Afghanistan’s Rural Collapse—At a Glance
This gallery is a brief selection from a much larger body of work. The remaining images and full narrative are reserved for my forthcoming book. For commissioning or licensing enquiries, please contact me directly.
Once‑green mountains outside Jalalabad now stand bald and brittle. Plastic pipes dribble what little water remains down to villages where streams have shrunk to thin veins, wiping out the medicinal plants and pasture that sustained local life. Travelling with FAO, I found Taliban escorts as stunned as the elders: climate change has turned once‑lush slopes into dust.
Across three provinces the pattern repeats. Wetlands in Sheendan Walibik are cracked earth; droughts that villagers say began only in the past 10–30 years now starve livestock and hollow out settlements. In Gula Ram the poppy ban—meant to curb crippling addiction—has removed the last cash crop from isolated farmers, leaving them with a stark choice: stay and starve or flee empty‑handed.
The economic unravelling is ruthless. A Jalalabad dairy cooperative that once sold 7,000 litres a day to government and NGOs now manages barely 2,000 after contracts and electricity vanished. Over 1,500 member families—113 of them women‑headed—are selling off their cows to fund perilous journeys abroad, often returning with no money and no livestock left.
Deforestation in Elyaskhail has stripped hillsides, driving wildlife away and swinging villages between flash floods and relentless drought. Afghanistan’s countryside is being crushed by a three‑way vise—climate disaster, political isolation, and economic free‑fall—each blow compounding the next, leaving communities fighting an unforgiving, cumulative collapse.
This gallery is a brief selection from a much larger body of work. The remaining images and full narrative are reserved for my forthcoming book. For commissioning or licensing enquiries, please contact me directly.
Once‑green mountains outside Jalalabad now stand bald and brittle. Plastic pipes dribble what little water remains down to villages where streams have shrunk to thin veins, wiping out the medicinal plants and pasture that sustained local life. Travelling with FAO, I found Taliban escorts as stunned as the elders: climate change has turned once‑lush slopes into dust.
Across three provinces the pattern repeats. Wetlands in Sheendan Walibik are cracked earth; droughts that villagers say began only in the past 10–30 years now starve livestock and hollow out settlements. In Gula Ram the poppy ban—meant to curb crippling addiction—has removed the last cash crop from isolated farmers, leaving them with a stark choice: stay and starve or flee empty‑handed.
The economic unravelling is ruthless. A Jalalabad dairy cooperative that once sold 7,000 litres a day to government and NGOs now manages barely 2,000 after contracts and electricity vanished. Over 1,500 member families—113 of them women‑headed—are selling off their cows to fund perilous journeys abroad, often returning with no money and no livestock left.
Deforestation in Elyaskhail has stripped hillsides, driving wildlife away and swinging villages between flash floods and relentless drought. Afghanistan’s countryside is being crushed by a three‑way vise—climate disaster, political isolation, and economic free‑fall—each blow compounding the next, leaving communities fighting an unforgiving, cumulative collapse.
© Liz Loh-Taylor
