Muzghan was born and brought up in the Panjshir Valley. She works in neonatal intensive care at our Maternity Centre in Anabah.
Two people who can’t be photographed. Two boys’ faces that out of respect, or rather out of decency, can never be immortalised. But also out of guilt, out of impotence in the face of the most unimaginable cruelty.
Hamidullah is four years old. He was playing near his house when a spray of bullets struck him in the head. He lost his arm, and in all probability, he will lose his left eye too. His face is covered in wounds. Through his right eye he’s watching the nurse trying to get him to eat.
The second boy is around six. He was in a car with his parents when a rocket aimed at a checkpoint a little way ahead of them hit them. His mother and father died in the blast.
The boy was left with burns and wounds classified as minor all over his body. The doctors say he’ll recover. Terrified and understanding nothing, he’s watching the nurse as she tries to get a word out of him, even just his name.
He just wants to know where his parents are.
Two faces, two stories, two among the many lying in the beds at our hospital for war victims in Lashkar-Gah, in Afghanistan.
Two faces, two stories, two among the many that bear the scars of the inherent wrong of this senseless war.
But then, has there ever been a war that wasn’t senseless? Ask Hamidullah, or the other boy.
I’m certain the answer is no. And I believe there are a lot of us who think that way.
#InsightfromtheField by Daniele, EMERGENCY Logistician