There are fewer and fewer stories coming out of the land of my birth. Before, I would open Instagram and see my cousins, lip-syncing to trending videos, posing with flowers at a rose garden or at a trendy cafe in their coolest outfits, keeping a record of their lives. I would hear British-Afghan friends talk about their recent trips to the provinces, towns and cities of their foremothers and the buzz of learning about their heritage. I would eagerly await the latest music video from Afghanistan’s many pop stars, all vying to become the hottest track played at weddings, not just in Afghanistan but all over the world. Afghanistan, its culture, and people felt closer back then.

Five years ago today, the brittle peace of the fragile new democracy was shattered by the withdrawal of western military, diplomatic and charitable groups that had intervened in the country’s fate since 2001. Overnight, on Sunday, 15 August 2021, Afghanistan was undone and abandoned.

I spent the rest of the month glued to my phone, monitoring WhatsApp groups sprouting every day or so, with people asking for information and help, begging me to get them out of the country because we all knew what was coming, though the rest of the world seemed to lag behind.

I was most focused on evacuating one friend from Kabul. She was a headteacher, and it was always her house I would go to first, whenever I went to Afghanistan. I had to have achingly tough phone conversations with her. “You can’t bring your children or your husband. I can only do this for you,” I said. She would agree. “I think I can get you to Albania or Qatar, but you might be in a refugee camp for months or........

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