The Ban on Safe Births
Written by Laetitia Stuchtey for Sahar Education
The plight of women: No treatment by men and no female midwives.
No midwives, no treatments, no health care at all.
That is the future Afghan women are facing.
In December, the Taliban supreme leader issued a ban on women attending medical education. This not only bars women from one of the last opportunities to achieve an education beyond the sixth grade and to enter a profession, but it is also the fragile backbone of women’s access to healthcare. Since women are often banned from visiting a male healthcare professional, they rely solely on female midwives, nurses, and doctors.
A survey in 2023 showed an already increased difficulty in providing maternal and child care, which led to Afghanistan being the country with the highest infant mortality rate in 2024. So, to stifle the already high and climbing risk of death due to birth-related complications in Afghanistan, a far higher number of women is needed to provide maternal care. With this ban in place, the number of avoidable deaths during birth or through treatable illnesses and injuries is expected to rise drastically.
This, once again, is a testament to the significance of education, of women in education, and to the relentless strength of the women and the people in their fight for access to education.
The SAHAR programs on women’s health, menstruation and the post and pre-natal care of women are part of this essential education and will work to continue under the current ban.
And in light of the growing threat to women’s health, SAHAR is working on a number of new approaches to support Afghan women in the upcoming year.
A Tale of Three Sisters
The first was a student, the brightest her age.
She raised her arm first, studied for prizes, not grades.
The second’s profession made and saved lives,
She lived in her calling, gave families light.
The third carried life, her back heavy with pride.
She lived for its future, worried for both of their rights.
The first went to learn all schooling could give,
Until a ban after dusk left her sit bare with her gifts.
She turned to her desk, and she studied at home,
She worked through the books, although progress was slow
The world was worse off, as it would never know
The progress that the first sister could never show.
The second delivered on a late winter’s eve.
She held both mother and babe, and she stitched up their bleeds.
Soon after her hands turned from blessing to vice.
Outside on the streets she could still hear the cries,
But by chains and by threats, she was kept to the side.
And she watched, and she bled, as another one died.
The third carried life, as heavy a weight.
And as the life grew, she grew more afraid.
Afraid that she would carry death, rather than life for herself.
And carry death for someone else.
So, she called for a sister, the second it was.
But, she knew, she would call her in vein
Her sister was still clamped in chains.
It was before dawn that she cried.
And it was at dawn that they’d fight.
Just small, but it grew then, the light.
Further when a sister studied remote.
Much more, when others were taught.
The sun rose with the third child’s first breath
As the second placed it on her chest.
It is before dawn that I write.
But I found the people, who fight.