The cold is winning. Its victory is almost absolute—so absolute that it burns the bones and mocks the fierce heat of summer by weakening winter’s faint sun. In Kabul, the cold’s triumph is a triumph of hardship: hardship in eating, in sleeping, in staying warm, in staying full. Kabul’s winter is an “added sorrow” for the city’s hungry—people who, in this season, lose not only food but even the clothing needed to survive.
On the sides of the streets, one sees children sitting and begging. From the longing in their eyes as they look at passersby’s clothes, it’s clear they wish they owned such garments. Life for them is a constant shuttling between hope and suffering: desiring what others have, and being pained by their inability to reach it. The cold doubles their misery—their reddened cheeks, ears, and noses show they are not just hungry, but freezing. Their only comfort is sitting under the weak winter sunlight; their only source of warmth is that dying sun.
Winter in Kabul is a dark, icy shadow that swallows the sun’s light and warmth. For most people in the city, not only beggars but shopkeepers also struggle; their livelihoods fall to the ground like the leaves of the trees. Markets grow stagnant, and people count the bitter days, waiting for spring to wake everything from sleep and leave winter behind like a bad dream.
Kabul’s cold brings with it many ominous gifts; one of them is darkness. With the first sign of winter, the city’s electricity becomes half-functional. Even in summer, power is far from reliable, but in winter the outages last so long that summer’s blackouts seem minor in comparison. Nights fall into complete darkness, bringing losses for which no one compensates the people.
On top of this, Kabul’s winters make breathing itself difficult—dangerously so. Anything that can burn, does burn. As a result, the city’s air becomes so toxic that people flee the streets to hide in the relative safety of their homes. The burning of tires, non-fuel materials, and low-quality fuels fills the air with smoke, leaving the entire city gasping for breath.
And all of this is only part of what winter brings to Kabul: sickness, darkness, hunger, trembling—harsh realities that residents have grown accustomed to, no longer surprised by their persistence. A city that burns continually, and in a bitter irony, burns even more under the weight of the cold.
