Hello my dear Ana Jani. I hope the weather in London is nice today and that your health has improved.
I have been sitting with my grandmother in Kabul, listening to stories about how she used to bring wood from the mountains, and about the winters when she was young. I wanted to tell you so I came to another room. As I am writing, there is smoke here too, like a shadow that follows wherever I go.
Early this morning, I went out for a walk. There were not as many women on the road as before and only a few could be seen here and there. It is not only because of the cold. Everything is dusty and grey and the polluted air is so bad that the surrounding mountains are not visible.
Almost everyone I see is sick and everyone complains. My mother scolds and tells me not to go out anymore. It seems I will have to spend this suffocating winter inside the house.
When I wake up, the first thing I see on my phone will be death announcements. It is the same from the loudspeakers of the mosque which broadcast notices almost every morning because our elderly people can no longer bear this bad air, the cold and the illnesses. Winter was my favourite season, but the problems are so many that I cannot enjoy this time of year at all.
Our people are poor and cannot afford heaters. In the past, fuel for fires was available and cheap but now our mountains and forests are empty. No wood comes to Kabul anymore. This year the price has reached the sky so families burn plastic or trash they have collected during the year. Before, people used to give away clothes that had became small to those who needed them. Now these things are kept for burning.
Food has become expensive too. The winter may not be very long on the calendar, but these months feel long and very difficult.
