Categories: Camera

Promises Written on the Ice, Left in the Sun

Kiana Hayeri has been living and working in Afghanistan for over eight years. Her photography focuses primarily on women and girls living in war conditions and in Islamic society. She is particularly concerned with capturing alternative images of people’s daily lives, documenting the impact of decades of conflicts, while also drawing attention to the stories, strength and dignity of the individual. Since August last year, when Western troops withdrew and the Taliban returned to power, the situation for women has worsened. After more than a year, it has long become apparent that numerous promises have been broken, human rights have been disregarded, and the conditions for women in particular are more devastating than ever. This makes pictures from the country all the more important. Despite the tougher circumstances, Hayeri wants to continue working as a photographer in support of women’s rights.

Could you briefly describe your LOBA series?
My work focuses on Afghan women; the same women who were put at the center of the war efforts to liberate them shortly after the Americans invaded Afghanistan. Today, many of these women feel that they have been abandoned and left behind. While I have covered the front lines and dramatic events of war, I have also tried to capture a different and alternative narrative for America’s longest war. The consequence of a single narrative is that it not only robs people of their dignity, but it impedes our ability to have equal compassion. Afghanistan is a place of extremes, the best and the worst of humanity live side by side. Fear and courage, despair and hope, life and death coexist.

Female inmates breakfast together in their rooms, during the month of Ramadan, with the food provided by the prison. Herat, May 26, 2019. After the fall of Afghanistan, the prison was taken over by the Taliban. Prisoners who have made it out, recently, have told human rights organisations about torturing. The safe haven has been transformed into a hell

A group of high school students walk a two-hour journey, everyday, through Fouladi Valley, to go to the closest school to their village. Bamian, September 3, 2019. The Taliban have now closed all secondary schools for girls, indefinitely

Since the lockdown started, Fakhria has been teaching yoga on live TV, once a week. Kabul, August 10, 2020. After Kabul was taken over by the Taliban, she first went underground; then fled to Pakistan with her family of six, where she now sits tight

The cast of a street theatre group break into tears after the last act, where Tayebba would have played a dead person. Kabul, June 30, 2021. In real life, she and other colleagues from Afghan Film had been killed in an explosion in June

Zohra (27), a survivor of an acid attack by her husband and her mother-in-law, sits in a room while nurses change the dressing on her face. She has lost an eye, but is otherwise expected to recover. Kabul, July 31, 2018

You were in Kabul last year also, and had to witness the return of the Taliban.
Yes, last summer we all watched in disbelief as 20 years of progress in freedom of expression, women’s rights and education were wiped away in 20 days, as the country rapidly fell into the hands of the Taliban. Today all those gains have been replaced with more restrictions, fear and uncertainty. Afghanistan is still a country with open wounds that is struggling to heal.

How did the title of the series come about?
The title was an expression that I picked up once from an Afghan therapist, while working on a story about the state of mental health amongst women in Afghanistan.

Which images did you choose for your LOBA series?
In this portfolio, you’ll find stories of women who found that murdering their husbands was their only way out of domestic violence, and who now, though in prison, have found peace. Stories of girls from some of the most remote regions who walk for hours, come rain or shine, to go to school. Stories of mothers mourning the loss of their teenage daughters who were brutally killed as they left their school in western Kabul. The story of a woman, whose four sons took different paths in life as they joined opposing sides of the conflict. She carries an open wound on her throat that doctors believe is caused by grief.

