Afghas hidden in Pakistan live in fear of forced deportation

But Pakistan is not part of the refugee convention and has previously said that he does not recognize the Afghans who live in the country as refugees. The Government has said that its policies are aimed at all illegal foreigners and that a deadline is coming for them to leave. That date has fluctuated, but is now established on March 31 for those without valid visas, and on June 30 for those with resettlement letters.

Many Afghan are terrified in the midst of confusion. They also say that the visa process can be difficult to navigate. Nabila’s family believes they only have one option: hide. His father Hamid served in the Afghan army, before the acquisition of the Taliban in 2021. He broke into the tears described by their insomnia nights.

“I have served my country and now I am useless. That work has condemned me,” he said.

His family has no visas, and is not on a resettlement list. They tell us that their telephone calls to the UN refugee agency have no answer.

The BBC has communicated with the agency to comment.

The Taliban government previously told the BBC that all Afghans should return because they could “live in the country without any fear.” He states that these refugees are “economic migrants.”

But a UN report in 2023, external They take doubts about the guarantees of the Taliban government. He found that hundreds of former government officials and members of the armed forces were allegedly killed despite a general amnesty.

The guarantees of the Taliban government are of little peace of mind for Nabila’s family, so they choose to run when the authorities are close. The neighbors offer refuge, since everyone tries to avoid retaining Afghanistan.

The UN told 1,245 Afghans arrested or detained in January in Pakistan, more than double the same period last year.

Nabila says that Afghan should not be forced. “Do not throw the Afghan of their homes, we are not here by choice, we are forced to be here.”

There is a feeling of sadness and loneliness in your home. “He had a friend who was here and then was deported to Afghanistan,” says Nabila Maryam’s mother.

“It was like a sister, a mother. The day we separated was a difficult day.”

I ask Nabila what he wants to do when he is older. “Modeling,” she says, taking a serious look. Everyone in the room smiles. The tension is missed.

His mother whispers, there are many other things that could be, an engineer or a lawyer. Nabila’s dream of Modelar is one that could never pursue under the Taliban government. With their restrictions on the education of girls, their mother’s suggestions would also be impossible.