Afghanistan Peace CampaignEvery morning, hundreds of men gather on street corners across Kabul, hoping to find a day’s work. For these day labourers, each morning brings a new gamble: will they earn enough to feed their families or go home empty-handed? Even those who manage to find work struggle to make ends meet, with their meagre earnings falling short of the rising cost of living. In this instalment of the Daily Hustle, AAN’s Hamid Pakteen hears from Farhad, a 45-year-old former policeman from Samangan who came to Kabul in search of work. Four months on, he is still struggling to find regular employment and support his family of ten. His account offers a revealing look at the day-to-day uncertainty of the life of a day labourer and the consequences for families who depend on their precarious earnings.
Every morning, after prayers, I walk half an hour to Kabul’s Sarak-e Naw-e Kart-e Naw, where I wait for someone to come looking for workers. This is one of the many places in the city where people come if they need someone to do manual work. Usually about 100 people turn up at the corner, from ten-year-old boys to men in their sixties. Some are from Kabul and others, like me, have come from the provinces because we couldn’t find work at home.
We sit around in little groups, chatting and passing the time. Some men bring tea in a thermos and share it with others. People wander from one group to another to catch up on what’s been happening. Some of us have been coming here for a long time, so we know each other pretty well. We talk about all sorts of things. We ask after each other’s families – a mother who was in hospital last week or a son who’s been in Iran for the past year. But we always keep one eye on the road, watching out for that car or truck that might stop to pick up workers.
When a car does stop, everyone gathers around it, hoping that this time he’ll be the one who gets picked out. People call out to the driver and push each other out of the way. One man says, “I’ll go,” and another says, “It’s my turn.” Sometimes, fights break out and things can turn violent. In the end, the driver picks one or two workers and the rest of us go back to the corner to wait for another car and another chance to be picked.
If you’re lucky, you get work two or three days in a week, but sometimes seven or eight days can go by without any work coming your way. I myself haven’t found any work for the past seven days. People usually come to find workers early in the morning and with each passing hour the chance of finding work fades, but we keep waiting and hoping. After it gets dark and it’s obvious that no one’s coming, people start leaving one by one. But, like all the other men on the corner, I come back the next morning hoping that this day my luck will turn and someone will choose me.
How I ended up here
My name is Farhad. I’m 45 years old and I’m from Aybak in Samangan province. I finished high school and worked as a policeman during the Republic. I never imagined I’d end up on the streets of Kabul looking for a day’s work, but when the Republic fell, I lost my job. There are ten of us in the family: my parents, my wife, our six children and me. I’ve got two sons, aged 7 and 10, and four daughters, aged 2, 4, 13 and 15. My sons go to school, but my older daughters don’t. I’m the only one earning money, so the whole family depends on me.
After I lost my job with the police, I found work in a coal mine in Samangan. The pay wasn’t great and the work was hard and dangerous, but I needed the money and there wasn’t much other work around. Then the two men who owned the mine had a falling-out and decided to cut back on the number of workers. I was one of the people who lost their jobs. I tried to find something else in Samangan, but there was nothing. In the end, I decided to come to Kabul, hoping I’d have a better chance of finding work. I’ve been here for four months now, but I still haven’t managed to find steady work. So every morning, I go to the labour corner and take whatever work I can get.
A day’s work, if you’re lucky
These days, there are way too many men looking for work and not enough people wanting to hire us. There are even men with university degrees who can’t find jobs, so they’ve ended up at the labour corner looking for a day’s work, just like the rest of us.
People come looking for workers to do all sorts of things. Sometimes, they just need someone for a day to carry things, move furniture, load or unload goods, dig the garden or do odd jobs around a house or office. Other times, they need a few men for a construction site. Those are the best jobs because, if you’re lucky, you might get several days’ work out of them. But jobs like that are getting harder and harder to find. People don’t have much money these days, so fewer of them come looking for workers. Someone who might’ve hired several men in the past now takes only one or two. Once someone picks you, you discuss what needs doing and how much he’ll pay. We all know roughly what the going rate is, so there’s not much room to negotiate. You might try to get a little more, but when there are so many men waiting to take your place, you can’t really afford to turn down what’s being offered.
When I do get picked, I usually earn between 300 and 400 afghanis (USD 4 to 5.50) for the day. That’s not much, but I’d be happy to earn even 300 afghanis every day. At least then I’d know how much money I had coming in and could make some sort of plan. But I might get work one day and then spend the next several days waiting around, only to go home empty-handed. How can you plan anything when you don’t even know if you’ll earn something tomorrow? The work itself is hard manual labour. Usually, whoever hires you provides transport and food and you get paid at the end of the day. That makes a huge difference because, at least on the days I work, I don’t have to spend money on food. Sometimes, if I’m working in someone’s house, they even give me leftovers to take home.
