Award
winning photo journalist, writer and
documentary-maker Nick Danziger was commissioned by
the Department for International Development to
reveal a unique insight into changes in Afghan
lives over the last five years. Through a series of
individual and personal stories Behind the
Headlines gets to the heart of a country often in
the news but little understood by many in the
UK.
Hayatullah
"I am sorry I’m late,” says Hayatullah apologetically, “I was trying to sort out a row between two neighbours. Their sons were fighting.” Violence is something Hayatullah is used to. His first shop was destroyed in 1983 during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.
Having lost everything, Hayatullah had to labour in the fields. Several years later, he moved 200 kilometres west to the city of Mazar-e-Sharif where he opened a shop and built up the business with loans from friends. But the Taliban take-over of Mazar in 1998 saw the end to that enterprise. He moved back to Badakhshan, as a labourer in the poppy fields. “It was hard work... My health suffered.”
"I am sorry I’m late,” says Hayatullah apologetically, “I was trying to sort out a row between two neighbours. Their sons were fighting.” Violence is something Hayatullah is used to. His first shop was destroyed in 1983 during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.
Having lost everything, Hayatullah had to labour in the fields. Several years later, he moved 200 kilometres west to the city of Mazar-e-Sharif where he opened a shop and built up the business with loans from friends. But the Taliban take-over of Mazar in 1998 saw the end to that enterprise. He moved back to Badakhshan, as a labourer in the poppy fields. “It was hard work... My health suffered.”
Three
years ago, his luck changed. He successfully
applied for a micro-credit loan of 10,000 Afghanis
(£106) which allowed him to open another shop. “I
promised I would not work in the poppy fields
again.” Business, slow at first, now grows
steadily. Hayatullah sells a wide variety of goods
from rice, tea, oil, biscuits and salt to notebooks
and pens... “I know what other shops charge, so I
try and charge a few Afghanis less.” He paid back
his loan over two years and says his life is better
than it has been for 30 years. “It is a huge
difference from before: Then it was a hand-to-mouth
existence. Now I can support my family; my children
go to school, I can take them to the doctor and buy
medicines. Without the loan, I would be waiting to
die.”
Juma
Khan
Like many settlements near the main road from the Russian border to Kabul, Kart-e-sol (which means “peaceful quarter”) suffered disproportionately during the years of war and insurrection.
Now the village has three hours of electricity each evening, TV and a new access road, but a return to anarchy is still a possibility. “We try not to think about the past but fear is at the back of our minds,” says Juma Khan. “We have just rebuilt schools and roads; a return to violence would be heart-breaking.
Juma Khan has more to lose than most: a mild-mannered 55-year-old shepherd with a hundred sheep, ten goats and a few cows and donkeys, he has spent most of his life with animals and was a logical choice to become the community’s veterinary worker.
Like many settlements near the main road from the Russian border to Kabul, Kart-e-sol (which means “peaceful quarter”) suffered disproportionately during the years of war and insurrection.
Now the village has three hours of electricity each evening, TV and a new access road, but a return to anarchy is still a possibility. “We try not to think about the past but fear is at the back of our minds,” says Juma Khan. “We have just rebuilt schools and roads; a return to violence would be heart-breaking.
Juma Khan has more to lose than most: a mild-mannered 55-year-old shepherd with a hundred sheep, ten goats and a few cows and donkeys, he has spent most of his life with animals and was a logical choice to become the community’s veterinary worker.
The
work is largely providing vaccinations, as well as
undertaking castrations and treating parasitic and
infectious diseases. Before taking on this job, he
– like his fellow shepherds – had never consulted a
vet and reckoned to lose about half his livestock a
year. In three years, this has been reduced to less
than 10%.
Juma Khan learned his skills at a four-week course organised under the Afghan Government’s National Solidarity Programme and now earns about 2,500 Afghanis (£26) per month from small charges to the farmers whose animals he treats. “I am an employed person. Everyone respects me now,” he says. He can now buy medicines and support his family. He has a son who wants to be a teacher. “The old ways are disappearing and the children have very different aspirations. They don't want to be farmers or shepherds these days,” he says with a frown.
Juma Khan learned his skills at a four-week course organised under the Afghan Government’s National Solidarity Programme and now earns about 2,500 Afghanis (£26) per month from small charges to the farmers whose animals he treats. “I am an employed person. Everyone respects me now,” he says. He can now buy medicines and support his family. He has a son who wants to be a teacher. “The old ways are disappearing and the children have very different aspirations. They don't want to be farmers or shepherds these days,” he says with a frown.
AFGHANISTAN:
BEHIND THE HEADLINES
