Winter In Afghanistan
Di James, the founder of WinterWarm, worked as a teacher in Kabul during 2006, and what follows is a letter describing winter in Afghanistan written by one of her former students who works for Save The Children Sweden-Norway. It is this letter which inspired The WinterWarm Project and we hope that you read it. We also hope that it will move you, as it moved us, to begin knitting.
Now one can see only the sparkling white mattress laid everywhere. This joyful sight is not long lasting and is suddenly shattered when one thinks of the hundreds of thousands of families who can’t afford to buy fuel for heating. One starts to abhor snow when one sees child peddlers or beggars running after cars, attempting to persuade those inside to buy their goods or give them some money. It is painful to see women in wet burkhas following cars and begging. One hears stories about families who sleep to cope with starvation, and yet cannot sleep because of the cold.
Children are stood in traffic, hands pulled into their sleeves as an alternative fashion to gloves, their sleeves white with snow. They run, many of them, after cars. Their faces appear at half misty windows, shuddering and begging, “Khyrat Bedeh”, their breath frozen on their lips. Their eyes tell the tale; they have not had breakfast; their skinny faces show clearly that they have had no food for an unknown period. Their torn jackets complain; they cannot protect them from the snow and cruel cold. Snow falls constantly and covers their hair, then slowly dissolves, changes to drops and slides down, freezing again before they hit the ground.
Some people think of snow as an elixir that helps them triumph over the fear of drought, but snow, for all its beauty, makes some people cry. Cry for a father whose children cry for food and a little warmth. Cry for a mother who begs out in the cold to bring food to her children, while her children cry at home for their mother to be with them. Cry for a mother who squeezes her tiny baby under her jacket to keep him warm, but can’t do anything to feed him. She, herself, has not eaten enough, how can she feed her baby?
I can’t cry any more. Help me cry for a family who live not in a protective shelter, but a tent with many holes in it, camped on a wet piece of ground, crying for enough food and dreaming of a little warmth.
Yes, these parents dream too. They are ordinary people and dream as we do. However, we have much more and dream of a better tomorrow. They dream for today. They dream of bread for their children. They dream of a time when their children are not hungry, and are warm. They dream of a time when they can look at each other knowing their children are satisfied.
Sayed Farhad Hashemi, Kabul, 2006
If you find this letter as heartbreaking as we do, please consider How You Can Help. Together, we can make a difference in the toll of the winter to come.
