ABSTRACT
When Farida could no longer summon the energy to boil rice for dinner or pin laundry to the lines that sagged along the hand-slapped mud walls of her family compound, her husband drove her to Mazar-e-Sharif and checked her into one of the handful of Afghanistan’s mental healthcare facilities: the pale blue, four-story Alemi Neuropsychiatric Hospital, a private clinic that greets its mostly illiterate visitors with posters that proclaim, in English and Dari: “No health Without Mental health” and “No Entry With Weapon.”
