In early May 1994, we arrive in Kabul. The city is located on a high plateau, and the heat is less stifling than in the other cities through which we passed. The wind is strong and the air filled with dust.
From time to time, I can hear gunfire in the distance, but the fighting front has shifted to the northern areas and the situation is stable enough for the moment in the capital.
When talking about the war, we think of soldiers, bombs, shootings, we imagine blocked roads, destroyed bridges, collapsed buildings in streets where disoriented people wander.
It is true, combat zones are terrifying. But there are also places were none of this exists, places very close from these combat zones. These are places where buildings are still standing, where people live, waiting for the war to end. People from different backgrounds and different social classes, all gathered in these makeshift shelters.
Almost all schools are occupied by these thousands of refugee families who fled the bombarded neighborhoods of the city. Classrooms are divided into several rooms by hanging simple sheets. There is no privacy, no work, and very little humanitarian aid.
This series of pictures is a tribute to the memory of all these men, women and children who have lived for years in fear and misery, their only weapon being determination and the hope that one day the war would come to an end.