Snowy valleys, balloon bikes and a wild game of buzkashi: a different view of Afghanistan – in pictures
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As the son of Afghan refugees, Daniel Malikyar wanted to paint a picture of the country he knew, rather than the one he read about in news headlines
Sarah King
Thu 30 Jul 2026 02.00 EDT
Last modified on Thu 30 Jul 2026 07.39 EDT
Band-e-Amir National Park
After decades of war and unrest, Afghanistan has remained largely invisible to the world. Photographer Daniel Malikyar, the son of Afghan refugees, offers an insight into the beauty of his homeland. During the period 2018 - 2026 Malikyar ventured independently to remote regions and communities that were rarely photographed. As photography in the country is now heavily restricted, the work stands as a unique visual record, challenging stereotypes and celebrating unknown traditions, landscapes, dignity and hope. Afghanistan by Daniel Malikyar is published by teNeues
Omeid
Daniel Malikyar: ‘When the US invaded Afghanistan in 2001 I was six years old. Growing up in America, the war shaped my childhood and the way people saw me. I was called a terrorist before I even understood what that meant. But when I went home, it was something else entirely. As the son of two Afghan refugees, I was surrounded by the beauty of Afghan culture through our history, our food, our music and the stories my family carried with them. Stories of a place full of life, depth and humanity that felt completely disconnected from what most people believed it to be’
Kabul
‘I grew up between two realities, one defined by headlines, and one defined by lived experience, and they never aligned. I had a very close relationship with my grandfather, Omar. I grew up in Los Angeles, and he lived in Virginia, so we would see each other once or twice a year. Every time we were together, he would document it, filming everyday moments, capturing photographs and sometimes even sitting us down for little interviews. He would always send back the tapes and developed film, and it felt like I could step back into those moments through his perspective’
Mazar-i-Sharif
‘Around that same time, my father Daoud read The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini to me. It made me realise that if Afghan stories were told through an authentic lens, people would listen. As a kid, I made a promise to myself. One day, I would return and show the world the Afghanistan I knew through my family, the beauty, the humanity, and the stories that had not been told’
Nangarhar
‘In a rural village in the mountains of eastern Afghanistan, there’s a group of boys who have developed their own sense of style. The village is home to the Pashai people, an ethnic minority with their own language and cultural identity. With no access to the internet and limited resources, they’ve created a visual identity that feels entirely their own. After our initial encounter, I kept going back to visit and photograph the boys. Around the world there are always youth cultures that go against the grain, creating something new, that’s their own’
Zarah, Gul Bahar, Bibima, Wakhan
‘My own family have shaped my understanding of Afghan women as resilient, confident, and quietly powerful. Being able to photograph women in Wakhan in a way that felt true to that meant everything to me. What stayed with me most was the eye contact. There’s an honesty to it that was consistent with everyone I met. In some villages, people had never seen a camera before. There was curiosity, but no hesitation. It always felt collaborative, like we were creating something together’
Pamir
‘I had heard about the sport buzkashi my entire life through stories from my father and my grandfather. It was something I couldn’t wait to experience. When I finally saw it, I knew I didn’t want to photograph it from a distance, I wanted to transmit the feeling from within the game. I positioned myself as close as I could, fully exposed to the speed and unpredictability of it all. At any moment, a horse could change direction, a rider could lose control, and everything could shift instantly. Buzkashi is a spectacle unlike anything else’
Shargha, seven years old, Pamir
I travelled across the country on multiple self-funded journeys with the intention of experiencing it for what it is and documenting what I found along the way. In some places, entire communities had never seen a camera before. In others, I found traditions being carried on that won’t exist for much longer.’ You can read more about this image in My Best Shot
Shams and Nuristan, Winter
‘Winter isn’t something most people associate with Afghanistan. The images that come to mind are usually dust, mountains and sepia tones, not snow-covered landscapes, frozen lakes or villages that feel like they could exist in the Alps. But Afghanistan has four seasons, and winter transforms the country in ways many would never expect. Winter in Afghanistan is unforgiving. The cold is relentless. But at the same time, it reveals something else entirely. A quiet, expansive beauty that feels almost unreal. A side of Afghanistan that most people have never seen’
Wakhan
‘I spent my days walking through villages, meeting families, and documenting life as it unfolded. Children running freely across open land. Women in vibrant clothing. The landscapes are vast and untouched, and in many ways reflect the people who live within them. Their untainted beauty, their openness, and the way they welcome you in without question’
Noor Mohommad and Friends, Kabul
‘This project is my way of giving our people a voice, not through the lens of war, but through their dignity, their beauty and their humanity. A reminder that behind every headline is a reality far more complex and far more human than what we are shown. And that sometimes, all it takes is a shift in perspective to see it’
Hazrat Ali Shrine
‘This work captures a moment in time that will never exist in the same way again. Not because Afghanistan is disappearing, but because it is changing. And with that change, traditions, identities and ways of life begin to fade. Here, a young boy is surrounded by white doves at the Hazrat Ali Shrine in Mazar-i-Sharif. According to local tradition, every bird that visits the shrine eventually turns white. Covered in thousands of hand-painted blue tiles, the mosque is one of Afghanistan’s most revered religious and architectural landmarks’Explore more on these topics