In the basement of an unfinished mosque, women mourn daughters and sisters killed in an attack. May 9, 2021. The powerful explosions, in the morning in front of a high school, killed at least 90 people, and injured a further 150. Many were teenage girls who were just coming out of class

Afghan girls patrol, during an ambush scenario, at Marshal Fahim Qasim Military Academy, north-west of Kabul. February 20, 2019. Since the Taliban took over Afghanistan, most women officers and soldiers were removed from service. Many have now gone underground

During class at a school in the village of Khandood in the Wakhan Corridor, a girl whispers in her classmate’s ear. Wakhan, December 1, 2020. In Afghanistan, a largely traditional and conservative society, girls and boys are strictly separated, when they reach puberty

Girl students, some of whom have to walk for up to two hours through the snow to reach their school, take their final exam at Sarhad village, deep inside the Wakhan Corridor in the north-west of Afghanistan. December 1, 2020

An IED was planted in a ditch and exploded a few minutes after the first main explosion, to target those running away from the scene. The house directly opposite the second explosion is only a short distance from the entrance to a school. Kabul, May 8, 2021

How have you experienced the last few years in Afghanistan?
That’s a very difficult question to answer; because I think those of us who live there had a different experience year after year. Our day-to-day life in 2014 was different from 2016, different from 2019, 2021 and today.

How has your work changed? What is no longer possible today?
Geographically speaking, I think it’s possible to travel everywhere, but people are just hiding in fear and often reluctant to speak. Also in the last month or so, the Islamic Emirate has gone the extra mile to make it very difficult to work. They’re not brave enough to cut our access, but they make sure they waste so much of your energy, time and resources that we give up.

How do you get in touch with the people you portray?
My local colleagues, and I myself, have built up a network over the years I’ve lived there. We just reach out, make phone calls, talk to people to find whoever we have to find. Sometimes you just have to show up in a place and hope for the best. It’s truly teamwork though. Some of the people I work with leave an impression on me, and those are the ones that I try to keep in touch with the most. Either through direct phone or Whatsapp.

Nafas (20), who killed her husband, socialises with their cellmates and other incarcerated women. Herat, April 1, 2019. At the age of twelve, she had been made the second wife of an addicted and abusive man

Fakhria, her daughter Foroohar, and her friend Masooma wear masks for fun, and dance at the wedding anniversary of a friend. Kabul, February 18, 2021. After the Taliban took over Afghanistan, Fakhria, who often criticises the Taliban and stands up for women, had to flee the country

A group of girls take their weekly test at the Daqiq Institute, on a Friday morning, in preparation for university entrance exam. Balkh, October 8, 2021. The Taliban have now closed all secondary schools for girls, indefinitely

On a Friday afternoon, Nazanin (21) and her friends, Salima (22), Madina (19), and Zulaikha (20) go out to Bandi Bargh (Electricity Dam) for a picnic. The girls have come to Nili from distant districts of Daikundi, to complete their secondary education. Daikundi, March 19, 2021

A family mourn over the body of their murdered son. He had left Afghanistan illegally and was on his way to Europe, when he was pushed down a mountain on the Iranian-Turkish border. Kabul, June 24, 2021

What responsibility do you see for yourself as a photojournalist?
With so many images created everyday, I think our role as photojournalists has changed. I remember Stephan Mayes once told me (paraphrasing a little here): the age of single images has come to an end. It is now a stream of images that builds narrative and tells stories. I think, as photojournalists, we have to be more thoughtful and form those streams of images, in order to change the public’s perception and change minds.

What does the LOBA Award mean to you personally?
It truly means a lot to me to receive it; especially as the jury mentioned that my commitment to Afghanistan was admirable and outstanding. I hope the award and the exhibition bring some attention back and keep Afghans, especially Afghan women, in the news a bit longer. I hope my photos help bridge the gap and humanize these people who have been stripped of everything they had.

Kiana Hayeri was born in 1988, in Tehran, Iran, where she grew up, before emigrating to Toronto, Canada, as a teenager. In 2021, she received the Robert Capa Gold Medal for her Where Prison Is a Kind of Freedom series, documenting the lives of Afghan women in Herat Prison. In 2020, she received the Tim Hetherington Visionary Award; and became the sixth recipient of the James Foley Award for Conflict Reporting. Hayeri is a Senior TED Fellow and works regularly for The New York Times and National Geographic. She lives in Kabul, Afghanistan. Find out more about her photography on her website and Instagram channel.

All images of the LOBA series and further information can be found on the LOBA webpage.
The LOBA catalogue 2022 also contains all images and an interview with the photographer.

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