Communication
I smiled and communicated as best I could without knowledge of the local language. I had only learned a few words of Dari in my first few days in the country. As is my practice, I always sought permission to take a photo. This gave rise to some perplexity and shyness and a sense of pride in the face and expression of the man approached. Of course for the other men in the crowd my approach was a source of laughter and high amusement. They often helped me cajole the 'subject' to drop the formal pose and to smile broadly. In one place, the famous men got their name written down by a very proud young man in the crowd who could not only translate and write in English script, but spell out their names in translation, too. Much to my disappointment, the word or concept of address was not understood by the young man and so the opportunity to send copies of the famous faces back to their owners was lost to me.

Hindu Kush
The Hindu Kush mountains, mighty and rugged, are heavily coated in snow at this time and offer some stunning shapes and forms. You can travel for miles and miles without seeing a soul, at times its like being in the Antarctic. Suddenly you see a figure or two walking the road, turbaned, with a cloth sack and a stick in hand and sometimes wearing wellies. More often than not their feet are covered by slip on shoes made from old rubber tyres. They are worn without socks.

In the early morning, after a heavy snowfall there are no road markings and it is difficult to see the red paint on the stones which indicate the mined areas. There are 20 million unexploded mines in Afghanistan, the most heavily mined country in the world at the moment. Up to 300 people a month are maimed by mines.

Mountain man
Driving can be a hell of an experience, one journey of 50 miles took us 10 hours. This man was probably returning to his village after tending his goats in the mountains. This is a particularly good stretch of road and makes his village accessible. Some villages are so remote they have been cut off for many months. Malnutrition and death are inevitable. Many of the roads that we travelled were merely tracks. When the snow melts its a quagmire. It's equally as dangerous on the cliff edges and the mountain passes when the jeep is up to its axle in thick, slippery mud. Sometimes its better not to know what precisely is happening. To cross a river you drive through it. On one of our journeys I kept an eye on the jeep behind, and in which Barrie was travelling, its headlights were completely submerged in water for the duration of the river crossings.

Food Queue
I met many people who had travelled to the distribution centers, on foot for five or six hours, in snow, muck and ice, or with a donkey, if they were lucky. They queued with an amazing dignity and with an extraordinary kindness towards each other. After inking and registering their thumb print, they collected a tin stove and flue piping both made from recycled tin, two plastic bottles for carrying and storing water and a 50 kg bag of plain flour that was to last their family for at least one month. For women it is particularly hard, many have no grown men left in their families. Although hidden in their burqas or headdress, they come very shyly and reluctantly. I wondered if some of them with their thin frames and poorly clad bodies would make the journey back home to their children.

Woman in white burqa
This woman saw me alone on the street with my camera. It was on my last day in Afghanistan. I was observing some children, the street was otherwise empty. She indicated to me to take her photograph. I was delighted for both of us. Her little daughter wasn't so enthusiastic. I didn't see the woman's face, we spoke no words, but we met on the street.

In Afghanistan I often felt like I was the only female of the species, that every other female had either been banished or was in hiding. I rarely saw a woman in any shape or form over the age of 11 in any of the villages or the countryside in north-eastern Afghanistan. One day as our jeep entered a village, I saw in the distance among the crowds, a burqa. To my horror the woman, though fully covered, scurried to a wall to hide herself as we passed. It was a treat to meet this white burqua'd woman, who wanted to identify herself to me and to the world.

Concern
These women have waited for four hours, huddled together and squatting in the snow outside a Concern compound, hoping to register their families for food distribution. They had not made it to the formal registration. Their appearance in public was unusual, women do not normally approach men, they do not normally represent themselves or their interests, nor the interests or concerns of their families, even wearing a burqa.

A common perception in the west is that women can and are now throwing off the burqa, that all has utterly changed with the fall of the Taliban, that the future is looking well and very different for women. There is undoubtedly a new-found liberation and liberalization of movement for some, in particular, for the relatively few educated Afghan women. But for poor women, for those parenting alone, for those in rural areas and in small towns, for women with disabilities, for those of particular ethnic groups, the experience is very different.

Acknowledging the role of these women, and allowing, actively encouraging, and enabling them to participate fully in decision making processes at every level, is a major challenge for the development agencies, if they are to facilitate the development of a more just and equal society in Afghanistan.

Main Street
The main street of Taloqan, the provincial town of Takhar was bustling and buzzing with life. There was much gaiety in the air and taped music played from the little stalls along the street. Carts, horses, the odd car and many pedestrians jostled for space. Many non-perishable goods were available and being traded, I was even able to buy some film in post Taliban Taloqan. However the poverty was not hidden and I was struck by the fact that the only fresh fruit that I saw for sale was a cart of black bananas.

Father and son
In the registration area, people huddle together, under the watchful eye of the armed guards, waiting in the hope of registering as asylum seekers, and to be recognized as refugees. Pakistan hasn't signed the Geneva Convention, this makes things all the more difficult for those fleeing Afghanistan, for the aid agencies and for Pakistan itself. There are 2 million Afghan refugees in Pakistan. All talk about legal status, rights and responsibilities is rather meaningless in this context. In the eyes and in the faces and the movement of the groups of men, women and children, you see simultaneously pain, suffering, hope, despair, a terrible tiredness but a spark and determination to go on.

This man wanted to speak, to tell his story, but there wasn't time. We were tied to time with the restrictions of the dawn and dusk curfew. I took the photo to allow a little of his story to be expressed and communicated. The expression in his face and eyes and those of his child, tell some of their story.

Camp
Up to 300 families a day are still fleeing Afghanistan and seeking refuge at the camps at Chaman, on the border, because of drought, hunger, insecurity, lack of access to food, bombing and looting of their homes. Many nomads of the region, are now turning up to the camps, they too are worn out, going into a 4th year of drought. Many of their animals have died or have been sold for food, and they now are coming to the camps as a last resort and to seek sustenance. Their lifestyle is not readily accommodated in the camps and the nomads are unused to the ways of settled people.

Unfortunately the displacement of so many people and the lack of adequate accommodation leads to inevitable tensions.

Tent kids
Children with swollen tummies, and shy to passers-by, play between the tents in the refugee camp under the watchful eyes of their mothers. This dry arid space is currently home to 50,000 men women and children. Three days before we visited the camp, it was minus 6 degrees during the day, the water pipes which carried a limited water supply to the camp were frozen solid. These children, like the others in the camp have no formal learning or development opportunities, they may be here for months, for years. Like kids anywhere, they want to be safe, to go home. In the meantime, they dream and play in the dust and dry clay or learn from the older ones how to create and make, with a little water and much imagination, mud houses, mud toys, or mud food.

Little Girl
What a joy to see the smiling happy face of a child, it's like a burst of sunshine on a dreary day. Despite the fact that she is stuck in a refugee camp, behind barbed wire fencing and in cramped conditions, this little nomadic girl beams hope and radiance - testimony to the spirit and resilience of the Afghan people, despite their awful situation.

Find out more about Concern and its work from an interview with Dominic MacSorley.