In the northern provinces of Samangan and Balkh, a 6.3-magnitude tremor claimed at least 27 lives
Residents of Kunar province confront freezing temperatures without adequate shelter or warm clothing after a series of destructive earthquakes
In the Shadow of Ruins: Afghan Quake Survivors Battle Rain, Grief, and the Bitter Cold
The survivors of Afghanistan’s powerful earthquakes now find themselves caught between loss and despair, seeking refuge under darkening skies. Their homes lie in ruins, their hearts heavy with grief, and the biting chill of winter draws near — far too soon for those who have already lost everything.
In the northern provinces of Samangan and Balkh, a 6.3-magnitude tremor claimed at least 27 lives, according to Taliban officials. But for many, the numbers are only echoes of a deeper tragedy. In Khulm district, where the quake struck hardest, Gulabuddin mourns the loss of his daughter-in-law, who could not escape their collapsing home in time. He himself bears a head wound from the falling debris.
“We lost everything,” he told AFP softly. “Winter is coming. We have small children — four and five years old. Where can we go? For two nights now, we have been staying with relatives.”
The rain, relentless and cold, has turned dirt paths into streams of mud, flowing through what remains of walls and rooftops. The sight is hauntingly familiar — just two months ago, eastern Afghanistan was struck by another, even deadlier quake that killed more than 2,200 people, leaving behind mountains of rubble and silent villages.
In Kunar province’s remote Mazar Dara village, Bazarga Safay, a 50-year-old farmer, remembers seeing children swept away by the first quake. She lost two relatives then — and now, with winter approaching, she fears that the cold will claim even more lives.
“We were given a tent,” she said, her voice trembling. “But it’s not suitable for winter. Fifteen of us, including twelve children, share it. How can we keep them warm?”
Across the quake-hit regions, families sleep outdoors, huddled together in gardens or on rooftops, terrified of the aftershocks that still rattle their broken homes. Temperatures are expected to plunge to –20°C, and many lack even basic blankets or warm clothes.
“When the quake hit, it was summer,” explained Najibullah Hanafi, a Taliban official in Kunar. “Aid agencies provided what was needed then. But now, as winter comes, they need clothes — and hope.”
That hope is fading fast. International aid groups warn that help will be scarce this winter, with global donors — led by the United States — cutting off funds. Camps have sprung up at the foot of Mazar Dara mountain, but the International Organization for Migration says 77% of survivors plan to stay put, unable to move elsewhere.
For some, rebuilding is the only way forward, even amid ruins. Taliban officials claim new houses are being built, but witnesses have seen little progress — just a single bulldozer clearing the debris.
“We want to rebuild our homes,” said Sayid Wali Safay, a 27-year-old farmer. “But this time, we’ll use concrete and bricks. We can’t bear to see them fall again.”
“We’ll build in the same place,” added Awal Jan, looking toward the rubble that once was home. “But not in the same way. This time, we must build for survival.”
And as the cold wind sweeps through the shattered villages of Afghanistan, it carries with it both sorrow and resolve — the quiet strength of a people who have lost everything, yet still dream of shelter, warmth, and peace.
