As millions of us tucked into Christmas dinner yesterday, people in war-ravaged Afghanistan were barely aware half the world was celebrating a festive holiday.
The country has been plunged into crisis following the withdrawal of Western troops in August, as outside financial aid dries up and winter hits hard.
Charities say more than eight million people are on the brink of famine, with 500,000 children at risk of dying from malnutrition in the next three months.
Very few aid workers are left on the ground due to safety concerns but Unicef Afghanistan’s chief of communications, Sam Mort, is still visiting clinics and hospitals to help starving kids.
Sam, from Aviemore, kept a diary of what she witnessed in November, writing whenever she got time.
She has begged Brits not to forget the unfolding crisis in the country.
Sam said: “While many around the world are enjoying family time and holidays, the people of Afghanistan, especially women and children, are facing devastating poverty.
“As temperatures plummet, disease spreads and unemployment rises, families are struggling to feed their loved ones and keep them warm.
“Unicef is on the ground, in urban centres and rural areas, vaccinating infants, treating children with severe acute malnutrition and providing water for drought-stricken communities. Please help us to help the children most in need.”
Here, Sam explains the horror facing young children in the country:
FIELD DIARY: November 10 5.45am . I open the window; the fresh, icy chill catches my breath. Winter is here and it’s bad news for the people of Afghanistan who find themselves in a fast-unravelling humanitarian disaster.
Today, I’m flying from Kabul to Herat in the west for the first time since the Taliban takeover on August 15. I will meet with our Unicef team and visit health clinics to better understand the challenges staff are facing as the malnutrition crisis deepens.
Afghanistan has long been one of the most aid-dependent countries in the world. Now, the majority of that aid is frozen. That means critical services for children, such as health and education, are collapsing.
Teachers and health workers have gone months without a wage.
Desperate families are marrying their daughters off and exchanging their children in return for a dowry. People are suffering.
When I reach Herat, white Taliban flags line the roadside and merchants are out selling seasonal fruit.
Primary school kids – including girls – are walking to school, many with Unicef’s distinctive backpacks. Since the Taliban takeover, girls in grades 7-12 of public school have not been asked to return, nor have their female teachers, but we hear they have been back in class for four days.
The fragility of this news is underlined for me when we hear, less than a week later, that the schools have shut again.
At the local health centre I’m amazed that, despite not having received their salary since August, the staff still go to work every day.
The clinic’s director shows me her records documenting malnutrition. In the last month she has noted a 50 per cent increase in severe acute cases. Half the country – 23million people – can neither afford nor find nutritious food.
The doctor tells me about one mother who couldn’t breastfeed and was subsisting on a diet of bread dipped in black tea once a day.
This underlines the urgent need to scale up Unicef’s direct cash transfer programmes so families can buy the food they desperately need. Cases of severe acute malnutrition are lingering, the doctor says, because mothers often share sachets of ready-to-use therapeutic food (RUTF) between their other kids back home.
Herat, November 11
Outside, it’s 1C. We drive to another health clinic where we meet Malika, a mother of three children under six. Her husband sells chickens when he can. Some days he sells none.
Malika gently places her four-year-old daughter, Parwana, on a chair. She sits slumped, unable to raise her head. She is not curious about the strangers in the room and wears a haunted expression. Her cheeks are hollowed out; her skin dry, wrinkled and paper thin. Her hair is bald in places.
Malika told us Parwana won’t eat anything she prepares; she winces in pain if she eats bread and cries.
The nutrition counsellor quickly does a raft of tests, including measuring Parwana’s upper arm which looks no thicker than a broom handle. She weighs 9.10kg.
She should be double.
Her mother is given a prescription for RUTF, the high-energy peanut paste which promotes growth. Unicef is the sole supplier of RUTF in Afghanistan.
We currently have supplies in our warehouses but we will soon need more.
At the pharmacy Malika collects 28 sachets of RUTF, then tears open a packet and urges her frail daughter to eat. Parwana gently takes a bite. But as she swallows, she winces in pain. Her stomach is tender. She eats slowly and steadily. Fifteen minutes later, she needs a rest. Parwana will need four of these sachets each day for a week. Then she will return to the clinic for tests and more supplies of RUTF. This cycle will continue until she is out of danger.
