness,” one refugee woman told a team member. As the woman was sharing her story, we noticed her son. The expression on his face clearly showed it all – anger, bitterness, hatred. There was so much pain.
“Sometimes, we don’t know what to spend our limited money on – food, rent, medicine or sometimes renewing our refugee card,” said a mother, with a baby crying in her arms. She and many other women were part of the Afghan refugees that we visited that week. “The Taliban took my husband away when we were crossing the border. My son, my three daughters and I made it here, but one of my daughters died from an illness,” one refugee woman told a team member. As the woman was sharing her story, we noticed her son. The expression on his face clearly showed it all – anger, bitterness, hatred. There was so much pain.
I thought to myself about how extremely difficult it must be to be a refugee. What future is there for them? They say no one asked them how they could be helped. Right now, they cannot work. They are
professionals – doctors and nurses – but they cannot practice their profession in a foreign land. There is paperwork to do and permits to chase. There is no telling how long they will be here, in transit between
countries – longing for a home, and trudging toward whatever lies ahead. They lost their husbands and children to the Taliban, and now they are picking up the pieces of whatever is left.
“What hope do we have, for ourselves, for our children?” said another refugee woman, who worked as a schoolteacher back in Afghanistan. Pointing to a young girl sitting next to her, she said, “She finished her school education in Afghanistan. She is supposed to be in college. But now she can’t. She can’t study. She can’t work. What can she do?”
Hope. It is the one thing that they need so desperately. “Please don’t forget us!” they pleaded with us before we left.
Through your support, Open Doors helped this refugee family with practical aid, and continues to be present with them in their time of need. “You’re the only group who came to help us,” they said. A listening ear and visits from a ministry partner can give our Afghan brothers and sisters hope. But I know that there is still so much to do. Yes, we can help practically, but the greatest hope we can give them is to pray for them to know the source of hope – Jesus Christ.
