Stories My Grandmother Told Me – 74

A husband and wife in Baderzar took their little daughter to the mountains, and kept her in a cave. They took food and other things for her in that cave but they kept her hidden from the eyes of the other villagers.

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I do not know how long this went on for before she was discovered by a shepherd. The villagers then found out, and soon this news spread to the kharijis working in Sangemasha. The came to the village, and went to the cave where the girl was being kept by her parents. They found out that she had leprosy. The khariji took her to Sangemasha, and then to Karachi in Pakistan for treatment.

People say she received treatment for years in Karachi, and she was cured. In Karachi she met and married another leprosy sufferer from Jaghori. They settled and became rich. The girl’s parents tried to contact her but she kept them out of her life.

Leprosy was the big terror of our days. People thought leprosy sufferers were cursed. They hid the victims or took them to the mountains where they often died and were eaten by wolves, bears and jackals. People who contracted leprosy were considered cursed, their families were cursed, and their villages were cursed. It was terrifying.

When the khariji  doctors first started visiting villages to treat people, some villagers pelted rocks at them, and chased them out of their villages because they did not want others to find out.

The kharijis stayed in Sangemasha for many years and visited all the villages to treat people. They saved many people, and removed the terror of leprosy from our lives.

 

Khariji = Westerners

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Stories My Grandmother Told Me – 15

For a woman to survive life in the mountains, she had to be like a resilient man on the inside. The men beat up their wives over petty things, over nothing, often just to establish their authority, but usually to take out their frustration over other problems. There was nothing the wives could do about it. The villagers and the relatives always sided with the husband. It was a man’s world.

This one time, I was cleaning the cowshed, and I was annoyed that my daughters weren’t giving me a hand. I got cranky and scolded them. Your grandfather heard it. He yelled at me and called me over. I was terrified, and did not go. He broke a few branches off the nearest tree, rushed over to the cowshed, and began flogging me. He kept hitting me until all the sticks had broken into little pieces. I screamed, I cried but in vain. Once he was done, he left me alone.

Later in the day, my brother came over and saw my bloodshot eyes. He inquired if I had been beaten up. I was upset and said nothing. I was scared that if I told him anything, it would result in a fight between the two, and then between the two families, and the loss of my family. He understood and left. I followed him, and later found both of them sitting under a tree and talking. I was glad they were talking. I was upset no more and walked back home happy.

On another occasion, I was preparing a meal when your grandfather stormed in. He yelled at me and told me to stop cooking. I was startled, and didn’t know what was going on. I resumed cooking, but he stopped me. He screamed at me that he had been knocking the door for so long and I hadn’t opened it. He was furious. He took me by my arm, dragged me out, and asked me to leave, and return to my parents. I hesitated but he forced me out. I had to return to my parents. No one came for me. A day later I had to return to my children.

We quickly forgot it each time, and moved on. Your late grandfather was an angry man. He beat me up for minor things. So did all the other men. Often, we did not even know what our fault was.

Moral of the Story: Be good to your wives/partners/each other. If you aren’t, chances are your children will write anecdotes about it.