The Refugee

T he living are as much casualties as the dead. Bibi is one of the thousands of innocent people who have been forced to flee their homes as the bombing of Taliban targets continues in the "war against terrorism". Hers is a terrible tale.

"The bombs started falling from the sky," she recalls. "My husband ran outside to find our son and then he screamed. I ran to the door. He and my son were lying dead. The rest of us left when the fighting had stopped. We just wanted to get away from the bombs and the killing."

Severely traumatised by her experiences, Bibi left the remote Afghan village of Naarin with her five remaining children and travelled south. "I just wanted to reach the safety of a camp, but now we are here there is nothing." Tears are streaming down her face.

The refugee camps in Afghanistan and northern Pakistan are bleak places. The noise, dust and smells are overwhelming. Open sewers run between makeshift tents and shelters. Temperatures at night plummet below freezing. Families sleep on floors, crammed together for warmth.

Bibi is one of the nearly seven million people displaced by the fighting who are now searching desperately for food and shelter. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees has nearly met its target of raising $268m to aid refugees from Afghanistan. The World Food Programme, however, has only just met its target, set before 11 September, of delivering 37,000 tons of wheat a month. Since the bombing campaign began, thousands more people need help. And distribution poses huge dangers: land mines, bandits and bombing severely disrupt relief efforts.

For many, like Bibi, there is little hope that they will be able to return home before winter comes. Most refugees do not have the money for the journey – and so many houses have been destroyed that often there is little to go back to.