Mel Jones’s piece on female Afghan cricketers in exile originally appeared in the 2026 edition of Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack.

What’s the greatest thing women’s cricket can teach the game? I like to think it’s solidarity. Just before New Zealand flew to India for the 2025 World Cup, I’d had a phone call from their captain, Sophie Devine. “I hear we’re going to meet the Afghan women’s team,” she said. “What can I do to make them feel valued?” I told her that simply meeting her and the team was going to make them feel pretty special. But Devine wasn’t satisfied. She wanted these players to know they were important, and valued. So when the teams met up in Bengaluru, she presented their captain, Nahida Sapan, with a pikorua – the jade pendant that symbolises connection and friendship in Maori culture. It was leadership beyond the pitch. And, I can tell you, tears were shed.

The Afghan women weren’t competing in India, but their visit was a sign of how far things have progressed. Five years ago, they fled their homeland after the Taliban returned to power and threatened retribution and violence to women involved in all manner of activities, including sport. Today, these same refugees – who found new homes in Australia, Canada and the UK – are a cricketing entity recognised by the ICC.

It has been a long and emotional journey. I still remember the first time the majority of the players were reunited after their escape from Afghanistan. As a surprise, we had flown the girls who had been settled in Melbourne to meet their team-mates in Canberra. The moment they saw each other in the park was like a scene from Game of Thrones, where two armies run at each other – you could almost hear the bodies clash as they met.

When they arrived in Australia, the federal authorities had assigned them housing; most of those in Melbourne gravitated towards multicultural Dandenong, which has a stronger Afghan community. Some families found themselves in Caulfield, where the Jewish community rallied round. The welcome and generosity went beyond supporting their cricket – as soon as we put out Facebook requests for everything from furniture to a sewing machine, the donations arrived, to help them get on their feet.

That’s been one the most soul-satisfying parts of it all – their arrival in Australia has touched people in different ways. In Mumbai one day, I bumped into someone who plays at the Carnegie Cricket Club, back in Melbourne, which a number of the Afghan players had joined. He told me with a sense of pride that it had changed the club’s dynamic in an amazing way, the reciprocal community spirit clearly evident.

Of all the challenges they’ve had to overcome living in exile, communication is among the biggest. Some had very limited English, or none at all, when they arrived, but through language courses they’ve literally and figuratively found their voice. They are becoming so much more confident in conversation, in telling their stories and delivering their message. In September 2024, seam bowler Firooza Afghan opened TED’s first sports conference, in Indianapolis – a 12-minute talk with no autocue, in front of a packed house, and a global audience. She nailed it. There was a standing ovation, both for her delivery and for those she represented.

Some are forging paths into other areas of cricket – like Firooza Amiri, who is using her media skills in commentary, or Ekil Latifi and Shazia Zazai, who are involved in coaching. Others are using the qualifications they’ve gained, whether in school or further education, to move into areas such as childcare and health. And there has been plenty to celebrate in their personal lives. We’ve had a couple of marriages, and one of the players is now a mum – Halima Noori’s baby daughter, Aqsa, accompanied her to the women’s World Cup in India. If you believe in fairy tales, Aqsa could one day lead an Afghanistan women’s team to their first World Cup.

That India trip was important for many reasons. With so much politics involved, getting the Afghan team recognised and supported by the cricketing authorities has not been easy. In April, the ICC finally announced a direct fund which will support their cricket development with a high-performance programme and tours; the boards of India, England and Australia will all contribute to its delivery.

Six months later, 18 players gathered – from Australia, Canada and the UK – for a two-week training camp at India’s National Cricket Academy in Bengaluru. They didn’t have an easy start. Severe turbulence over the Bay of Bengal resulted in one of the girls going to hospital with a broken tooth; others, some of whom had left Afghanistan in cargo planes, suffered anxiety attacks. But there was huge excitement when they saw the facilities – the swimming pool, the suite of pitches, the monster gym. The BCCI had pulled out all the stops and, under the direction of VVS Laxman, the players had elite-level female and male coaches who put them through their paces from day one.

