Those still at the camp struggle to fill their time, resting in the middle of the day to avoid the desert heat and roaming streets that are named after U.S. states to help them learn about what was supposed to be their new home. Schooling is limited, especially for older students.
Twice in the past year, Iranian strikes have hit nearby in Qatar — once last June in retaliation for U.S. strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities, and again during the U.S.-Israeli war with Iran that began Feb. 28.
The camp offers poor protection against the strikes, said VanDiver, whose group received multiple recordings from “terrified” residents of missiles being intercepted over their heads.
The arrival of Afghan allies to the U.S. had already slowed to a crawl as the Trump administration reshapes the U.S. immigration system. But their hopes were further dashed in November when a shooting in Washington killed one National Guard member and seriously injured another.
The suspect, identified as Rahmanullah Lakanwal, 29, is an Afghan national who served alongside U.S. troops as part of an elite CIA-backed unit in Afghanistan. Lakanwal, who pleaded not guilty to nine federal charges last month, was granted asylum by the Trump administration last year after arriving in the U.S. during the Biden administration.
The Trump administration imposed harsher restrictions for Afghans after the attack, halting asylum decisions, suspending visa issuance for all Afghan nationals and moving to detain refugees already in the country.
Afghans at Camp As Sayliyah condemned the attack, but say it was the act of one individual.
“We want to ask the American government not to link the crime of a single Afghan to all Afghans,” said a woman surnamed Salimi, a lawyer who has been at the camp with her husband and two sons, ages 2 and 4, for more than a year.
Salimi, who asked to be identified only by her last name because of security concerns, was approved for U.S. resettlement because her legal work put her at risk of persecution by the Taliban.
She had her own legal office, mostly representing women “who were poor, who were physically abused, who were pursuing divorce.”
Many of her clients’ husbands were members of the Taliban, some of whom were imprisoned for physical abuse or other crimes, she said.
The night the Taliban returned to power, Salimi said, she got a call from an unknown number.
“You separated my wife from me and now she’s married to another man and has another life,” said the man on the other end of the line. “You have to pay the price.”
Soon, Salimi heard the Taliban was looking for her. Her office was closed, as she focused on keeping a low profile and finding a way out.
She was eventually able to apply for a U.S. visa, a process she said took seven or eight months, including security checks.
As she flew to Qatar in January 2025, Salimi believed her family’s future in the U.S. was finally secure, but Trump’s return to the White House just two weeks later upended their plans, with refugee resettlement halted and Afghan nationals later barred from entering the U.S.
“Facing an uncertain future makes our mind and spirit get worse day by day,” Salimi said. “What’s going to happen to our future? What are they going to do with us?”
Women in particular have suffered under the Taliban, who have barred them from school beyond the sixth grade, banned their voices and bare faces in public and suspended laws against rape and child and forced marriage.
Breaking a promise
The U.S. government’s about-face on Afghan allies and their families has pained veterans such as retired Army Lt. Col. Mariah Smith, who served three tours in Afghanistan.
Translators such as Mohammad “were absolutely vital to success,” Smith said, making them “a primary target” of the Taliban.
“There was this expectation and promise, like, if you help us, this is a way for you to be able to come to America,” said Smith, who is vice chair of No One Left Behind, a nonprofit based in Arlington, Virginia, that advocates for Afghan and Iraqi allies.
“That’s why I think it was so heartbreaking for so many veterans when we pulled out of Afghanistan,” she said, “because so many of us felt like we were complicit in breaking that promise.”
The treatment of Afghan allies could make people in other conflict zones “less willing to work with us,” she added.
Mohammad, who grew up in Kabul, signed up as a combat interpreter for the U.S. military in 2009. That year, he was seriously wounded in Helmand province when an improvised explosive device detonated, killing the U.S. Marine right in front of him.
After recovering, he was sent to Kabul to do noncombat translation work. But every day, he said, “the task of just going from your home to the office was just, you know, life and death.”
The risk was worth it, he said, “because of the value that we saw in the international community being in Afghanistan,” such as his sisters being able to go to school.
In 2014, he received what’s known as a “special immigrant visa” and moved to Texas. He enlisted in the U.S. Army almost immediately as a way to give back to the country that had changed his life.
After finishing his service in 2016, Mohammad — now a U.S. citizen — worked as a Defense Department contractor in Afghanistan, right up until the withdrawal.
“It just happened out of the blue, and it was super chaotic,” said Mohammad, who was in Kabul at the time. “I barely managed to get to the airport, get on the plane, and get out.”
With the Taliban now back in power, those with ties to the U.S. military and their relatives were targets. Mohammad’s family spent the next three years in hiding, his parents moving from place to place with four daughters and two sons.
“We couldn’t all be together in one place,” said his father, a history teacher also named Mohammad who also asked not to be fully identified for safety reasons. “The Taliban intelligence services were constantly after us.”
The family was evacuated to Qatar in 2024 after the younger Mohammad learned of a program to help Afghan relatives of U.S. service members. “That was a big sigh of relief for me,” he said.
When Trump returned to office, the family had been fully processed and was just waiting for their U.S. visas and plane tickets. “Now we don’t know our fate,” the older Mohammad said.
Several months ago, he said, people working at the camp started saying, “Why don’t you go back to Afghanistan? The country is calm and free now.” He said a State Department representative has since offered money for those willing to go back.
Returning would mean certain death, Mohammad and his family say. His sister Faezeh, 29, is trying to stay optimistic, and says she hopes that “in the near future Trump changes his mind.”
“Sometimes we think they’re going to send us back by force. It’s a very difficult worry,” she added. “Especially for those of us that have nothing to go back to.”
Afghanistan Peace Campaign
