The Kuchis came to the hills every year. They spent the entire summer in the area. They ate from our orchards, claimed their right on the crops, ate our food and at times, stayed at our homes. Their cattle and camels grazed all over our land, while they grazed all over our homes and livelihood.
One hot summer day, the girls were getting mulberries from the tree when they dropped a full container.
“Ay khag da sar e Awgho!” (Damn the awgho!), I exclaimed.
Bakhtawar Awgho, who I did not know was up the next mulberry tree, heard me.
“Khag bar sar e Hazara! Khagbar sar e Hazara! Khag bar sar e Hazara!” (Damn the Hazara!)
I was taken aback. I panicked and dropped all the mulberries. I huddled my girls together, and rushed back home.
Bakhtawar Awgho, Sher Jan and Sahib Jan came from Rasna. They were not nice people. They did all they wanted in the summer. They barged into our homes when they wanted. They demanded food, took our belongings, and beat up anyone who resisted. They had the support of the government. We despised them, but were too afraid and too weak to ever say anything.
In the Autumn the Kuchis returned home, only to return the following summer. Then came the war, and mehrbani khuda, they stopped coming. May be that was the one good thing about the war.