5 Key Takeaways
- Three in every four Afghans cannot meet basic needs, with 4.7 million people on the brink of famine.
- Desperate parents are selling young daughters into marriage to afford food, medical care, or pay debts.
- The economic collapse after the Taliban takeover, combined with severe cuts in international aid, has driven the crisis.
- Taliban restrictions on women's education and employment increase girls' vulnerability to being sold as an economic asset.
- Without sustained humanitarian funding and reversal of Taliban policies, the hunger crisis and tragic practices will worsen.
'I'm Willing to Sell My Daughters': Inside Afghanistan's Desperate Hunger Crisis
In a dusty village in Afghanistan's Ghor province, a man clutches his seven-year-old twin daughters and weeps. He is not mourning a death — he is considering selling one of them so the rest of his family can eat.
This is the reality of hunger in Afghanistan today, where soaring poverty, mass unemployment and a precipitous drop in international aid are pushing parents to make choices no one should have to face. The United Nations paints a stark picture: three in every four Afghans cannot meet their basic needs. An estimated 4.7 million people — more than 10 percent of the population — stand one step away from famine. A shattered healthcare system, pervasive joblessness and deep cuts to humanitarian funding have combined to create a perfect storm. In the middle of this, families are reportedly selling their young daughters to pay for food, clear debts or cover urgent medical bills.
A BBC investigation from the central province of Ghor uncovered several such cases. Abdul Rashid Azimi, a day labourer, spoke of his desperate situation. He has twin daughters, Roqia and Rohila, just seven years old. Because he can no longer afford to feed his family, he is contemplating giving one of the girls away in a marriage arrangement in exchange for money.
"I'm willing to sell my daughters. I'm poor, in debt and helpless. I come home from work with parched lips, hungry, thirsty, distressed and confused. My children come to me saying 'Baba, give us some bread'. But what can I give? Where is the work?"
— Abdul Rashid Azimi Day labourer and father of twin daughters, Ghor Province
Azimi broke down in tears as he described coming home exhausted, hungry and thirsty, only to be met by his children begging for something to eat. He held and kissed Rohila while speaking, saying the decision "breaks my heart" but that it was the only option left for his family's survival.
A Father's Impossible Choice
Azimi's story is not an isolated one. In the same province, Saeed Ahmad faced a different but equally impossible ordeal. His five-year-old daughter, Shaiqa, developed appendicitis and a cyst on her liver. He had no money to pay for the surgery she desperately needed. With no other way out, he sold her to a relative. The arrangement brought in 200,000 Afghanis — enough to cover the operation — but came with the condition that Shaiqa would eventually be married into the relative's family, becoming his daughter-in-law.
"I had no money to pay the medical expenses. So I sold my daughter to a relative. If I had taken the whole sum at that time, he would have taken her away. So I told him just give me enough for her treatment now, and in the next five years you can give me the rest after which you can take her. She will become his daughter-in-law."
— Saeed Ahmad Father of Shaiqa, age 5, Ghor Province
Ahmad negotiated a partial payment to delay the full transfer, giving his daughter a few more years at home before she would be sent away. His family, like millions of others across Afghanistan, had once received international food aid — flour, cooking oil, lentils and nutritional supplements for children — during a previous humanitarian push. But two years later, that lifeline has vanished.
The Collapse of International Support
The United States slashed nearly all its assistance to Afghanistan, and other major donors sharply reduced their support. Families who depended on that aid were left with nothing, their last safety net pulled from beneath them. The broad collapse of Afghanistan's economy dates back to the Taliban takeover in August 2021. International sanctions, a freeze on the country's foreign reserves, the abrupt halt of development aid and the exodus of skilled professionals tipped the nation into a deep crisis. The formal banking system crumbled, and unemployment skyrocketed.
