Honouring bravery, sacrifice of Kabul’s murdered midwives
Days later, is it difficult to stop my tears when I think about the massive tragedy in the Médecins sans frontières (MSF) hospital in Kabul last week. I am familiar with this hospital because it was in my neighbourhood.
Many of the MSF staff are my classmates, friends and neighbours. My nieces, my cousins and many of my relatives were born there. Many times I was there to accompany a patient, as well as to donate blood for the victims of past terrorist attacks in the surrounding areas.
When the hospital was a small clinic, I went there to do my clinical practice as a student of Ghazanfar Institute of Health. In 2014, buildings were added in the back of this old clinic to serve as maternity hospital run by MSF, also known as Doctors Without Borders.
The hospital recruited midwives and other staff and offered good salaries. Everything was of a high standard, with the best possible medical and non-medical equipment. Infection prevention procedures were unique and midwives were regularly trained and tested based on the latest competencies. Health education for patients was exceptional. Even the food was nutritious.
This hospital was in Dasht-e Barchi, one of the most vulnerable and underserved areas of Kabul; an area mostly belonging to Hazara and Shia minority. The facility was a centre of mercy for many Dasht-e Barchi residents.
It provided free high-quality and respectful services round the clock, even during this COVID-19 pandemic. It provided ambulance services even in the most remote area of Dasht-e Barchi and created several hundred jobs and opportunities.
Since 2015, this community has been targeted by ISIS and the Taliban. Hundreds have been killed in schools, mosques, news centres, educational centres, gyms — even hospitals.
But this is the first time terrorists targeted a maternity hospital in a most barbaric and unequal war, murdering 24 people with bullets and grenades. I do not know with whom they are fighting — a newborn? A mother who just has given birth, or a midwife who sacrifices her life to give life to others?
Maryam served as midwife during the pandemic. She was in the delivery room with a patient in the last stage of labour. Alarms were ringing and her colleagues called her to run away to safe rooms. She replied that she had a patient: “I cannot leave her alone.”
It was a selfless decision that cost Maryam her life. Her three children, including the youngest, who is the same age as my daughter, cannot see their mother anymore.
Maryam lost her life to teach the rest of the world the true meaning of being a midwife. In Afghanistan, we sing a song, which says: “You (mothers) are not alone, we (midwives) are with you.” Now I feel its full and deep meaning.
My friends who were there at the time cannot sleep. Though tortured by flashbacks, they are committed to continue their work under any circumstances. One said, “I am ready to sacrifice my life for others, to continue Maryam’s way.”
But their families have concerns for their safety and find it difficult to let their daughters and wives to go out and continue their work.
Many are asking if health facilities are safe for women giving birth. They are caught between their fears of death from childbirth complications and terrorist attacks.
For decades, the Afghanistan government has been working to reduce the maternal mortality by training midwives and expanding services to ensure that women in childbirth don’t die from preventable complications. The terrorists attacked these decades of efforts.
The world, international communities, Jhpiego and MSF should not give up.
They need to continue working with the Afghan government to recreate and reinforce the idea that hospitals and maternity clinics are safe for women and newborns.
Maryam’s bravery, sacrifice and selflessness needs to be acknowledged. She deserves to be remembered for her work as a midwife.