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| Faiza, 9, says: “When I’m hungry, it feels hard in my stomach. I want to cry, and I wonder why my mother doesn’t give me more food.” Faiza is in grade two at a CARE community school in Kapisa province. (2008 Melanie Brooks/CARE) |
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PANJSHIR, Afghanistan (April 18, 2008) - "When I'm hungry, it feels hard in my stomach. I want to cry, and I wonder why my mother doesn't give me more food."
The simple words of an Afghan child explain the pangs of hunger being felt across Asia, as high food prices strip the world's poorest of enough to eat. Across the continent, families are cutting back on meals, children are being pulled from school to go to work, and the number of beggars on the streets of major cities from Kabul to Jakarta is climbing day by day. Here in the Panjshir valley in rural Afghanistan, farmers are struggling to cope with the double hit of high food prices and a devastating flood that destroyed the village's crops last year, leaving debris and boulders the size of small cars embedded in farmers' fields. Without a harvest, these families have nothing. CARE's emergency response program provided tools, seeds and training to help the farmers clear their fields and plant again, and cash-for-work to give them enough money to buy food until the next harvest. But that was last year's plan; after the cost of wheat flour in Afghanistan tripled this year, even emergency assistance isn't enough. | Haji Nasurullah, 75, a farmer from Bakhsh-e-Khail village in Panshir, Afghanistan. Nasurullah lost his crops when the worst flood in 130 years swept through his village last year. In addition to tending his own fields, he is working as a day laborer to earn extra money to buy food for his family. (2008 Melanie Brooks/CARE) |
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An elderly man breaking rocks in a field stops to take a break, and pulls from his pocket a handful of pale brown blocks the color and texture of dirty chalk. Dried mulberry paste is traditionally eaten here as an energy food or supplement during hard times, but this is what Haji Nasurullah's family is eating through much of the day now. "We are eating less. We don't eat meat anymore," said Nasurullah, 75, with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "I borrowed money from the shopkeeper so I can buy food. God willing, I will find more work in other people's fields. I hope that I will have a good crop this year." Strong and proud, the farmers of this small community do not complain, and their generosity in the face of the worst food crisis in the community's memory is heartbreaking. Habib Ullah, 77, invites visitors to his home, and within minutes, two bowls of yogurt and several pieces of Afghan flatbread are laid out on the table as welcome. This is all his family of 10 has to eat for the day. | Din Mohamed, 66, head of village for Bakhsh-e-Khail village in Panshir, Afghanistan. Din Mohamed shows a seed that is germinating from one of his fields. A good harvest from this year's crop is his community's only hope for the future. (2008 Melanie Brooks/CARE) |
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It is still early in the crisis, and the impact is only starting to emerge. But the lasting long-term damage to people's ability to provide for themselves and their children will be devastating if help doesn't come soon. More than 6.5 million Afghans – more than the entire population of Washington state – don't have enough to eat. During normal times, Afghans barely get by: any money they make goes to food, basic household items, and school supplies for their children. If the cost of one thing goes up, something has to give. Families cut back on food, which deprives children of crucial nutrition at a time when their bodies need it most. There isn't enough money for luxuries like school supplies, so children stop going to school. Since the food crisis hit, families in urban areas are spending more than 75 per cent of their income on food. "People are selling livestock and land to get enough money to buy food," said Abdul Azin, project supervisor of the Flood Rehabilitation and Assistance Project in Panjshir. "This affects their long-term security. If they sell their livestock, they will have money to eat today, but what about next year?" In Panjshir, CARE's emergency program is focused on long-term solutions to food security, teaching the farmers how to use more productive seeds, and natural pesticides and fertilizer to increase their crop yield and protect their crops from infestation. But this year's harvest won't come for another three months. Until then, the people of Panjshir valley will continue to eat the dried mulberries, and pray. "We pray that our crops are good, that the floods don't come again, and that the prices of food go down. They must go down, Inshallah (God willing)," said Nasurullah. "We cannot eat dried berries forever."
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