Citizens Award Donkey as Afghanistan’s Hardest-Working Civil Servant

The Honourable Mr. Khar Markabzadeh was awarded the “Medal of Honest Effort.”

In 2011, in an act of protest, a donkey in Bamiyan was awarded a medal during an official ceremony organized by the Bamiyan Civil Society to criticize governmental neglect. Despite repeated pleas for access to clean drinking water, the government remained indifferent. For centuries, donkeys have been essential to local life, helping deliver water to homes across the region. Honouring their labour, therefore, felt both symbolic and deserved.

A ceremony held in Bamiyan, a single donkey received a medal of appreciation in recognition of his tireless service.

The plaque accompanying the medal bore a heartfelt message from the people, thanking Mr. Markabzadeh for his hard work. It also pointed out how the villages of Bamiyan have long been neglected, and praised the donkeys for helping bring water to every home.

"Honourable Mr. Khar Markabzadeh!

We, the people of Bamiyan, are proud to express our gratitude for your efforts, which have served us, the poor people of Bamiyan villages (who have always been ignored by the high-ranking officials of the country) for many years without expecting any reward. We are grateful for your great help in providing water to every house. We are proud to have presented you with the first plaque of gratitude. We hope that your stomach will always be full of straw and barley, and that you will not forget me like the others.

With respect,

The Bamiyan People."

After the ceremony, people in Bamiyan marched through the streets, protesting and chanting against the government and local authorities. Showing their frustration over years of broken promises and neglected basic needs.

This isn't the first instance where a humorous tactic has been used to shed light on the challenges faced by the Bamiyan people. Abdullah Barat, the founder and leader of the Bamiyan Civil Society, has a reputation for using comedy as a strategic tool to draw attention to the neglect experienced by the Bamiyan community.

In a media landscape where Hazara issues receive minimal coverage, Barat's approach serves as a clever means to capture the media's attention. By injecting humour into his activism, he effectively navigates the often overlooked struggles of his community, ensuring their voices are heard in a way that resonates with a wider audience.

The Afghan News Network reported that, "feeling ignored by their government, the people of Bamiyan chose to honour a khar (khar/donkey commonly used as an insult, denoting the lowest status) rather than public officials for its role in delivering water." Of course it was not received well.

The gesture was unmistakably political and insulting. Among the many controversies surrounding this incident, including backlash from feminist movements due to its proximity to International Women’s Day, even from prominent figures (which cannot be fully addressed here but may be explored in the future), it is unfortunate that the right questions were not asked.

While public attention focused on how “offensive” the demonstration was, this reaction may have deflected from the more obvious and uncomfortable question...

what was done with the aid money?

The answer is quite simple and doesn’t need further investigation, but there are a few details worth pointing out. The common response is that “much of the aid and government money in Afghanistan never reached remote areas like Bamiyan, because funds were often lost to mismanagement in the central government… or… Bamiyan is a mountainous, hard to reach province… smaller or less politically influential areas are often neglected… ongoing conflict meant money was spent on security instead of local needs.” But it is important that we do not fall, or lose ourselves to this trap.

People will go to the ends of the earth for basic necessities, and the Bamiyan Civil Society is a clear example of this. Most of its members are volunteers and did not receive funding from large organizations. Even when they connect with sponsors overseas, they report that delivering aid to their communities is not particularly difficult. Of course, the roads are challenging, and winter brings additional obstacles, but they view their duty as outweighing these difficulties. They are certainly not alone in this commitment, and many have risked their lives. Their leaders have been targeted, kidnapped, and imprisoned, yet they continue their work. In our view, the claim that Bamiyan’s mountainous terrain or that aid was spent on “security reasons” is exactly that: an excuse.

The Hazara populations in Afghanistan have consistently received little to no government support. Each time aid was needed, excuses were given, like security concerns, difficult terrain, lack of access, but these reasons never seemed to apply to the Kuchi tribe, a nomadic Pashtun group (meaning they are known to move seasonally), who received regular funding and government backing during Ashraf Ghani’s administration.

This disparity is particularly troubling given the Kuchi’s long history of forcibly seizing land, including in regions like Bamiyan. The government always found a way to provide for them, while the communities that genuinely needed assistance were systematically ignored or marginalized.

Ethnic favouritism has always been a long standing problem in Afghanistan. Policies that favour one group over others encourage ethnocentrism, which can grow into ethnic nationalism. In the past, Pashtunization included suppressing other languages and cultures, forcing people to learn Pashto, renaming towns, and blocking non Pashtuns from advancing. Even Persian, widely spoken and central to the region’s culture, was renamed Dari, reducing its cultural importance.

The unfair treatment of ethnic groups isn’t just a one time problem; it’s part of a recurring pattern. When the government favours one group, it weakens national unity, keeps old inequalities in place, and builds systemic discrimination. This leaves marginalized communities vulnerable while concentrating power and resources in the hands of a favoured minority.

You have to understand that even though a few members of Parliament were Hazara, many of them still became part of this sick, greedy system. A System that shaped Afghanistan. Now that these officials have fled and settled in Western countries, they repeat the same excuses: we tried our best, some areas were difficult to reach, security was a problem, the system limited us.

Of course, we cannot ignore that they also suffered under this system. I'm sure it was difficult choosing between yourself and others. But refusing to acknowledge the truth will only harm us in the long run. The reality is simple. Delivering aid was not impossible. It was not some heroic challenge. The problem was that we were never truly qualified, never truly committed, and never allowed to build a system that served all Afghans equally.

I want to end with a story I heard from Mr Barat himself, which illustrates how politics in Afghanistan often works.

Abdullah Barat, head of the Bamiyan Civil Society, never sought credit nor wished to be part of a system he considered corrupt. Even this interview was somewhat forced upon him, as he now wishes to live a quiet, peaceful life away from politics.

in the early 2000's, despite being scouted multiple times to serve as the city’s district leader, he consistently refused. The requests became so persistent that one day, when approached again on the street, he remarked, “I’ll find you someone." Then turned around, saw an elderly man he had never met before and said, “Hello, sir, how are you? Would you like to be the district leader?” and just like that, Bamiyan had a new district leader.

I think the lesson is clear, but just in case,

the system does not require committed politicians; it only needs stand-ins.