In a time when the world feels overwhelming, when it often seems like we cannot help anyone and everything feels out of our control, this is an opportunity to directly help a family.

This is concrete. This is personal. This makes a difference.

I have known Hasib since 2014. We began working together more than a decade ago through dialogue and education initiatives that brought Americans and Afghan civilians into conversation with one another. We built programs side by side. We navigated cultural complexity together. We stayed up late coordinating sessions across time zones. Over the years, he became more than a colleague. He became my friend. He became like a brother. I have seen his integrity up close. I have seen his commitment to others when no one was watching.

Four years ago, his life changed overnight. In 2021, when Afghanistan’s government collapsed and the country entered a new and uncertain chapter, it was not just a political event for him. It erased the life he had built. The school where he worked educating girls was shut down. Teaching girls in person was banned. The mission he had dedicated himself to suddenly became impossible to continue in the same way.

One by one, his friends and colleagues left the country. His circle became smaller. He stayed behind. He stayed for his mother. He stayed for his wife and children. He stayed for the girls who still needed someone to believe in them.

Since then, he has quietly carried more than most of us can imagine. He battled depression while continuing to serve others. He helped women learn coding online so they could earn income remotely. He became a bridge between families abroad and relatives still inside Afghanistan. He supported people during disasters when they lost homes and livelihoods. Even when his own world was unstable, he showed up for others.

Now he is facing a crisis of his own.

Last year, his six-year-old daughter, Mahroo, began struggling to walk normally. After many consultations, she was diagnosed with Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip. Doctors told the family the condition had been discovered late and treatment would be complicated. Hasib gathered every dollar he had saved and borrowed from friends to raise what he could. He took Mahroo to Pakistan because treatment for her condition was not available locally. Both of her hips were operated on.

For nearly three months, the family lived in hospital corridors, watching their small child endure surgery and recovery. They returned home hopeful. But Mahroo is still struggling. One of her legs has become shorter. Her pelvis is not aligned properly. There are complications that require close follow-up. Her doctor in Pakistan has told them clearly that they must return for further evaluation, and there is a strong possibility of another surgery.

Travel is extremely complicated. Borders close without warning. Ground travel is restricted. Flights are expensive. Visas are difficult to secure and often require high unofficial fees. Due to current restrictions, his wife cannot travel alone. The entire family must travel together. This means four visas, four plane tickets, medical consultations, and possible surgery costs.

Hasib has already exhausted his savings and borrowed everything he could the first time. For four years, he endured national collapse, professional loss, isolation, and deep uncertainty. But this is different. This is his daughter.

We are setting a clear and specific goal: with enough support, we can help cover the costs of travel and medical care and give Mahroo the chance to walk without pain. If you cannot give, please consider sharing this with others.

We will be withdrawing the funds here in the United States (zip code 16801) and wiring them directly to Hasib’s family so they can access the care Mahroo needs.

Please help support Hasib and his family as they face this medical crisis. Your generosity will make a direct and meaningful difference in their lives.