In the summer of 2023, Abid, a 16-year-old boy living in Dublin with his uncle, was able to visit his parents in Afghanistan. It was a bittersweet reunion. The familiar sights of Kabul – the bustling markets, the mountains framing the city – had brought back a rush of emotions.
He remembered the joy of seeing his mother waiting at the door, tears in her eyes as she pulled him into a tight embrace. His father, despite the hardships they faced, had smiled, his pride evident. For those few weeks, they were together again, and for a while, the world felt right.
But this past summer was different.
As the school holidays approached, Abid had eagerly packed his bags, excited to return to Kabul. His family had been counting down the days. His younger brother had even sent him a list of all the places they would visit when he arrived. But when he went to book his flight, his heart sank – his passport had expired.
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He went to the Afghan embassy in London hoping to renew it in time for his trip. But instead of getting the paperwork processed, he was met with the stark reality that the embassy, once staffed by officials of the now-overthrown Afghan government, was no longer issuing passports.
In July, the Taliban’s foreign ministry announced that it would stop recognising documents issued by Afghan embassies in the UK and several other European nations, citing insufficient “co-ordination”.
The embassy – which acts as the mission for both the United Kingdom and Republic of Ireland – closed at the end of last month “at the official request” of the British government after the Taliban government dismissed the embassy’s staff for refusing to represent it.
Similar to the US, and other European countries, the UK does not recognise the Taliban, making it unlikely that they will permit the reopening of the embassy in the near future.
Abid phone buzzed with messages from his mother, asking when he would arrive. He didn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t coming. He felt trapped. Just a year ago, he had been able to hug his family, sit at the dinner table with them, and feel their presence. But now, all of that was out of reach, separated by a political wall he couldn’t break through.
Abid’s uncle, sitting next to him in their small Dublin apartment, tried to console him. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, but his voice was filled with the same frustration that gripped much of the Afghan community in Ireland.
This wasn’t just Abid’s struggle. Thousands of Afghans across Ireland found themselves in a similar situation. Many had family back in Afghanistan who needed their help, but the collapse of diplomatic channels left them powerless. The Afghan embassy, once a lifeline for those seeking to renew passports, process visas, or maintain any formal connection to their homeland, had been rendered almost obsolete. Without passports, people couldn’t visit their families, and many couldn’t bring their loved ones to safety in Europe.
“It’s more than just a passport,” Abid said. “It’s the only way I can see my family. I can’t even help them if I’m stuck here.”
His uncle nodded quietly. “You’re right. We’re all stuck, not just you. Our whole community is suffering.” The broader Afghan community in Ireland was grappling with the same issues. Refugees, many of whom had fled the Taliban’s regime for safety in Europe, now found themselves cut off from the families they had left behind. And with no embassy functioning as it should, the fear of never seeing their loved ones again was becoming a harsh reality.
“I used to think Ireland was my new home,” Abid reflected. “But what is home when your family is on the other side of the world, and you can’t get to them?”
For now, all Abid could do was send messages and video calls, hoping his family stayed safe in Kabul. But each passing day without them only deepened the sense of isolation, a pain shared by so many Afghans in Ireland – families divided by borders, politics, and the uncertainty of a world that seemed to forget them.
“The embassy of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan in London is set to officially close and cease operations on September 27th, 2024, at the formal request of the host country,” stated Zalmai Rassoul, who served as ambassador to the UK and Republic of Ireland under the previous republic government of Afghanistan.
This is not the first instance of the Afghan embassy in London shutting down. It was previously closed following the 1978 communist coup in Kabul due to its “anti-West bias and close ties with the former Soviet Union,” as noted on the embassy’s website. The mission was also closed from 1996 to 2001 during the Taliban’s first rule in Afghanistan.
As the Afghan community in Ireland grows larger, so too does the urgency for action. But for Abid, as the summer holidays draw to a close, all that remains is the unspoken fear: What if this separation never ends?
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