Qala-e-Naw, Badghis, northwestern Afghanistan – In the dry, searing heat of midday, a long line of women stretches across the dust-blown ground. Some carry toddlers on their hips; others clutch the hands of barefoot children. A few, heavily pregnant, press their hands against their backs as they slowly move forward in the line.

Burqas flutter faintly in the hot wind as the women, one by one, approach the distribution point – an open, makeshift setup where World Vision aid workers register and hand out packages of humanitarian assistance, funded by the World Food Programme (WFP): 2,900 Afghanis, or about US $40, along with 1.5 kilograms of Lipid-based Nutrient Supplement (LNS) for each of their children under five, and three kilograms of fortified Super Cereal for those who are pregnant or breastfeeding.

“Every month, I come here to collect food and cash,” says Marzia*, 38, a widow, holding tightly to her six-year-old son, Abdullah. For three years now, she has been receiving this lifeline support. “It’s the only reason my five children are still standing, barely making it from one month to the next.”

“Last week, I had to borrow some money just to buy a little food,” she goes on. “I can’t remember the last time we had a full meal. Most days, it’s just bread. If we’re lucky, rice.”

According to WFP, eight out of ten families cannot afford a minimally nutritious diet, and three out of four have to borrow money to buy basic groceries.

Among the hardest hit are female-headed households like Marzia’s – two-thirds of them are now unable to afford even basic nutrition.

*Names have been changed to protect the individuals’ identities.

Hunger pushes Marzia’s children into the streets, taking whatever jobs they can find.

Her youngest child, Hamidullah, is 14. Every day, before the sun fully claims the dust-choked streets of Qala-e-Naw, he and his siblings are already out, pacing barefoot along roadside gutters with rusted sacks slung over their shoulders.

Their eyes scan the ground for metal scraps, crushed cans, wire – anything that might fetch a few Afghanis. On good days, they might collect enough to earn 10 Afghanis, about 50 cents, enough to buy a few pieces of bread. But most days, it’s far less than that.

Behind Hamidullah, his sister Karima, 13, trails quietly, while their brother, Habibullah, just 8, holds a tin cup and stops by market stalls, asking for a few coins.

Like Hamidullah and his siblings, one in five children aged 5 to 17 are engaged in child labour – many in hazardous conditions. From brick kilns to carpet weaving, from street vending to dangerous mining jobs, these children work long hours to help their families meet basic needs.

“They go out and collect tin, metals, or anything that appears sellable,” their mother explains. “I want nothing more than to send my children to school. But when we can’t afford food, they don’t have that choice,” she adds.

This reality applies to 14.8 million Afghans, 32 percent of the country’s population, who are currently food insecure.

Poverty fuels hunger, and hunger, in turn, drives children out of classrooms and into labour. Across the country, millions of children are forced into often dangerous, backbreaking work just to help their families survive. Exclusion from education then reduces children’s chances of breaking this generational cycle of poverty and vulnerability.

At the same time, health clinics are packed with children wasted by severe acute malnutrition. In this fragile reality, the delivery of food aid and nutritional supplements remains a lifeline. For many children, it is the first and most immediate intervention available to prevent the onset of acute malnutrition and its long-term consequences.

Marzia doesn’t want to receive humanitarian assistance indefinitely: she wants to provide for her family. However, instead of expanding support for longer-term development, the international community is reducing even the inadequate humanitarian assistance they provide.

Now, even this lifeline is rapidly fraying. Amid ongoing funding cuts across the humanitarian sector, food assistance is already in sharp decline.

In March 2025 alone, the Nutrition Cluster reported the closure of 396 nutrition sites run by various humanitarian organisations, cutting off access to essential services for 80,000 women and children under five.

As a result, more than 288,000 people in food-insecure communities, many of them children, will lose access to urgent cash-for-food assistance provided only through World Vision’s programmes.

The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) will scale back its 2025 Humanitarian Needs and Response Plan. Originally intended to reach 16.8 million Afghans, the plan will now reach just 12.5 million, a reduction of nearly 26 percent.

This reduction will have devastating consequences for families already on the edge of survival. “In a country where nearly 90 percent of households cannot afford a nutritious diet, fewer food distributions and cash transfers could push many deeper into hunger, malnutrition, and harmful coping mechanisms,” says Blerina Lako, World Vision Afghanistan’s Operations Director.

The cuts come at a time when acute malnutrition affects an estimated 3 million children under the age of five, and hunger threatens one in three Afghans. A time when nearly every family continues to feel the aftershocks of decades of conflict, a crippling drought that has decimated livelihoods, and a deepening economic crisis.

Marzia is one of many bearing the lasting scars of war. Her husband was killed during that period, and she was shot while pregnant with her youngest son, Abdullah. “The injury changed everything,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as tears stream down her face. “He was born without hands or legs.”

“He hadn’t even come into the world yet, and he was already marked by war.”

Today, Marzia and her five children have no home. They stay wherever they can find shelter for the night. She used to rent a small room, but when she could no longer afford the payments, their belongings were taken, one by one.

The mother of five is constantly searching for work, but the few day jobs available are poorly paid and in high demand. “On the best days, I might earn 100 Afghanis [US $1.42] for cleaning someone’s house in the city,” she says. “But that kind of work is rare, and it’s never enough to feed us.”

Since she was married at 15, Marzia has lost five of her children to health complications, malnutrition, and the absence of immediate medical care.

“I want my children to have enough food. I want them in school, not out on the streets working or begging,” Marzia says. “I’ve even caught them stealing, driven by desperation to find something to eat. I try to guide them, to protect them. But when I see them starving, desperate, I feel powerless. Like I’m failing them.”

For Marzia, as for so many Afghan mothers, every day is a battle against hunger and loss. For families like hers, the looming cuts to humanitarian assistance don’t just threaten support, they threaten life itself.

Last year alone, World Vision reached 870,649 individuals, including over half a million children, with essential health and nutrition services.

More than 552,000 people, among them 331,305 children, saw improvements in their food consumption, a reduction in harmful coping strategies, and better protection against hunger. Through a combination of lifesaving aid, recovery programs, and resilience-building support, 635,151 individuals, including nearly 400,000 children, received the help they needed to hold on through crisis.

But now, all of that is at risk. Without urgent and sustained support, these fragile gains could be reversed, pushing millions more families into deeper hunger and hardship.

“I have already lost a child to malnutrition,” says Freshta*, her voice trembling beneath her light blue burqa. Six months pregnant, she clutches her aid package tightly. “This food is what keeps my children alive.”