From Herat to the border: A doctor’s unwavering commitment to Afghan returnees
By Abdullah Zahid
"Since childhood, I dreamed of wearing a doctor’s white coat; my family strongly supported me in becoming a doctor," said Dr. Amna,* a devoted physician at the Islam Qala Reception Centre on the Iran-Afghanistan border, in western Afghanistan.
Every morning before sunrise, Amna leaves her home in Herat city and makes the gruelling three-hour journey each way to the remote border crossing. The road is long and exhausting, but she arrives ready to treat hundreds of Afghans returning from Iran. Many are physically and mentally fragile and urgently need care.
Since Iran’s 20 March 2025 deadline requiring undocumented Afghans to leave the country, arrivals at Islam Qala have surged. During peak weeks in June and July, the reception centre received up to 30,000 people a day, most of them families fleeing hardship and political tensions. Nearly 1.7 million people have returned so far this year – one third were from Iran in July alone.
"Given the overwhelming number of returnees and the scale of their needs, we have not been able to assist everyone, and services are incredibly stretched,” Amna explained. “Nevertheless, even where we have been able to meet only a fraction of the needs, this support has made a real difference."
Central to the response is a small but dedicated team from the UN Population Fund, in partnership with the non-profit Agency for Assistance and Development of Afghanistan. The team comprises Dr. Amna, two midwives, and two mental health and psychosocial support counsellors. They are now overwhelmed.
Amna explained: “Many returnees arrive physically unwell, emotionally distressed and in urgent need of care due to the harsh conditions they endured during their journey. Before, I examined about 50 patients a day, but now the number has doubled.”
The hidden struggles of a woman aid worker
Despite her dedication, Amna faces deeply personal challenges. In Afghanistan’s context, women travelling long distances must be accompanied by a mahram (male guardian). For Amna, this usually means her brother, who travels with her every day.
"At times, if my brother is unavailable, we ask one of our uncles to come," she shared. "Imagine two of us working for one salary: me and my brother."
This arrangement adds financial and emotional strain. Amna lives with her mother, sister and two brothers, and she is one of the household’s main breadwinners. But she admits that the long days, constant exposure to trauma and lack of rest take a toll: "There are days when the sadness and pressure are overwhelming. I told my counsellor colleague recently that nothing makes me happy anymore."
Her colleague, mental health counsellor Maryam,* confirms the emotional weight of the work: "The stories we hear every day are heartbreaking. Many patients come with tears and experiences of real hardship and deprivation, and it affects us all deeply – especially in a context where women like us face our own life challenges and restrictions."
A journey marked by determination
Amna’s path to becoming a doctor was anything but smooth. After completing nine years of school, she passed an equivalency exam to enter Herat University’s Faculty of Medicine – becoming the last female graduate before the de facto authorities closed universities to women.
"We were not even allowed to take the exit exam to get our medical licenses," she recalled. "I save half my salary to learn a foreign language and hope to study abroad for specialization one day."
Before the closures, Amna taught weekend classes at a private university; she hopes to resume this when opportunities return.
Lifeline at the border
Midwife Zahra,* a member of Amna’s team, recalled helping a woman who had endured a traumatic and dangerous journey from Iran – she was dehydrated and close to giving birth, but with no medical support along the way.
“With our timely intervention, the mother delivered her baby safely and naturally,” said Zahra. “This moment highlighted the resilience of returnees and the life-saving impact of our team.”
These moments keep Amna going: "This work is difficult, but I know we are making a difference together."
Despite 15-hour days filled with commuting, patient care and endless challenges, Amna continues to live her childhood dream. She wears her white coat with pride, restoring health, dignity and hope to those returning to an uncertain future.
*Names have been changed.