Your baabaye disappeared on his way to Iran. We waited for years for his return. He never returned. We assume he died somewhere in the desert.
After him, we had to live through some dreadful years. We were left with a little food, no savings, and no idea what to do about it. Your father was only thirteen, and the eldest male. He had to support our big family.
People from the village knew we couldn’t farm the land. They got together and promised us supplies and support. Most never delivered. A few good men did. Aatay GhulamLi was a lifesaver. He got us the cows for the plow. Aatay Ali Jafar helped us farm the land. Others brought us food and firewood. The harvest that year was very small. We had to give away most of it to the people who we owed money to. The little bit that was left, helped us survive.
*baabaye = Hazaragi for Grandfather