Shadow and Mirage

The first patient registered in the KOR project in Herat, in the team I worked with, was a girl named Hafiza. She was a teenage girl, accompanied by two disabled brothers and parents addicted to heroin. They had been using drugs in various ways from childhood until that moment.

When I sat down to talk with this girl, she said she had been homeless for as long as she could remember. She also explained that she did not start using drugs by choice—her parents, instead of giving her painkillers, provided drugs, which over time turned her into a real consumer.

I had seen this girl in the customs area of Herat, pushing her brothers in a cart while begging to cover the cost of drugs. By bringing her to the office, having her examined by a female doctor, and providing specialized counseling, I was able to be part of the start of a mission to save her.

In the following months, we visited this family once a week. The office provided hygiene kits, and we monitored her health. The wounds on her hands and body, and her weak condition, reflected a long history of drug use, despite her being only 14 years old.

Another harsh reality was that she often had to sell her body to afford a dose of heroin. A girl whose youth and innocence were woven with addiction; a family forced to raise their daughter as a consumer like themselves; disabled brothers who were also drug users—children trapped in a dark fate.

Unfortunately, under the current situation in Afghanistan, with the Taliban in control, only drug users on the streets are collected. Thousands of patients remain trapped inside their homes, passing this legacy to the next generation. Beyond treatment and psychological care, the human aspect of this story is heart-wrenching—young girls forced into drug use and prostitution for survival. During my service, I encountered dozens of such teenage girls and children, and the disabled brothers lived a life full of pain and suffering.