Warning: This story contains distressing details from the start.
“This is like doomsday for me. I feel so much grief. Can you imagine what I’ve gone through watching my children dying?” says Amina, a mother in Afghanistan.
Amina has tragically lost six children, none of whom survived past the age of three, and her seven-month-old daughter, Bibi Hajira, is now in a battle for her life.
Bibi Hajira, suffering from severe acute malnutrition, occupies only half a bed at the Jalalabad regional hospital in eastern Nangarhar province, Afghanistan.
“My children are dying because of poverty. All I can feed them is dry bread and water warmed under the sun,” Amina laments, her voice filled with anguish.
Sadly, Amina’s experience is not an isolated case; many families face similar tragedies, and timely treatment could have saved countless lives.
Bibi Hajira is one of 3.2 million Afghan children suffering from acute malnutrition, a crisis exacerbated by decades of conflict, extreme poverty, and the ongoing challenges faced since the Taliban’s takeover three years ago.
The malnutrition crisis in Afghanistan has now reached alarming levels.
To comprehend the gravity of the situation, one must realize that 3.2 million children gives rise to countless individual stories of struggle. In one hospital ward, the scene is haunting: 18 toddlers lie in seven beds, the silence broken only by the beeping of monitors.
Most of these children are too weak to cry or even move. Sharing a bed with Bibi is three-year-old Sana, who lost her mother during childbirth and is now cared for by her aunt.
In a nearby bed lies three-year-old Ilham, whose malnutrition has left him severely underdeveloped. Just three years prior, he lost his sister at the tender age of two.
The condition of one-year-old Asma is heart-wrenching. Although her eyes are clear, she struggles to breathe through an oxygen mask.
Dr. Sikandar Ghani, attending to Asma, expresses his fear of her imminent death as she succumbs to septic shock.
Within the ward, a sense of despair overtakes the caregivers as they witness the suffering of mothers like Nasiba, who has already buried three children.
“It feels like my flesh is melting. I can’t bear to see her suffering,” Nasiba cries, as her daughter fights for life.
Dr. Ghani’s grim prognosis indicates that Asma could suffer cardiac arrest at any moment. Tragically, she passed away less than an hour later.
In the past six months alone, the hospital has reported over 700 child deaths—an appalling average of more than three a day. The dire situation is somewhat mitigated by the funding that allows the hospital to remain operational.
Before the Taliban seized control in August 2021, international funds supported nearly all public healthcare in Afghanistan. However, following the regime change, the financial support dwindled sharply, triggering a healthcare crisis.
The current lack of funding has compounded issues of poverty and malnutrition, worsened further by natural disasters and climate change.
“The international community should increase humanitarian aid without tying it to political issues,” urges Hamdullah Fitrat, a spokesperson for the Taliban government.
A firsthand look at health facilities over the past three years illustrates the rapid deterioration of conditions, and the harrowing reality is that timely treatment can indeed save lives.
Fortunately, Bibi Hajira has shown signs of improvement after her initial fragile state, having been discharged from the hospital.
Dr. Ghani emphasizes that with more medicines, facilities, and staff, they could save many more children, expressing empathy for those suffering parents.
Malnutrition isn’t the only culprit behind the rising mortality rates; preventable diseases continue to take a toll, with children facing serious health challenges.
In the intensive care unit, six-month-old Umrah struggles with severe pneumonia while her mother watches helplessly.
“I wish I could die in her place. I’m so scared,” Nasreen cries, but tragically, Umrah succumbed to her illness just two days later.
The grim reality is that these cases represent only a fraction of the children in need; only one in five can receive hospital treatment in Jalalabad.
With the pressure mounting, another critically ill infant, three-month-old Aaliya, was immediately moved into the empty space left by Asma.
The Jalalabad hospital serves around five million people across five provinces, and with the influx of over 700,000 Afghan refugees returning from Pakistan, the burden on this facility has intensified.
Recent statistics reveal a startling 45% of children under five in Afghanistan are stunted—a severe indicator of malnutrition.
Robina’s two-year-old son, Mohammed, demonstrates this issue; he cannot yet stand, and his height is a cause of concern.
“The doctor assured me that with treatment in the next few months, he would be fine. But we struggle to afford food,” Robina states, illustrating the dire circumstances.
Having fled Pakistan last year, her family now lives in dire conditions on the outskirts of Jalalabad.
“I’m scared he will be disabled. In Pakistan, there was work, but here my husband rarely finds jobs,” she adds.
Stunting can lead to enduring physical and cognitive impairments that affect generations, as UNICEF warns.
“Afghanistan’s economy is already in crisis. Large portions of the upcoming generation may face disability, raising critical concerns for our society,” Dr. Ghani adds.
Immediate intervention is crucial to prevent lasting damage to children like Mohammed.
However, community nutrition programs suffer from drastic funding cuts, with many initiatives receiving only a fraction of the necessary funds.
In Sheikh Misri, the prevalence of malnutrition and stunting among children is alarming.
Sardar Gul is a father of two malnourished children, three-year-old Umar and eight-month-old Mujib, whom he cradles in his lap.
“Mujib’s weight had dropped to less than three kilos, but since receiving food aid, he has improved significantly,” Sardar Gul notes.
Evidence of timely assistance shows it can help avert unnecessary suffering and save lives.