She is, of course, one of the lucky ones.
Unicef has warned that, without urgent action, 1.1million children under five could be at risk of dying from severe acute malnutrition. This is why we need the global community to rally and support the kids of Afghanistan. This is a make-or-break moment.
November 28
It’s a chilly start as I set off for Bamyan in the central highlands of Afghanistan. As the country spirals deeper into a humanitarian crisis, I’m here to better understand how malnutrition is affecting rural communities. Frozen waterfalls and snow-covered peaks flank us as we wind our way through the impressive Koh-i-Baba mountains. Gazing at the arid soil, I wonder how anyone makes a living on these lands.
On the rooftops of most houses we pass there are already piles of sticks, dry bushes and dried animal manure fashioned into bricks for burning throughout winter. But Afghans need more than fuel. With half the country – 23million people – unable to afford a nutritious diet and with rising food prices, malnutrition rates are climbing daily, with devastating consequences.
At Bamyan Provincial Hospital the director takes me to the ward where children with complicated cases of severe acute malnutrition are being treated. Cases have increased by around 30 per cent but, the director cautions, this is just the start of winter. It will get worse.
In the first bed, just 60 days old, is tiny Hamid. Already fighting severe acute malnutrition and sepsis, he stares ahead, too weak to be interested in my wiggly fingers or silly faces.
His exhausted mother, Fatima, is by his side. Malnourished, she is unable to produce enough breast milk for him.She is grateful for the hospital support but also says she cannot stay for two weeks while her son recovers. She has three other children who have colds, are hungry and need her at home.
Her husband, like so many in Afghanistan, used to be a day labourer – a man who would do odd jobs for cash-in-hand. Work has dried up and he now tries to sell vegetables on a mobile cart. Sometimes he makes $1 or $2 per day. The family of five live on bread, rice and potatoes day in, day out.
She looks at me, resigned and hopeless.
Unusually, in a ward for such severe cases of malnutrition, there’s a wee shriek. Someone is trying to get my attention. In the next bed Danyal, eight months old, is the most alert of the children in the cots. He has been here for nine days.
His father used to work for a Chinese contractor but that ended after August.
Unicef’s RUTF has been a large part of Danyal’s recovery.
His mother beams with gratitude and relief and tells me it has been transformative. She asks to take more home with her.
Today Danyal is fun; he is bright and curious. He doesn’t understand my facemask and tugs at it playfully.
As I continue meeting mothers at the hospital, every single one tells me the same story: in the last few months her husband lost his job; the family plunged into poverty; they have no savings; it’s winter and their kids are getting sicker.
Most upsetting is this: they have no hope that things will improve.
That is why we need governments and financial institutions to step up and support the people of Afghanistan now, in their hour of need – for children like Hamid who are fighting for life and children like Danyal who, thanks to the right healthcare at the right time, is fighting back for a chance at childhood.
By Rory Stewart, Former Secretary of State for International Development of the United Kingdom
Afghans are starving. Hundreds of thousands of Afghan children will die this winter without our support.
Schools and clinics are shutting, millions have lost their jobs.
The economy is in freefall. Britain, the US and others should help.
It was our sudden withdrawal that precipitated this horrifying tragedy.
We have deep bonds of obligation and responsibility towards Afghans suffering under a Taliban regime. And we can help. There are many NGOs and agencies on the ground with good staff and deep experience.
But the West is failing to act quickly enough - why?
Because politicians feel humiliated and bitter about the defeat.
And because they are pretending that they can influence the Taliban by withholding aid.
But threatening to starve Afghans to influence the Taliban is neither practical nor ethical.
This diary is the most troubling, deeply moving testimony to the heartbreaking tragedy unfolding day by day in Afghanistan through individual lives.
We should use it as a call for action to our consciences and to put pressure on our governments to be flexible, urgent and generous in their support.
Don't miss the latest news from around Scotland and beyond. Sign up to our daily newsletter here .
