By ADAM B. ELLICK
Published: December 2, 2008
CHAMTALA SETTLEMENT, Afghanistan — Only seven months ago, Allah Nazar, a 10-year-old paralyzed by polio, had a two-bedroom mud home and weekly appointments at a hospital in Pakistan, where he lived with his family of 13.
Now Nazar is homeless, living in the eastern Afghan desert 15 miles from Jalalabad, the provincial capital, sitting aimlessly in a wooden wheelbarrow, wondering if the imminent winter will be his last. Even his makeshift wheelchair is too wobbly for a simple joy ride along the rocky terrain.
“His condition is getting worse because of the cold weather and the lack of facilities and treatment,” said Abdul Wahab, a village elder and close friend of the boy’s family. “Are there any human rights here?”
An Afghan presidential decree guarantees refugees a “safe and dignified return.” But seven years into Afghanistan’s reconstruction effort, this is the reality playing out in and around Nangarhar Province. Here, 30,000 newly returned Afghans live on the brink of desperation in makeshift settlements like Chamtala.
Meanwhile, the government and international aid groups lack the capacity to shield them properly from the harsh Afghan winter that is swirling their way.
“Look at all these children,” said Nazar’s mother, Khwaga, cradling her newborn daughter. “They’re all suffering from flu. We don’t have a roof over our heads. We are tired of this hunger.”
Nazar and his family, who returned to Afghanistan in May, are among 3.5 million Afghans who have been repatriated from Pakistan since the Taliban were ousted in 2001, one of the largest refugee movements in recent history, according to the United Nations.
The flow of returnees has slowed since 2006. But here in the eastern part of the country, which has absorbed more than 60 percent of this year’s nearly 300,000 returnees, the situation is dire.
In a clear sign that life is untenable for many new arrivals, 40 percent of Afghan returnees left the nation again in 2007, citing insecurity and a lack of shelter and jobs, according to the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission.
The government of Afghanistan, where the population has surged by 20 percent since 2001, is already strained by deteriorating security, a national food crisis and a lack of basic services like electricity, even in urban centers like Kabul.
“This is indeed one of the worst we can find,” said António Guterres, the United Nations high commissioner for refugees, who visited two camps in eastern Afghanistan in November. “These are the poorest of the poor, the most vulnerable of the vulnerable.”
Since the late 1970s, when the Soviet Union invaded, millions of Afghans have fled because of war. New generations of Afghans were born and married abroad, mainly in neighboring Pakistan and Iran, having never known their ancestral homeland.
In Pakistan, they lived in poor but industrious refugee settlements. Men held down manual-labor jobs, and most Afghans had homes, however spartan. Pakistan played host for decades. Although it still maintains dozens of camps, Pakistan closed two large camps in North-West Frontier Province near the Afghan border during the past 18 months, saying they had become sanctuaries for militant groups like Al Qaeda and the Taliban.
The nation’s largest camp, Jalozai, was closed in May, forcing 110,000 Afghans to choose between two bleak options: relocate within Pakistan or return home.
With Pakistan suffering from a food and fuel crisis, and with rent prices soaring in nearby cities like Peshawar, the answer was easy enough for 70 percent of them.
Nazar, the boy with polio, watched as bulldozers razed his school and house. Then, with $100 stipends given to his and the other families by the United Nations refugee office, Nazar and his relatives boarded a truck and three days later found themselves at this makeshift settlement.
“The Pakistan government forced us to leave,” said Mr. Wahab, the village elder.
And the Afghan government “has been stringing us along” with failed promises, he said.
International aid organizations, like the United Nations refugee office, Unicef and the World Food Program, have provided minimal services, like daily water tankers and plastic sheets for shelter. But the refugee office has already depleted its regional housing materials this year.
At an international refugee conference in Kabul in November, the Afghan Ministry of Refugees and Repatriation requested $528 million from donor countries to support reintegration. If granted, the money will come from the $22 billion Afghanistan National Development Strategy fund that begins in the spring of 2009.
Along the sidelines, refugee experts voiced frustration with the annual scramble by governments to offer assistance “as if winter comes by surprise,” as one refugee expert said.
With four ministers since 2001, the Afghan Refugee Ministry has hardly won the trust of international observers. Experts say it lacks the resources to put in place a crisis management plan. In the past year, two Afghan ministers were dismissed for the mishandling of refugee situations.
Mr. Guterres, the United Nations refugee official, said that inefficiency and corruption were partly to blame. In 2005, the government announced 100 locations to be given to returnees as part of its Land Allocation Scheme. Today, 15 are in operation.
Chamtala is an example of such chaos. In June, the provincial government demarcated the camp for land allocation, but to date, only 600 of its 4,000 families have been granted plots.
During his visit, Mr. Guterres listened as layers of village elders surrounded him pleading for intervention. They said that even refugees fortunate enough for selection could not afford the $120 fee imposed by the government.
“We would prefer a more generous policy, but we also have to recognize the limited resources of the country,” Mr. Guterres said.
In most of the world, refugees in such desperate circumstances flock to urban slums, where job opportunities are more numerous, he said. But Afghans, who adhere to a strict brand of Islam, prefer secluded, walled-off homes that keep women out of public view.
Land is a delicate issue in decentralized Afghanistan. Tribes often maintain ownership of fertile land, especially amid the current drought.
At Chamtala, jobs are hard to find, and elders say the daily mobile health clinic is insufficient.
“There are 6,000 families here,” a village elder told Mr. Guterres. “If even one of us has an emergency, what should we do?”
If there is any hope for Chamtala, it may be in the example of Sheik Mesri New Township, a mud-walled refugee complex 40 minutes away where nearly all of the 6,000 plots have been granted to refugees who began settling there in late 2005.
International aid organizations built 80 water wells and provided materials and a labor stipend for refugees who built their own homes.
In a sign of progress, when village elders here had a chance to talk to Mr. Guterres, they brought up less-pressing issues, like electricity and garbage removal.
But it took three years to erect the community, and experts are not sure it can be replicated before more desperate returnees give up and leave again.
Chamtala is an example of such chaos. In June, the provincial government demarcated the camp for land allocation, but to date, only 600 of its 4,000 families have been granted plots.
During his visit, Mr. Guterres listened as layers of village elders surrounded him pleading for intervention. They said that even refugees fortunate enough for selection could not afford the $120 fee imposed by the government.
“We would prefer a more generous policy, but we also have to recognize the limited resources of the country,” Mr. Guterres said.
In most of the world, refugees in such desperate circumstances flock to urban slums, where job opportunities are more numerous, he said. But Afghans, who adhere to a strict brand of Islam, prefer secluded, walled-off homes that keep women out of public view.
Land is a delicate issue in decentralized Afghanistan. Tribes often maintain ownership of fertile land, especially amid the current drought.
At Chamtala, jobs are hard to find, and elders say the daily mobile health clinic is insufficient.
“There are 6,000 families here,” a village elder told Mr. Guterres. “If even one of us has an emergency, what should we do?”
If there is any hope for Chamtala, it may be in the example of Sheik Mesri New Township, a mud-walled refugee complex 40 minutes away where nearly all of the 6,000 plots have been granted to refugees who began settling there in late 2005.
International aid organizations built 80 water wells and provided materials and a labor stipend for refugees who built their own homes.
In a sign of progress, when village elders here had a chance to talk to Mr. Guterres, they brought up less-pressing issues, like electricity and garbage removal.
But it took three years to erect the community, and experts are not sure it can be replicated before more desperate returnees give up and leave again.
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