By Tamana Taban
Every year for the past decade, Zohra* has spent weeks criss-crossing the mountains of central Afghanistan on foot, braving both searing summer heat and freezing winter temperatures, on a mission to combat a deadly viral disease eradicated in much of the world.
Her work as a volunteer administering polio vaccines to Afghan children in a rugged and remote part of the country has always been risky as well as physically tough. Mobile vaccination teams have been attacked and killed in the past.
Since the Taliban returned to power in 2021, it has become even more challenging because of their opposition both to women leaving their homes to work and to the door-to-door vaccination drives that experts say is the key to combatting polio.
Yet the 28-year-old university graduate remains determined to play her part in the campaign to protect Afghan children against the devastating but preventable disease, which mostly affects those under five and can cause permanent paralysis and even death.
“I believe every child has the right to be protected from this disease,” says Zohra. “This work brings me peace of mind and helps me feel that I’m fulfilling my responsibility to my community. Fulfilling this responsibility is a duty for everyone.”
Afghanistan is one of only three countries around the world that have yet to eradicate polio. Vaccination programs have been interrupted by decades of war and hampered by a longstanding suspicion that remains particularly strong in rural areas of the country. Last year, Afghanistan recorded 18 new cases, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), which supports the door-to-door national vaccination campaign.
In the nearly four years since returning to power, the Taliban have repeatedly obstructed the campaign, including by banning workers in some areas from going door-to-door, seen as the most effective way to ensure comprehensive vaccination and prevent further transmission.
Draconian restrictions on women working have also had an impact. Reports suggest there are no female vaccinators in areas where the Taliban exert the strongest influence.
During their previous period in power, which ended in 2001, the Taliban barred vaccinators from working in areas under their control. More than two decades on, misconceptions about the vaccine persist, particularly in the southern and eastern regions of Afghanistan, where some believe it is part of a foreign conspiracy to harm Muslim children.
In the mountainous province of Bamyan, where Zohra works, such suspicions are less prevalent, although she still sometimes has to convince parents that the vaccine is safe. Over the years, Zohra has persuaded many of her friends to join the effort, travelling from central Bamyan to nearby villages. Their hard work is paying off — Bamyan has not had a new case of polio in many years.
In the scorching summer heat, with sweat on her brow, Zohra continues her work, knocking on doors with a smile. Even in the bitter cold of winter, when her hands grow numb, her determination doesn’t waver.
“We have three to four rounds of the vaccination campaign each year, and during each round, I spend at least five days walking for hours, going from house to house,” she says.
“I endure the summer heat and the autumn chill to ensure no child in my area is left unvaccinated because this is a responsibility I’ve taken on,” she says.
Each campaign includes a one-day training session, followed by three main days of vaccination. The final day is dedicated to revisiting homes where children were absent during the first visits.
“In each round, we visit over 300 homes—about 100 homes a day – on foot,” Zohra says.
Zohra doesn’t want to talk about the impact of the Taliban’s return on her work, though she says she now has to adhere to their strict dress code for women. Three years ago, the Taliban issued a decree ordering women to cover their heads and faces, showing only their eyes, and recommending that they wear the burqa.
Asked about popular myths about the vaccine, which is administered orally, Zohra says some families in Bamyan still have misgivings. “Although they are now smaller in number, they still take a lot of convincing,” she says.
More recently, she says, mothers have been asking volunteers not to let the vaccine touch their child’s teeth. “They say it will turn their child’s teeth black. We have to patiently explain to them that the vaccine is safe and harmless,” she adds.
Zohra spent six years working in the field before her role was expanded. She now manages multiple vaccination teams and supervises the distribution of vaccines to at least 1,200 homes. As her responsibilities have grown, so have the challenges, especially with increasing opposition to vaccination and the changed political situation.
“There are still families who refuse the vaccine,” she explains. “One family even told our volunteer that the vaccine is ‘haram’ [forbidden] because it’s provided by infidels. After I spoke with the father and explained the benefits, he still refused. It got so serious that WHO doctors had to intervene and convince him.”
Despite the growing challenges, Zohra remains hopeful. She doesn’t know how long she will be able to continue her work under the current circumstances, but her goal is clear: the eradication of polio in Afghanistan.
“I’ve worked with the WHO for many years, and I understand the risks polio poses to the future of children,” she says.
“Children are the future of our land and we must all do what we can to secure their future. If they are healthy, our society’s future will be healthy too.”
Note*: Name has been changed for security reasons.
