Winter in Kabul is not just a season, it's a test of endurance
KabulPeople who have never lived in Kabul often imagine Afghanistan as a dry, hot country. Many are surprised when I tell them how cold it gets here in winter. Kabul is a city situated at an altitude of about 1,800 meters and surrounded by mountains, and every winter it snows and temperatures can reach ten or fifteen degrees below zero. It's a long, relentless winter. The cold freezes your hands in a matter of seconds, and the air is absolutely icy. But the cold alone isn't the worst part. The cold without electricity, without money, and without certainty is what truly makes winter here unbearable. In Kabul, we only have electricity for a few hours a day. It might be four, seven, sometimes none at all. We never know when the electricity will be back on, and in winter, the supply is even more limited than in summer. When the lights suddenly come on, everything feels urgent. We immediately plug in our cell phones to charge their batteries. Rechargeable lamps are switched on to store light for the night. We also quickly charge the external batteries, and the refrigerator works for a while. We've learned to live by electricity, not by the clock. This struggle isn't new. We had the same problem during the international troop presence in Afghanistan, before the Taliban returned to power. But winter makes it much harder.
Without electricity, heating the house is a daily challenge. Firewood and charcoal are the main sources of heat, but they are extremely expensive. Seven hundred kilos of firewood cost between 12,000 and 14,000 Afghanis, about 178 euros, while the average income in Afghanistan is only 85 euros a month. According to the United Nations, more than 90% of the Afghan population lives below the poverty line, which explains why winter is so frightening for families.
Since heating the whole house is too expensive, in my house we only heat one room in winter. We do it with a charcoal brazier: we place it under a low table covered with thick blankets, and the whole family sits around it, stretching our legs underneath to share what little heat there is. We eat there, spend the night there, and sleep together at night. I know it might sound strange in other countries, but for us it's normal.
For families living in extreme poverty, even firewood or charcoal is out of reach. Their only option is to burn old tires, plastics, or other waste to survive the night. The smoke from these fires fills the houses and streets, and the air in Kabul is even more unbreathable in winter.
Life without electricity
Not having electricity affects every aspect of daily life. For example, having hot water isn't easy either. When there's no electricity, water heaters are obviously useless, and we have no choice but to heat a pot of water with a gas canister to be able to wash. The refrigerator doesn't work either, and there's no point in leaving food inside. We have to cook and eat meat or chicken the same day we buy it because we never know when the electricity will be back on. Sometimes, we put food near the window or directly outside to keep it cold.
In winter, it also gets dark earlier. By five in the afternoon, it's already dark, and the streets empty quickly. Without electricity and with freezing temperatures, we're asleep at my house by eight or nine at night at the latest. Not because we're tired, but because there's nothing else to do, and the only warmth is under the blankets.
Every winter, on the streets of Kabul, I see children trying to keep warm by making small fires on the sidewalks. They light them inside old cans or on the ground itself, and hold out their hands to try and warm themselves a little. They have hardly any warm clothes; some are even wearing flip-flops, and they try to keep warm by wrapping themselves in plastic bags. Some are very young, but even at this age, they have to face the winter with practically nothing. When I see them, I can't help but feel heartbroken, and I keep thinking about them throughout the night. In my house, at least, we are lucky enough to be able to heat just one room. Others don't even have that.
Winter with the Taliban is even harsher. There is even less work, less income, and more fear. Fear of not having enough food, of going hungry, and of being arrested without knowing why. For women, if our lives are already full of restrictions, winter adds another layer of isolation.
When I go to sleep wrapped in blankets, I often think about what winter is like in places where there is electricity, heating, and security. We have never had any of that in Afghanistan for decades. Here, winter is not just a season. It is a test of endurance.
