Story

Afghanistan: Children of Balkh

In Oqa, a tiny Balkh village, children soak up the sun on an old daybed that belongs to an elder. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

In Zadyan, about 15 miles away, ethnic Turkmen girls weave a carpet. Their father will sell it at a bazaar for between $300 and $500; in the West, such a carpet can cost up to $20,000. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Mahdi, 11, has been running the soft drinks stall in Mazar-e-Sharif for his uncle since he was 7 years old. At first, the work was part-time, but after he graduated fourth grade he quit school to become a full-time street vendor. I often buy pomegranate juice from him. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Often my breakfast in Afghanistan consists of a packet of juice (thanks, Mahdi!) and a couple of hardboiled eggs. Boys sell them to motorists and passersby for 20 cents a pair. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Abdul Bashir, a 15-day-old boy, is treated for his first opium overdose. In hundreds of villages, opium the traditional remedy for every kind of ache, the local panacea. Pregnant mothers introduce their children to opium prenatally, when they dilute specks of the sweet black paste in their morning tea to ease muscle aches, stupefy hunger, and dull depression. After the children are born, mothers typically give them miniscule amounts of the drug to chew in their hand-sown cradles strung from thatch ceilings, in lieu of a pacifier. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Afghans typically don’t celebrate their birthdays. Most don’t even know when their birthdays are, or how old they are. But Awesta’s parents think it is important for their daughter to feel venerated. For her third birthday party, Awesta got to dress up as a princess and share an enormous cake with her cousins and friends. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

In Oqa, Nurullah, 7, gets a sponge bath while his father talks on his cellphone. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

A girl in Oqa peers through a broken roof of a neighbor’s house where a woman is weaving a carpet. In a couple of years, the girl, too, will be old enough to weave. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

The United Nations reports that child marriage in Afghanistan is pandemic, and that 57 percent of marriages in Afghanistan involve girls below the legal age of 16. What is addressed less often, and studied less thoroughly, is that many of the child newlyweds are boys. Here, Ozyr Khul, in a skullcap, plays with his friends a few days before his arranged marriage. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Women decorated Ozyr Khul’s room for his three-day honeymoon. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

At Ozyr Khul’s wedding, a boy carries a plate of veal palau to one of the houses. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Oqa’s girls preen in front of a hand-held mirror. . .
Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

. . .and dance to Turkmen pop tunes playing on an old radio. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

The radio is the only one in the village of 40 homes. After the children are done borrowing it. . .
Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

. . .They will return it to Baba Nazar, a village elder, who will listen to the news and explains it to his 4-year-old granddaughter, Leila. Image by Anna Badkhen. Afghanistan, 2011.

Here are the statistics we hear often: Children under the age of 14 make up almost half of Afghanistan's population. Most live in poverty. Fourteen die every half hour, largely from preventable causes such as acute malnutrition or waterborne diseases. One out of four dies before the age of five. At least one-third of children work outside their home, for money; almost all children older than four work at home, for free.

What people outside Afghanistan rarely see is that when they are not sick, and when they are not at work, Afghan children play and dance; that some get to celebrate their birthdays; and that even in the most impoverished villages, kids goof off and have fun.