October 2005
The weeks passed slowly after our adventure on the mountain. With the end of the harvest, we started planting wheat. Every day was colder than the last, but Abu didn’t turn on the heater. Instead we bundled ourselves up in the thicker blankets and slept together. Abu didn’t talk to me the way he used to, I could tell he was still angry.
Bilal had also been punished, and Uncle Rehmat had stopped sending him to class. On most days, only Jamal and I were there. Every morning, Uncle Drogar would walk in and scowl when he saw us. I could tell he had been hoping for an empty classroom. The days were getting shorter. By the end of class, there was almost no light at all, and Uncle Drogar had lit a candle to light the board. We walked home in the dark, along the familiar road.
It was on one of these early nights that Jamal and I stumbled upon a stranded car. The big jeep, with all of its English writing on it, was covered in dirt. It was tilted strangely, and we realized that one of the tires had shrunk and flattened.
“Isn’t this Uncle Gulzar’s car?” I asked Jamal.
“I think so…”
Uncle Gulzar was a friend of Abu's who gave tours of the area. He often drove by our farm on the way further north.
“Come on, he probably stopped at the farm and asked Abu for help.” I said.
When we reached home, Abu was standing outside talking on his cellphone. “Kamran, are you sure you can’t you send someone tonight?” He saw us and covered the phone with a hand. “Go in and say Salam.”
Uncle Gulzar was sitting on the ground talking with Ami and Mina. I had expected him to have a tourist with him, but the man sitting next to him looked like he was also from Swat.
