Desirous
Action expresses priorities
http://m.thestar.com/#/article/news...d-in-afghanistan-i-am-so-ashamed-and-sad.html
This is so sad. I can't imagine being a victim of war.
Addicted in Afghanistan: ‘I am so ashamed and sad’
Addiction is soaring in Afghanistan, victims of war, a weak economy and a bumper crop of poppies. The saddest stories emerge under a Kabul bridge.
Kiana HAYERI / THE WASHINGTON POST
Afghani heroin addicts huddle under a bridge In Kabul where “doctors” charge 20 cents to find veins that have not collapsed from overuse.
Published on Feb 08 2015
Pamela ConstableTHE WASHINGTON POST
KABUL, AFGHANISTAN—The scene beneath a crumbling overpass was a vision from hell. Hundreds of figures huddled together in the shadows, crouching amid garbage and fetid pools of water. Some injected heroin into each other’s limbs or groins in full view; others hid under filthy shawls to cook and inhale it.
An elderly man in a turban wandered among the addicts, showing them a snapshot of his missing son. A young man lay unconscious on a muddy blanket after a long, cold night, while others speculated whether he was already dead.
“I love my son, but he is sick from drugs,” said the old man, a labourer who gave his name as Ghausuddin. He looked at the photo and began to weep. “He must be cured. All of these boys must be cured or they must be killed. They are destroying Afghanistan. A whole generation is being destroyed.”
This is so sad. I can't imagine being a victim of war.
Addicted in Afghanistan: ‘I am so ashamed and sad’
Addiction is soaring in Afghanistan, victims of war, a weak economy and a bumper crop of poppies. The saddest stories emerge under a Kabul bridge.
Kiana HAYERI / THE WASHINGTON POST
Afghani heroin addicts huddle under a bridge In Kabul where “doctors” charge 20 cents to find veins that have not collapsed from overuse.
Published on Feb 08 2015
Pamela ConstableTHE WASHINGTON POST
KABUL, AFGHANISTAN—The scene beneath a crumbling overpass was a vision from hell. Hundreds of figures huddled together in the shadows, crouching amid garbage and fetid pools of water. Some injected heroin into each other’s limbs or groins in full view; others hid under filthy shawls to cook and inhale it.
An elderly man in a turban wandered among the addicts, showing them a snapshot of his missing son. A young man lay unconscious on a muddy blanket after a long, cold night, while others speculated whether he was already dead.
“I love my son, but he is sick from drugs,” said the old man, a labourer who gave his name as Ghausuddin. He looked at the photo and began to weep. “He must be cured. All of these boys must be cured or they must be killed. They are destroying Afghanistan. A whole generation is being destroyed.”
