I came across tiny Hamid Ullah in a filthy, rundown hospital in the southern Pakistan town of Quetta, near the border with Afghanistan, on October 25th last. The one-year-old boy's fragile little frame was covered in shrapnel wounds. Lying on soiled sheets, his face was twisted in pain. Flies buzzed around his scarred body and in between fits of crying, he sucked on his hand, writes Miriam Donohoe.
Hamid's mother, Radidigul, lay semi-conscious in the next bed, barely aware of her son's distress. Her face was swollen and she had difficulty breathing. Every so often she would let out a roar. Around her, nurses and doctors, working with the most primitive of equipment, tended to wounded patients.
Hamid and his mother were among the first civilian victims of the US bombing campaign in Afghanistan. They came from Tarin Kannt, near the Afghanistan city of Kandahar. Two nights before I visited the hospital, American planes, in pursuit of the Taliban leader Mullah Omar, offloaded bombs on their village. Twenty-two people were killed, including Hamid's father, four brothers and sisters.
About a dozen wounded were brought over the border to Pakistan to be treated. Hospital staff said Radidigul's injuries were not fatal, but they were not as optimistic about little Hamid's chances. While they were able to help ease Radidigul's physical pain, there was nothing they could do to help her cope with the pain of the loss of her husband and children.
Hamid's family did not support the Taliban, but still the American bombs came and wiped out their homes. Initially the Pentagon denied that there were any civilian casualties from that bombing on Tarin Kannt. It only owned up after news organisations, including The Irish Times, told the stories of the wounded to the world.
The depressing scenes from that hospital have stayed with me since and I often wonder what ever became of little Hamid. Did he make it, or did he die? And what of his mother? Did she recover and is she living back in Tarin Kannt, now that the Taliban are gone?
It is almost one year since the horrific events of September 11th, and the hype over the anniversary is well underway. Newspapers are planning mega coverage of the event. Time magazine has devoted its entire current issue to 9/11 and TV channels are already broadcasting nightly documentaries. Next Wednesday people all over the world will down tools and remember one of the blackest days in modern history. In Ireland, the Taoiseach will lead the nation in a minute's silence.
But while our hearts will be with the families and friends of the 3,000 or so people who lost their lives in the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, who will be thinking of the estimated 9,000 innocent civilians who died during the intense and sustained military campaign launched by the US and its allies in Afghanistan? And of the millions of living Afghans who are struggling in their devastated country today? They are the forgotten victims of September 11th. The United Nations last week released a "hunger assessment" report which revealed that six million Afghans, more than were endangered a year ago, face starvation this winter.
A combination of overdue donor funds and continued political instability has resulted in a serious shortage of food supplies. Attacks by bandits are making it increasingly difficult for aid workers to get to vulnerable, remote villages. The Afghan leader, Hamid Karzai, is losing his grip as warlords fight for control all over the country: he escaped an apparent assassination attempt yesterday. Analysts in Washington and Europe fear the deteriorating situation threatens the new government in Kabul, where a car bomb killed people yesterday.
One big problem has been the unexpected return of 1.5 million refugees from Pakistan. Much of the aid that has reached Afghanistan in the past year has been spent on coping with the new influx. And there are now real fears that winter could trigger a new crisis.
The 23 years of war destroyed more than half the houses in the Afghan capital of Kabul and the city still lacks basic services like clean water, garbage disposal and electricity. Returning refugees have swelled the city's population from 1.2 million to 2.3 million in just six months.
The United Nations' special representative to the country, Lakhdar Brahimi, has warned there was no room for complacency, "neither for the people of Afghanistan or for their friends".
Last January at a donor conference in Tokyo the world community pledged $1.8 billion to help reconstruct war-torn Afghanistan. The Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr Cowen, represented Ireland at the meeting. We did our bit, pledging €12 million over the next three years. But eight months on only $570 million of the promised and much-needed funds has arrived, and two-thirds of that has been spent on short-term aid rather than rebuilding schools, roads and hospitals.
The United States is making a big deal out of the fact that it has honoured its Tokyo pledge of $280 million to Afghanistan. But that figure is dwarfed by the cost of keeping US troops in the country, estimated to be a staggering $10 billion this year. And the overall "war on terrorism" carries a price tag of about $1.8 billion per month. The $280 million pledged by the US pales into insignificance compared to what it is spending on its anti-terrorism campaign. Next Wednesday, when we remember those who perished on September 11th, don't forget Hamid, and the thousands who died in shattered Afghanistan last winter.