For those whose experience and skills were limited, it was an eye-opener. They had never been involved in high-performance before: they were screened and fitness-tested, and had one-on-one sessions with specialist coaches. They were exhausted every night. But each morning they came back as energetic as if it was the first day. The icing on the jawari was a chance to put their learnings into an end-of-camp match, in which they beat a local representative side. They have had so few opportunities to play together that to see them collectively in Afghan colours, beaming but focused, was sheer delight. It was a special moment to be wearing their playing uniform with the logo they designed themselves, which incorporates both the national flowers of Afghanistan and Australia – the tulip and the wattle. Just having “Afghan” on their shirt is an act that goes beyond words. It evokes such raw feelings of pride and identity, and mends the disconnection they feel from their homeland. That is something money can’t buy.

They enjoyed, too, being in a country whose large Muslim and Urdu-speaking population felt culturally familiar: it made them feel closer to home. There was a fantastic moment in the World Cup’s first game, between India and Sri Lanka, when Shreya Ghoshal, one of India’s most prolific and influential playback singers, arrived in the hospitality box after singing the anthem. The cricketers, who were guests, had grown up listening to Ghoshal in Afghanistan, and they absolutely lost their marbles when they met her. She was generous with her time.

I can’t pretend to know what it’s like for them, exiled from their homeland at a young age. There is clearly a significant emotional and psychological toll; it can even affect the team dynamic. While players were able to bring close family members with them – we brought just over 130 to Australia in total – most of their friends and relatives are still living under the Taliban. A fair percentage of the girls’ earnings go back home to them. Some have family who are now refugees elsewhere in the world, and those with relatives in Iran had the awful experience last year of seeing the country bombed. Trauma is triggered regularly.

From the moment we first took steps to get them out of Afghanistan, we’ve often worried and wondered about what we were doing, and what the consequences might be. For the first 18 months after their arrival, I received random phone messages from Afghan numbers suggesting there were some still trying to keeping tabs on our activities.

The security and welfare of the players’ relatives who are still in Afghanistan remain an issue – some of the group must continue to use new names, and stay under the radar. It’s no exaggeration to say lives are at stake. Some have already lost brothers, sisters or parents to violence. And we’re still contacted by others who want help getting out. But that is nigh-on impossible now.

The big question for us is: what next? We have a programme and a budget for the once-contracted Afghanistan women players that lasts until a tour of England around the women’s T20 World Cup in June. But we need to set up a governance structure that allows them not to watch global events, but to compete in them. That would probably involve regional qualifiers here in Australia.

The current group of players, most of them in Australia, are not the team they were five years ago, the women who signed contracts with the Afghanistan Cricket Board. Ultimately, we need a structure and pathway that are sustainable. If that involves a global trial process, there would be big questions to answer, such as whether you can identify as an Afghan woman if you weren’t born there.

There’s no doubt how much these women, who I’ve been lucky enough to get to know, love their homeland. They’re passionate about anything to do with Afghanistan – including the men’s team – and they would love to return home if it were possible. They’re also now living in circumstances that have opened them up to new influences and experiences allowing them the opportunity, if they choose, to challenge the way they think, be that religious custom or personal relationships. Back home, there was no choice over wearing the hijab, but in Australia it’s up to them. Some choose not to wear it when they play, others do. Regardless, their sense of faith is unwavering. What an honour to be allowed to listen in on these conversations.

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is how much we all need to get out of our own bubble. I see myself as quite a curious and well-travelled person, but there’s so much of the world you just don’t know about until you sit down with people like this. Our conversations have regularly exploded my mind.

I’ve also learned a new realm of possibility. If you put your mind to it, you really can help change things for the better. The way women in cricket have worked together to help these players is extraordinary – from Sharda Ugra, the Indian journalist who messaged me about a player she was mentoring, to see if I could do anything, to Emma Staples and Dr Catherine Ordway, who were the trusted colleagues I worked with in getting the women to Australia in the first place. Their connections, skills, tenacity and compassion combined to pull off a miracle.

The number of women who have supported us demonstrates the power of their presence in, and contribution to, cricket. So many times when we’ve picked up the phone – to administrators, coaches and players – they just get where we’re coming from, and instinctively know how to help. The solidarity is real and powerful. And cricket is lucky to have it.

Mel Jones, who helped the Afghan women escape the Taliban, played five Tests and 61 one-day internationals for Australia. She was talking to Emma John.

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