Three women sob as the body of a loved one is carried to the grave. “Oh, my little sister! Where have you gone?” one of them cried. Photographed by Kaaj Magazine.

Through Women’s Eyes: Stories from the Kunar Earthquake

 

On the night of September 1st, a 6.0 magnitude earthquake struck eastern Afghanistan, with Kunar suffering the worst damage due to its mountainous terrain. More than 2,200 people were killed and over 3,600 injured, most of them in remote villages that remain difficult for rescue teams to reach.

By: Sumira Sayedi & Farahnaz Forotan

On the third day after the earthquake, Kaaj’s reporter reached Kunar. What follows is a first-hand account of the difficult journey there and the scenes witnessed among the survivors.

The sound of torn canvas flapping on the emergency tents, the smell of dust and earth, the muffled voices of women behind the cloth, this was the scene in Vadir, a village in Kunar’s western district of Nurgal, which is home to about 36,000 people. In Vadir, rows of homes had collapsed; in one site, which six large houses and several smaller ones once stood, now all of them lay in ruins.

In Vadir village, three emergency tents stand amid the wreckage, offering fragile shelter to women and children who survived the earthquake. Photographed by Kaaj Magazine

“I have nothing left, only the clothes on my body,” said Gul Sheerin.
This is the first time we see the Kunar earthquake through the eyes of women, voices so often unheard in times of disaster in Afghanistan.
In the middle of the tragedy, three emergency tents in Vadir village were set up for women and children who survived. No men or aid workers are allowed inside because sometimes in Afghan society, women are often treated as something to be hidden, even in the midst of catastrophe.

“I have nothing left, only the clothes on my body,” said Gul Sheerin, a survivor of the earthquake. In this video she also explains that her relatives lost everything, not only family members but all their belongings. /Kaaj Magazine. 

After much effort, Kaaj’s reporter was allowed inside the women’s tents. The women were welcoming and wanted to share their grief and stories. Gul Shirin, in a burgundy dress and purple shawl, sat in the tent. A nose stud and bangles represent her regional style and beauty. As she recounts in Pashto the quake, the collapse, and the cries of women and children.

“Four daughters and a son of my brother were killed. His wife was wounded and taken by helicopter to Jalalabad. Eleven members of one family died in the earthquake,” Anargul said. /Kaaj Magazine

Gul Shirin called out to our reporter, “Come here, please. I would like to talk to you.” Soon, other women gathered around her.
When the Kaaj reporter asked for permission to take photos, they shook their heads. “We don’t want pictures,” several of the women said in unison. “We want to talk. We want to record our voices. We are ruined, help us,” they kept repeating.
Gul Sheerin said three of her sons were killed in the earthquake.. She then pointed to another young woman nearby, and added quietly, “She lost four. Altogether, ten members of the family died , and four were wounded.” Gul Sheerin said she has lost all that she had including her house, her belongings, and with it all, the life she built.

In Vadir village, a woman who lost four relatives holds her newborn, the only child to survive.

There were dead bodies everywhere in Vadir. Today, traditional wooden carved Kunari beds, delicate pieces once displayed with pride in homes and gardens, had turned into funeral biers, carrying loved ones lost beneath the earthquake’s rubble.

In Vadir, the dead lay everywhere, as families carried loved ones on wooden beds turned into funeral biers. / Kaaj Magazine
More than 2,200 people were killed when a 6.0 earthquake struck eastern Afghanistan. In Kunar’s remote villages, families carry their dead through the mountains. / Kaaj Magazine.

A few steps away, several men held up a curtain. Behind it lay the body of a teenage girl, swollen from being trapped under the rubble. The women of the family could not lift her alone, so the men stepped in to help. Now it was time to bury her. Three women sat nearby, their grief breaking into loud sobs as the body was carried toward the grave. “ One of the women wailed and said: “Oh, my little sister! Where have you gone? Oh, my little brother.”

Three women sob as the body of a loved one is carried to the grave. “Oh, my little sister! Where have you gone?” one of them cried. Photographed by Kaaj Magazine.

As women on one side prepared the body of the teenage girl, a man spread strips of white shroud cloth across a traditional Kunari cot, perhaps the last belonging he had left. After the earthquake, he was designated as the village shroud-maker. Amid the broken stalks of corn, he worked with startling speed, cutting and stitching shrouds as though it had always been his trade. In the ruins left by the quake, a pair of scissors and the white cloth before him had become the tools of survival and farewell. Families came to him one after another. He would ask a few questions, then silently set to work, cutting and sewing with a speed and diligence that made it seem as if he had done this all his life.

In Vadir, a villager became the shroud-maker after the earthquake, cutting and sewing white cloth for the dead as families came to him one by one.

In Vadir village, impassable mountain roads turned rescue operations into a grueling ordeal. Driving from one village to another took hours without a helicopter. Most aircraft were already busy evacuating the wounded from remote hamlets; without them, the death toll might have climbed to tens of thousands.

In Vadir village, blocked mountain roads made rescue efforts an exhausting journey. Photographed by Kaaj Magazine.

“The distance to the nearest hospital or clinic is very far, and the medical aid reaching women is minimal,” said Anargul. “Pregnant women were suffering from severe shock, and I saw one who was bleeding with no one there to provide medical help.”
Our reporter, during more than eight hours on the ground, did not see a single female doctor or aid worker providing services to women. She observed only three individuals handing out some basic supplies. For the majority of women, there was no access to medical care or dedicated support.

In Vadir and neighboring Nurgal, collapsed mountain roads left villagers cut off from the city. Families were forced to walk for hours on treacherous paths to reach other villages.

Their words are reminders that behind every statistic in a disaster are women carrying the heaviest burdens. Yet Kunar itself, with its wild beauty and tall cornfields, now lies in dust and blood. Not only women, but men and children too have paid the price, their lives taken in an instant.

A woman weeps for loved ones lost in the earthquake, a reminder that behind every statistic are women carrying the heaviest burdens.

And now, when you look at Kunar, you cannot tell whether to marvel at its beauty or to grieve the sorrow that has settled upon it. This catastrophe has left scars that no number can measure, only stories whispered among the ruins.

Kunar, in eastern Afghanistan, is known for its wild, mountainous terrain. Though the quake shook other provinces, Kunar suffered the worst damage.