In the cacophony of Kabul’s bird market, a woman navigates the throng with her family.
A child’s gaze captures the stark reality of Kabul’s market. With a GDP per capita that plummeted from $550-$600 during wartime to $420 in 2022, the grueling poverty is palpable.
The city’s main bazaar is a labyrinthine sprawl where hawkers peddle a dizzying array of goods—from edibles to electronics to glittering gold.
A woman walks with her husband, adhering to the rule that women step out only with a male escort—father, grandfather, brother, or husband.
Vegetables spill across makeshift stalls in a street market—the norm here, where “real” grocery stores are a rarity and power too fickle for refrigeration. Meat is butchered daily and cooked well to compensate.
A carpet seller, likely from the outskirts, with his wares. Many rural families turn to home production, especially during the bitter winters.
Bird vendors are ubiquitous, their cages lining the streets. These birds are not for the table, at least none were served to me, but for ornamentation or companionship.
A lone woman’s silhouette is cast against the dusty backdrop of Kabul’s streets, a city wrapped in resilience and survival.