Poverty forces Kabul parents to send kids to orphanages

"We thank the US for helping us against the war on terrorism," says Mr. Sameem, "but we want them now to help us in our war on ignorance and poverty. That's more important to us than a war on terror."

For now, this war on ignorance is fought in dozens of cramped classrooms in the orphanages, where boys and girls study Persian language, arithmetic, and some basic Islamic lessons.

In Ms. Shahima's arithmetic class, for instance, the boys have a very real-life lesson in division. There are 30 boys, but only 15 seats, so two boys must share each. There are only 10 pencils, so three boys must take turns scribbling notes from the chalkboard.

Most of the children at Alauddin have parents nearby, who they visit two days a week.

Sameem, a bright 9-year-old from the Panjshir valley, says his mother brought him to Alauddin two months ago when she could no longer care for him. His father was killed three years ago fighting against the Taliban, leaving Sameem's mother to scratch together a living by baking bread.

"I like it here," he says. "I like the lessons, the teachers, the other children. And from the time that I've been here, I've received five sets of clothes and four pairs of shoes."

Jaihon, a lanky 12-year-old from Badakhshan Province, takes a bus across town once a week to see his mother and four brothers and sisters. An uncle, who works as a civil servant for the interior department of the Afghan interim government, also helps support the family.

"I feel lucky to be here," says Jaihon, fingering a notebook full of lessons. "I can study my lessons, and I receive food and clothes here. I miss my family, but it's better if I stay here."

Mohammad Yasin Safar, project manager for the Children in Crisis aid agency, says that until more funds arrive, orphanages such as Alauddin will have no choice but to turn away the dozens of young boys who arrive every morning begging to be admitted.

"The economic problems of Afghans are so great that poor families are very keen to have their children go to an orphanage, just so they can receive aid," says Mr. Safar. "Right now, we're trying to reunify families and stop new admissions...."

But not all is bleak at Alauddin. Out in the orphanage's parched dusty playground, a platoon of British peacekeepers hammer away at a jungle gym.

"I think they are Italians," guesses one boy. He grins. "I think they have come here to Afghanistan just to build this for us."

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