Without electricity or heating: this is what winter is like in Kabul

KabulPeople who have never lived in Kabul often imagine Afghanistan as a dry and warm country. Many are surprised when I tell them how cold it becomes 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. The cold is sharp enough to numb your hands within minutes, and the air itself feels heavy, biting, and relentless.

But cold alone is not the hardest part. Cold without electricity, without money, and without certainty is what makes winter unbearable.

Here in Kabul, we only have electricity for few hours a day. Sometimes it is four hours, sometimes seven, and sometimes not at all. We never know when it will arrive. In winter, electricity is even more limited than in summer, when life is already difficult. When the lights suddenly turn on, everything becomes urgent. We plug in our phones immediately. Rechargeable lamps are turned on to store light for the night. Power banks are charged quickly, and the refrigerator runs for a short time. We have learned to live according to electricity, not the clock. This struggle is not new; it existed before the Taliban and continues under them, but winter makes it much harder.

Without electricity, heating the house becomes a daily challenge. Electric heaters are mostly useless. Firewood and coal are the main sources of warmth, but they are extremely expensive. A single “kharwar” 700 kilograms, of firewood costs between 12,000 and 14,000 Afghanis, around 220 US dollars, while the average monthly income in Afghanistan is about 100 dollars. According to the United Nations, more than 90 percent of Afghans live below the poverty line, which explains why winter is a season of fear for so many families.

Because heating the entire house is impossible, we heat only one room. In our home, like many others, all family members gather in that single room to escape the cold. We use a brazier, a traditional heating method: a low table placed over a small coal heater, covered with thick blankets. We sit around it, stretch our legs underneath, and share the little warmth it provides. We eat there, spend our evenings there, and at night, we all sleep in the same room. This is normal for us, but I know it may sound unimaginable to others.

For families living in extreme poverty, even firewood and coal are unaffordable. Some burn old car tires, plastic, or other unusable materials just to survive the night. The smoke from these fires fills homes and streets, causing severe air pollution across Kabul, especially in winter. Breathing becomes difficult, but people have no other choice.

Life without electricity

Not having electricity affects every part of daily living. Hot water is not always available. When there is no power, water heaters do not work, so we heat water on gas just to wash ourselves. The refrigerator is often off, so food cannot be stored safely. Meat or chicken must be cooked and eaten the same day, because we never know when electricity will return. Sometimes food is kept near the window or outside, using the cold air as a natural refrigerator.

Darkness comes early. By five in the afternoon, the city is already dark. Streets empty quickly. With no electricity and freezing temperatures, we go to bed early, not because we are tired, but because there is nothing else to do and warmth exists only under blankets.

Every winter, Kabul’s streets fill with images that are impossible to forget. I see street children lighting small fires on the sidewalks, using old cans or scraps of metal to keep the flames alive. They stand close to the fire, stretching their hands toward it, trying to steal a few moments of warmth. Many wear thin clothes, worn shoes, or even sandals, completely unprepared for the freezing cold. Some are very young, still children, facing winter without shelter, protection, or choice. The fire offers brief warmth, but it also fills the air with thick smoke that burns the eyes and lungs. I often walk past them knowing I can go home and close the door, while they stay behind. It is a quiet, painful struggle, children fighting the cold with almost nothing, and it stays with me long after I leave the street.

Winter under the Taliban feels heavier. There is less work, less income, and more fear. For women, life is already restricted, and winter adds another layer of isolation. Even while enduring the cold, people are not only worried about this season. There is deep fear about the year ahead about food shortages, hunger, and the possibility of famine.

When I go to sleep on cold nights, wrapped in blankets, I often think about how different winter must feel in places where light, heat, and security are normal. Here, winter is not just a season. It is a test of endurance.