September 2005
Night in the valley was dark and peaceful. Frigid in the winter and chilly in the summer. You didn’t see the moon too often; it hid behind mountains. Enormous black silhouettes, jagged and uneven and never the same as one another. But I had all of their shapes memorized. The colour and outline of their rocks. The trees, all of the different types and where they were on the hill, which way they leaned from being blown by the wind.
So even at night, I could look at a mountain and see it as clear as day. I could imagine the path I would take to the top, long and winding and never obvious. Of course, I couldn’t actually do it. I’d get tired half way up the smallest ones. Once you were actually on the mountain, it loomed over you a million times bigger than it was from a distance.
My favourite nights were when Abu gathered wood and started a fire in the clearing in front our house; the same place where he slaughtered chickens and goats. I would watch as blood ran down the little gutter he’d dug out and drip into the rushing river, disappearing in the blue and white of the rapids. I’d listen as the animal kicked and struggled and shrieked, trying to escape even as it bled out. The entire time, Abu would hold it down and pray. But that was a daytime thing. It never happened at night. After dinner, after the blood had dried into the ground, Abu would start his fire.
Then Jamal, Mina and I would go into our house and into the biggest room, the one with rugs and pillows on which we all sat on cold nights. We’d call out “Nano, are you awake?”
She would reply, “Oh, come here come here.” And we’d run to her to be kissed and hugged.
Then Mina would say “Nano, come outside! Abu's starting a fire!”
Nano would laugh and say “Sorry Mina my love, but I can’t walk.”
And then I’d say “We’ll take you!” Mina would find an extra blanket to keep her warm and all three of us would carry her charpai through the door and set it down close to the fire.
Once the fire was bright enough, Uncle Rehmat would walk from his farm down the road with Bilal running in front. They’d come sit with us. Uncle on the other charpai with Abu and Bilal on the ground with the rest of us. Ami wouldn’t come until much later; she always had to put Maryam to sleep. Maryam was only one, so she slept a lot.
