The first month of a winter is Siyabar. It is very cold. Before that came Baamo, the last month of autumn. Baamo was cold, but not nearly as cold as Siyabar. After Siyabar came Najir. In this month, the air was less cold, but with less cold came dangerous avalanches. The village was at the foot of the Jaaba mountain. The collapsing snow brought down huge slabs of rock down with it, and made a terrifying “GorrrrrR” sound. The valley was steep enough to contain it but anything and everything that came in its way was wiped out.
After Najir it was Ooral with flowing springs, blooming flowers and the change in the air – the month of Nowroz. Then it was the month of Ed, the first proper month of spring. Then Barredd, and it became warmer. Then it was Aakhir Maahe Baar. Then Awal Maahe Thaayesto – the mulberry season, and when the birds flocked to pick the trees clean. It made us all very busy. We had to wait for the right time to pick the trees before the birds. Then it was Ghol-e-Thaayesto – the apricot season. Then Thirmaa brought a cool and ugly change in the air. It was followed by Aakhire Thirma and we prepared for the snow.
Jaghori used to get many refugees from Uruzgan. I do not recall whether they were fleeing Pashtuns or the civil war or both, but they used to arrive in groups of many families.
I used to speak to the ones who passed through the village. They had stories to tell. Many said they had land and livelihoods, and they had all been taken over by Kochis. Others had fled because of the wars among the mullahs. Some had even left behind their daughters or young children, unable to carry them over the mountains. They had fled on donkeys and horsebacks, walking through the mountains for days before arriving in Sang-e-Masha.
When the refugees from Uruzgan first arrived in Jaghori, donkeys and their clothes were all they had. They were in tatters. Some people of Jaghori mocked them for having nothing but donkeys.
They were not impressed:
We have arrived with donkeys, but at least we have them. When your turn comes, you won’t even have donkeys to flee on.
Ten years later it happened. When the war came and the people of Jaghori had to flee, many did not even have their own donkeys to flee on. They had nothing but the clothes on their bodies, just like the people of Uruzgan.