While some emergency humanitarian assistance continued, the cuts reported in the BBC investigation signal that even those programmes are drying up, leaving places like Ghor increasingly isolated and cut off from relief. The UN's latest figures underscore the scale of the disaster. Three-quarters of the population are unable to buy food, medicine or fuel. A healthcare system on the verge of collapse means treatable conditions become life-threatening — exactly as happened with Shaiqa's appendix and liver cyst. When families cannot pay, they are forced to turn to the most drastic of measures.
Key Context
Three-quarters of Afghanistan's population cannot afford food, medicine, or fuel. A healthcare system on the verge of collapse turns treatable conditions into life-threatening emergencies — precisely what happened with five-year-old Shaiqa's appendix and liver cyst.
Why Are Girls Being Sold?
One question arises inevitably from these accounts: why are girls being sold far more than boys? The answer lies in a mix of deep-rooted custom and contemporary policy. In Afghanistan, sons are traditionally seen as future breadwinners who will stay with the family and support their ageing parents financially. Daughters, however, typically move to their husband's family upon marriage. A longstanding tradition involves the groom's family giving money or gifts to the bride's family during a wedding. In times of extreme hardship, that transaction becomes a survival tool: a daughter can be married off early to generate immediate cash for food or medical treatment.
That dynamic has grown far more severe under Taliban rule. Since regaining power, the Taliban have imposed sweeping restrictions on women and girls, barring them from secondary education and most forms of employment. These policies have not only deepened gender inequality but have also contributed to donor reluctance. International bodies and foreign governments have cited the treatment of women and girls as a key reason for withholding aid, inadvertently punishing the very populations they aim to protect.
Girls as Economic Assets in a Crisis
Experts say the bans have reduced girls to an economic liability in the eyes of some families, while simultaneously making them the only asset that can be liquidated in a crisis. With girls unable to study or earn a livelihood, their perceived value narrows to the bride price they can command. The practice of underage marriage was already widespread in Afghanistan; since the Taliban barred girls from classrooms, it has reportedly increased.
The cycle is devastating. A young girl sold into marriage to clear a family debt or buy food is often forced out of school, even where limited primary education remains available. She faces early pregnancy, domestic violence and a lifetime of poverty. Her own children will be born into the same deprivation, and the family's recourse to selling daughters perpetuates the very conditions it seeks to escape.
Famine Warnings Materialising
Aid agencies have warned for years that without sustained, large-scale humanitarian funding, Afghanistan would slide into famine. That warning is now materialising. The US decision to slash assistance — on top of already reduced contributions from Europe and other donors — has been catastrophic. In many rural provinces, food distribution centres have shut down, health clinics have run out of medicine, and cash-for-work programmes have evaporated.
The personal accounts from Ghor reveal the human cost of these cuts. Abdul Rashid Azimi, once able to bring home some income, now returns empty-handed day after day. Saeed Ahmad, who received food aid just two years earlier, watched helplessly as his daughter fell gravely ill and faced an impossible choice to save her. The money he accepted for Shaiqa temporarily solved one crisis but locked her into a future she did not choose.
The headlines often focus on geopolitics — the Taliban's edicts, the negotiations over frozen assets, the diplomatic standoffs. But on the ground, the crisis is measured in empty stomachs, treatable diseases left unchecked, and silent deals made behind closed doors. The 200,000-Afghani marriage arrangement for Shaiqa is not recorded in any official ledger, but it is a transaction that will define the rest of her life.
What Happens Next?
The path forward is fraught. Humanitarian organisations are struggling with donor fatigue and competing global emergencies. The Taliban authorities show no sign of reversing their restrictions on women, which remains a major obstacle to restoring normalised aid and development cooperation. Without a dramatic reversal in funding, the UN's estimate of 4.7 million people on the brink of famine may soon be overtaken by a much larger catastrophe.
Families like those of Azimi and Ahmad are making choices no parent should ever have to make. Until the underlying drivers — extreme poverty, chronic unemployment, lack of healthcare and the erosion of women's rights — are addressed, the selling of young daughters will remain a tragic hallmark of Afghanistan's deepening hunger crisis.
The world may look away, but in Ghor, a father's weeping as he hugs his little girl tells a story that cannot be ignored.
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