When Shahnaz went into labour, her husband Abdul Wakeel did what any desperate father would—he called a taxi and rushed her to the nearest clinic, just 20 minutes away. But when they arrived, the doors were shut. The clinic, nestled in the remote village of Shesh Pol in Afghanistan’s Badakhshan province, had quietly closed down after U.S. funding was abruptly withdrawn earlier this year.
“She was in so much pain,” Abdul recalls, voice breaking. “We didn’t know it was closed. I was helpless.”
That clinic was one of over 400 across Afghanistan that shut their doors after the Trump administration cut nearly all U.S. aid to the country, following the dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). These facilities, often the only source of care in mountainous and impoverished regions, played a vital role in reducing maternal deaths.
The Shesh Pol clinic had one trained midwife who assisted with 25–30 births monthly. It offered basic medicines, safe deliveries, and hope. Without it, Abdul had no choice but to turn back. The nearest alternative was too far, and he couldn’t afford the cost.
They didn’t make it home. Shahnaz gave birth in the back of the taxi. She died minutes later from blood loss. Their newborn daughter died shortly after.
“I cried, I screamed,” Abdul says. “If the clinic had been open, they might still be alive.”
Their story is not unique.
Within months, villagers buried two more women—Daulat Begi and Javhar—both lost during childbirth. Khan Mohammad, another local, buried his wife Gul Jan and their son Safiullah earlier this year. These names are absent from any record. The U.S. government claims no one has died because of the aid cuts, but locals say otherwise.
While Washington cites concerns that aid may have indirectly funded the Taliban—pointing to nearly $11 million allegedly siphoned in taxes and fees—Afghan families are paying the true cost. The Taliban denies those claims, stating NGOs independently manage aid distribution.
These closed clinics may not have guaranteed survival—but without them, survival wasn’t even a possibility.
“I was always happy when I was with her,” Abdul whispers beside the grave of his wife and child. “Now, I have nothing but memories—and pain.”
