Afghan returnees face uncertainty after mass deportation from Pakistan

Pakistan's expulsion of Afghan migrants disrupts lives as families return to a homeland many have never known.

Afghan refugees facing deportation to Afghanistan wait with their belongings outside a holding center near the Pakistan-Afghanistan border in Chaman on April 22, 2025. Photo by Abdul Basit/AFP

By Anna Fadiah and Hayu Andini

Fifteen-year-old Nazmine Khan sat under the blistering sun in a makeshift tent at a border camp, her first real encounter with the land her parents once fled. Born in Pakistan, she had never seen Afghanistan until now. Like many Afghan returnees deported from Pakistan, her return was not by choice but by force.

“We never thought we would return to Afghanistan,” Khan said quietly. The tears she shed when her parents broke the news still linger in her voice. She doesn’t know what lies ahead, only that the freedoms she once knew will likely disappear.

Pakistan has ramped up efforts to expel Afghan nationals, both documented and undocumented. Accusing them of links to drugs and terrorism, Islamabad launched a sweeping campaign in March to deport hundreds of thousands of Afghans. Since April 1, more than 100,000 Afghan returnees have crossed back into Afghanistan, according to Pakistani officials. The United Nations estimates around three million Afghans had been living in Pakistan, many for decades.

For families like Khan’s, whose roots in Pakistan date back to the 1960s, the forced return is a sudden upheaval. She and her siblings—four brothers and a sister—were all born in Pakistan and have little to no connection with Afghanistan. “In a few days, we’ll look for a place to rent in Nangarhar,” she explained in Urdu, a language widely spoken in Pakistan but foreign in much of Afghanistan. Like many returnees, she doesn’t speak Pashto or Dari.

Inside the tent they temporarily call home, basic necessities are absent. No mattress, no blankets—just thin cloth and a few cushions. Flies hover constantly, and children in tattered clothes drift in and out.

A life in limbo for Afghan returnees

Nazmine Khan’s future is as unclear as her present. She dropped out of school in Pakistan, and under the Taliban’s education restrictions, any hope of resuming her studies is all but lost. Since reclaiming power in 2021, Taliban authorities have prohibited girls from receiving education beyond the primary level. Women are also banned from most public spaces and professions, part of what the United Nations has described as "gender apartheid."

Khan’s brief exposure to Afghan life came through news from Punjab, her home province in Pakistan, where she learned that in Afghanistan, “there are not the same freedoms.”

Her story echoes that of tens of thousands of Afghan returnees deported from Pakistan. Stripped of home and stability, they are stepping into an Afghanistan they barely recognize—or have never known.

Aid efforts strain to meet returnees' needs

In Omari camp, not far from the Torkham border crossing, the non-governmental organization Islamic Relief has established around 200 tents for returning families. Ibrahim Humadi, the group’s program lead, says many arrivals stay beyond the permitted three days because they have nowhere else to go.

“It is now a new life... and they are starting this with very little utilities, belongings, cash, or support,” said Humadi. Even if some families have ancestral ties in the eastern province of Nangarhar or cities like Kabul, they return to communities already suffering from Afghanistan’s deepening economic crisis.

According to the UN Development Programme, about 85 percent of Afghans live on less than one dollar per day. Jobs are scarce, and public services are threadbare. Humanitarian agencies have warned that Afghanistan remains one of the world’s most urgent and underfunded crises.

Jalil Khan Mohamedin, a 28-year-old returnee, has packed his family’s meager possessions—quilts, fans, and bed frames—onto a truck headed for Kabul. Sixteen relatives are making the journey with him, though they have no assurance of shelter or work in the capital. “We had never seen Afghanistan in our lives,” Mohamedin admitted. “We do not know if we can find work, so we are worried.”

Unprepared reception in Afghanistan

Despite Taliban claims of developing new towns for returnees, the reality on the ground tells a different story. At a designated resettlement area near Torkham, the International Organization for Migration (IOM) found only a few cleared roads winding through a barren, rocky plain. There was no water, no electricity, no clinics, and no schools.

“There needs to be greater clarity on whether these sites are truly viable,” said Avand Azeez Agha, an IOM communications officer. “It’s essential that returnees are making informed decisions and that their relocation to these townships is voluntary.”

While the Taliban claim to be building infrastructure for returnees, independent observers and aid groups note the lack of planning and readiness. With no formal housing, education, or healthcare in place, returnees face not just physical displacement but social and economic marginalization.

Broken families, broken dreams

The toll of forced return extends beyond logistics. For many, it tears apart families. Dilawar Khan, Nazmine’s older brother, is still reeling from the emotional cost. Born in Pakistan 25 years ago, he left behind a life, a job as a truck driver, and a wife who refused to follow him to Afghanistan. She asked for a divorce.

“When we crossed the border, we felt like going back,” Dilawar said. “Then after a day it felt fine. But we still don’t understand. We were only working.”

His confusion reflects the sentiments of many Afghan returnees deported from Pakistan. These individuals didn’t flee Afghanistan; they were born in Pakistan, raised in its culture, and built lives there. Their removal has not only disrupted their futures but fractured their sense of belonging.

A looming humanitarian crisis

As more Afghans cross into a country mired in crisis, international aid agencies warn that the situation could spiral into a full-blown humanitarian disaster. Resources are scarce, local communities are overwhelmed, and donor fatigue is setting in.

For now, thousands of families like the Khans remain in limbo—rootless, stateless, and uncertain. Their return to Afghanistan is marked not by homecoming, but by hardship and fear.

The stories of Afghan returnees deported from Pakistan underline a growing crisis that the world can no longer afford to ignore. With every passing day, more lives are upended and more futures are cast into darkness.