PukhtunWomen

There was a story that we would tell around the fire during the long drizzling rains of Swat winters, when there was no electricity and our only entertainment was the telling of tales. The story I am about to tell you is unique because everyone contributes to it, but the beginning is always the same.

There once was a man who left the valley of Swat to go for the Hajj, it was in the times when people had to travel by foot.

So the story goes that this man set out with a group of other men and after performing the Hajj, he started his journey back home. On reaching the Malakand pass, he stopped to rest at the Masjid near the tunnel. (This masjid is no longer there, it was destroyed during a rock slide after heavy rains). As it happened, in the masjid was a paracha (trader) from his village, who was on his way to Peshawar to trade. Recognizing each other they embraced and the trader congratulated him on performing the Hajj. The man in return asked if all was well in the village and what had happened since he had left.

To this the paracha replied, “To think of it, nothing much has happened since you left, and the only news I can think of that you probably dont know of is that one of the village dogs died. I am not sure if you remember her, but she was kind of brown and black, well she died”.

“I remember her very well”. said the man. “I myself would throw her a morsel every now and then when we were eating. How did she die?”

She died after eating burnt meat.

Burnt meat?

Yes, burnt meat from your horse.
.
My horse, why was my horse burnt?

Actually, your horse was burnt, because your barn was on fire.

How did the barn catch fire?

Well, the barn caught fire from some sparks that the wind blew from your burnt house?

My burnt house, well how did that happen?

Your house caught fire when your daughter tried to torch out the mouse from the rafters of your house.

Why did she do that?

The mouse was eating the food right under the noses of the guests that were mourning.

Why were the guests mourning?

They were mourning because your wife died.

My wife died? How in the world did she die?

She died when your son fell off the mountain.

My son fell off the mountain?

Well, he slipped he fell into a ravine and broke his leg, but when they told your wife that, she just collapsed and died.

My son fell off the mountain?

And so the story would go on and on and on until we could think of no more misfortunes to befall the poor man.