Crisis, community and coping in a northern village

A visit to Sharshat village in southern Balkh province demonstrates the range of coping mechanisms that people have resorted to in order to survive the effects of a two-year drought in northern Afghanistan. Nestled in an upland valley surrounded by glistening snow-covered peaks, Sharshat, in the mountainous Charkent region, is a tortuous four-hour drive from the provincial capital of Balkh, Mazar-e-Sharif. As a district centre, Sharshat boasts a governor’s office, a small bazaar, a WFP office and a health clinic run by the health NGO Medecins sans frontieres (MSF). As an area entirely dependent on rain-fed agriculture and herds of sheep and goats, it has been badly affected by drought. The Governor of Charkent, Ilari Mohamed Islama Jahad, told IRIN that no seeds had grown last season as a result of drought, but that people were trying to plant what seeds they could find from outside of the district. Jahad said that the wealthiest person in the village was barely able to cover the needs of his immediate family, so the tax collected this year had been redistributed to villagers. Charkent had seen the displacement of families for the last 10 years “but many people have left recently because of the drought,” according to Jahad. “Those who left were all labourers and they are in Mazar city renting rooms or houses,” he said. In the last eight months, 20 villages had been abandoned, with entire families leaving for nearby villages or Mazar. The village of Yakatol, neighbouring Sharshat, has reportedly seen 120 families - or two-thirds of its population - leave in recent months. Villagers said that many of those who left trusted neighbours to look after their homes; others had opted to sell or lease their land, in order to raise capital before leaving. Land was currently being sold at half the normal price, according to villagers. Mohamed Taki, a farmer, said he had borrowed money and bought food on credit from a local shopkeeper for the past two years. He had been forced to sell some of his land to pay off the debt, so he had less to cultivate this year. Taki said that only five people who did not have land had stayed in the village. The “wealthy labourers” had left, looking for better conditions elsewhere, he said. Taki had relatives who left for Mazar when they heard that WFP bakery cards were available which would enable them to receive fresh bread daily. Such movement is precisely what aid agencies are trying to avoid: they are channelling their limited resources into support for rural activities, in the hope that it keeps people on their land to produce a harvest this season. Village farmers were cautious about the approaching harvest. “This snow means nothing if there is no rain three months from now. We need rain then for the crops to grow,” said one, waving an arm at the surrounding peaks. Furthermore, the acute lack of seeds last season has meant that farmers can only cultivate parts of their land. Taki said that the local miller was only working one in 20 days at the moment because there was not enough grain to warrant more. “Only the richest families in the village can afford to seed their fields, and even then only a few fields. The rest they leave fallow,” he said. WFP has provided wheat to the area through targeted food-for-work projects. This has been used to improve sections of the road to Mazar, which has reportedly reduced the cost of food in the local bazaar. But it is really seeds that people are asking for to help them grow crops and build up a food reserve. Relief agencies tackling the rural exodus are now trying to bring in seeds to encourage families to return and begin cropping. According to Charkent governor Ilari Mohamed Islama Jahad, over 100 families returned to prepare their land when the Swedish Committee announced it would distribute seeds in the district. No families had died in Sharshat from a lack of food, according to the villagers, but local men said they knew of families dying of starvation in remote villages nearby. Recent months had seen an influx into the village of people who were now begging, they said. Despite the current crisis, this is a village trying to sustain normality. Nearly all those remaining had land and hoped to have something of a harvest. Three young girls with schoolbags confirmed that some parents were determined to persist with basic education for their children. People in Sharshat appeared to be in surprisingly good humour, particularly compared to internally-displaced families and the residents of some other villages in the region. When asked if he was among the richer men of the village, Mirabas, the miller, shook his head, saying he owned no land. Fellow villagers quickly corrected him, claiming he had been charging them a fortune to grind flour. “But all I have is this mill - and God,” he said, smiling as he spoke.