Living in Kabul
I share a room with five other men I met at the labour corner when I first arrived in Kabul. We’re all looking for work. The rent is 2,500 afghanis a month (USD 33), so my share is a little over 400 afghanis (USD 5.50). It isn’t a good room. There’s no kitchen and no proper bathroom, but we can’t afford anything better. We sleep on the floor and split the expenses between us. I’m very careful with my spending because every afghani I spend here is an afghani I can’t send home.
Whatever we have, we share and we take turns cooking on a Primus stove in the hallway. Most of the time we eat potatoes and rice. Sometimes we make qabuli palaw (rice, raisins and carrots). We rarely eat meat, but if we have a little money to spare and the butcher has some scraps he’s selling cheaply, we might buy some. If one of us comes home from a job with leftover food, we share that too. If one of us hasn’t worked and can’t pay his share of something, the others chip in to cover it. Most nights, we’re too tired to do much. We come back, eat something, say our prayers and sleep. Sometimes, if we know there probably won’t be work the next day, like at Eid, we stay up later and talk. But even at Eid, a few men go to the labour corner before or after prayers, just in case someone comes looking for workers. Usually nobody does, but they go anyway because they’re desperate for money.
Finding money to send home
Friday is usually the day when we rest. I wash my clothes, help clean the room, relax a little and call my family. I miss my children and it’s a treat to hear their voices. Sometimes one of my sons calls and asks me to send money, but on those days when I don’t even have a single afghani in my pocket, I don’t know what to tell him. Normally, I look forward to hearing from my family, but when I haven’t found work, I sometimes dread those calls. I’m afraid they’ll need something I can’t provide.
They’re waiting for me to send money and I’m here in Kabul waiting for someone to give me work. When I can’t send anything, they have to borrow from friends or relatives to get by. Sometimes I have to borrow from my friends here in Kabul too, just to cover my own expenses. Then there’s the question of how we’re going to pay back what we owe.
On the days I do find work, I have to decide whether to keep some of the money to pay my rent and buy food, or send it home to my family. If I send it all home, I might not have enough for myself. But if I keep it, my family might not have enough to eat. In the end, I know that I have to send the money I have to my family, even if it means going without myself. I try to spend as little as possible on myself so I can send more money home. And I just pray nobody gets sick because we don’t have any money put aside for an emergency.
Any day I find work feels like Eid to me. At least I know I’ve earned something and my family can buy bread and whatever else they need. But even when I work, the money doesn’t go very far. If I were to work six days a week and earn 400 afghanis a day, I’d make around 10,400 afghanis (USD 139) a month. But that almost never happens. Sometimes the wage is only 300 afghanis and there are plenty of days when I don’t find work at all. By the time I’ve paid my expenses in Kabul and sent money home, there’s nothing left to save.
Winter is coming
When I came to Kabul four months ago, I’d hoped I’d find enough work to cover my expenses, send money home and put something aside for winter. But I’ve barely managed to get by and now winter is coming. My children need warm clothes. We need food for the winter and wood or coal to heat the house. These are all things my family needs, but I don’t have enough money for everything. I don’t even know what I should buy first. Do I buy clothes for the children? Do I buy food? Or do I buy fuel to keep the house warm?
Fewer people come looking for labourers in winter and work becomes even harder to find. I’ll stay in Kabul for as long as I can and keep trying to find work, but eventually I’ll have to go back to Samangan. I can’t keep paying to live here if I’m not earning anything. I’m worried about going home empty-handed, because my children will be expecting me to bring them something from Kabul. They don’t know what my life here’s been like, how many hours I’ve spent sitting on the street waiting for work or how hard it’s been to earn even a little money. I want to take them some presents and I’d feel ashamed that after being away for so long I may not be able to bring home even enough to get us through the winter.
When I go back to Samangan, I’ll look for work there again. Of course, I’d rather find something close to home. Nobody wants to spend months away from their family, living in a room with five other men and sleeping on the floor. But I’m not very hopeful. There wasn’t any work when I left and I don’t think things have improved. If I can’t find anything, I’ll have no choice but to come back here.
For now, I have to keep trying to earn while the weather holds. Tomorrow morning, after prayers, I’ll go back to the labour corner and sit waiting with the other men. Maybe somebody will have brought tea and we’ll share it. We’ll talk about our families and whatever else there is to talk about. And all the while, we’ll watch the road. Maybe a car will stop. Maybe a truck will pull up. Maybe someone will come looking for workers. Maybe I’ll be chosen. Or maybe I’ll spend another day waiting with nothing to show for it.
Edited by Roxanna Shapour and Kate Clark