COVID-19 has not left Afghanistan. But in Kabul, people are just ignoring it.

• Since the end of Ramadan in May, life in Kabul has mostly returned to normal, even as the rate of COVID-19 infection remains high. 
• The consensus seems to be that, after years of war and instability, the virus is just one more difficulty that Aghans must navigate. So, many in the capital are back to eating from shared platters, passing shisha pipes – and hoping for the best.  
• Afghanistan has had at least 50,536 COVID-19 cases and more than 2,000 reported deaths. But large numbers of Afghans remain untested and many who experience symptoms choose to self-isolate and treat themselves at home.
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When Kabul first went under coronavirus lockdown in late March, Atiqullah, a watani burger seller, feared the mysterious illness that he had heard was nearly bringing down the economies of the United States and United Kingdom.

But after a few weeks of shutting himself inside the house with his elderly, ailing parents, Atiqullah was back in his usual spot, near a bustling market where hundreds of men and women, most without masks, perused through stacks of second-hand winter clothes.

“Do you know who were the first people to get it, those rich politicians and businessmen who shut themselves away in a corner,” said Atiqullah, 24. He pointed to the death in July of a high-profile businessman and special advisor to President Ashraf Ghani as an example.

“I put my faith in God and came back out on the streets with the rest of my people.”

It’s not just 20-somethings like Atiqullah who have resumed their normal lives. All across Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital, life has seemingly returned to normal. 

Gone are the thermometers and hand sanitizer that greeted people at the entrance of banks and shopping malls. Restaurants have resumed business, with dozens of people, nearly all of them without a mask, sitting next to each other while drinking tea and smoking shisha. Wedding halls where upwards of 1,000 people convene in a single night are now once again packed.

In a nation still highly dependent on foreign aid, where social services are almost non-existent, it is easy to believe that the most destitute had no choice other than to return to work and resume their normal lives. But what of the more well-to-do, educated people who either continued to patronize shisha bars -- passing the pipe from mouth to mouth -- or quickly began to gather, mostly mask-less, in restaurants as soon as they reopened?

According to the Public Health Ministry as of December 19, there have been a total number of 50,536 COVID-19 cases in the country. Of those, a third are in Kabul. Since the first reported cases in early 2020, there have been at least 2,054 registered deaths from the illness. However, with access to health care still being a major issue in the country overall and the fears of overcrowding in hospitals, large numbers of Afghans remain untested and instead choose to self-isolate and treat themselves at home if they feel they may indeed have coronavirus. Because of this lack of easily-accessible, proper nationwide testing facilities, the Public Health Ministry estimates the actual number of positive cases could be much higher. A survey conducted by the ministry over the summer found that as many as 10 million Afghans may have contracted and recovered from the illness.

As with other countries, several high-profile figures in Afghanistan have tested positive for the illness. This included the former Minister of Public Health, Ferozuddin Feroz, and at least 17 attendees of an August assembly of politicians, leaders and civil society who met in Kabul to discuss a peace deal with the Taliban.

The consensus seems to be that, in Afghanistan, COVID is just one more difficulty that people have to navigate. Since the quarantine first started to loosen in mid-May, at the close of Ramadan, the country, including Kabul, has seen a dramatic rise in targeted killings of journalists, government officials and security forces. There has also been a dramatic rise in the use of IEDs along some of the capital's most heavily-trafficked road.

Sahar Ahmadi, the owner of the Saharpaz restaurant, put it plainly: "Here, we have thousands of other worries. There is still a war. There are rockets being fired in the city. There are suicide bombings and IEDs every step of the way. What's COVID to add to that list?"

But it's not just the decades-long conflict. Ahamdi says for more financially secure Afghans, the rush to resume normal life had as much to do with restlessness as anything.

"In Kabul we don't have 24-hour electricity, we don't have any green spaces for people to gather. There's simply not much to do here other than to go out to eat or shopping."

The 31-year-old, who caught the virus during the quarantine, said many young people like her initially lived in fear of the illness, but as greater numbers of people began to catch it their fears eased.

"In the beginning it was like a boogeyman, but eventually, we all got it and we saw that we survived," Ahmadi said sitting in her restaurant where groups of young people sat next to each other smoking shisha.

Ahmadi went on to say that even her friends who have yet to contract the illness had their fears allayed by their peers who did.

"They saw that we went through some unpleasantness and are back to normal." 

Even at a more humbly-priced eatery where groups of four of five people sit next to each other to eat with their hands from a communal plate of rice, the sentiment is much the same.

Hashmatullah Rahmani, said he too initially feared the disease, going so far as to lock himself in the home for more than three months, but eventually he also decided to return to normal life.

"I looked out the windows and saw the cars and people and thought to myself, 'this is stupid, why should I continue to hide away in the house?'"

The 25-year-old, who admits that he alone knew of dozens of people who caught the illness, said Afghanistan may be a successful case of herd immunity in action.

"When so many people catch it, the collective population's immunity goes up, we all got stronger together. It's like the whole nation was vaccinated through osmosis," Rahmani said sitting next to his friends on a wooden platform.

For those who lack the financial resources, returning to normal life, which includes work, was a necessary.

When Kabul first went under coronavirus lockdown on March 28, Sayed Musa, a short-range minibus driver, wondered how he, the sole breadwinner, would provide for his wife and five children.

Initially, he tried to skirt the law and continue to operate his Toyota Coaster minibus, which transports up to 500 passengers a day at a rate of 13 cents per passenger. He wasn't alone, in the first days of the lockdown, taxis and buses carrying any number of passengers continued to rush through the streets. Many businesses also remained in operation throughout the capital.