Gul Bahar leads some of her family ' s livestock back to the corral near their home in the evening.
tion 315, all their lives.“ If not Wakhan, then where?” Darwaish joked. The farthest he has ever been from home is Baharak, an eight to 10-hour drive, but only about 135 miles as the crow flies. His wife has never left the Wakhan.
j 5: 30 a. m. i
THE SUN IS JUST RISING when Rurung’ s schoolchildren scramble down the mountain to the road. They set out for school in a group, kicking up dust as they walk purposefully eastward toward the rising sun.
The students get school uniforms courtesy of CAI, but the kids are hard on their clothes and the wear and tear shows. They wear what shoes they have, and those shoes are generally poorly made, plastic, and too big or too small. Their book bags and backpacks are purely functional; stitched and patched together with rough wool thread to extend their usability.
Even at this early hour, children pass farmers and shepherds working in fields and pastures along the Wakhan River.
In Gul Bahar’ s family, everyone helps produce the wheat and barley, but it is still only enough to feed the family for two months. When necessary, Darwaish sells goats and sheep for money. His wife and daughters sew the family’ s clothes by hand; nobody in the village has a sewing machine. The twins and their mother bring the water from a local spring.
Gul Bahar’ s family is small by local standards. Her parents had five children, but one son and one daughter died,“ and then my wife didn’ t get pregnant again, otherwise we would have more children,” Darwaish said.“ I thought about getting another wife, but [ Khushnuma ] wouldn’ t let me.”
But they make it work. In addition to farming,“ when there is work on road, or river, or cleaning jungle [ local translation for thick brush ], I do that,” Darwaish said. And he makes a little money as a middleman for the traders. Because their house is closest to the road— albeit up a nearly vertical hill—“ traders come here and give me 100 bags of flour and ask me to sell to the people. I get 50 afganis [ about 90 cents ] for every bag I sell.”
Changing a family’ s economic status is just one motive for education here— but it’ s a big one.
About halfway to school, the Rurung kids have to cross the river. The Aga Khan Foundation( AKF) built a walking bridge about 10 years ago, strung on cables with wood planks and a bit of a sway. It’ s wide enough for livestock, but not for vehicles.
After crossing the bridge, the kids still have to walk about two miles to the school. Along this stretch of the walk, other students from nearby Khankan village join them on the dusty riverside path.
Just before reaching the school, they cross a stream, jumping from rock to rock or traversing a wood plank perched like a balance beam over the frigid water.
And then: there’ s the school. The students enter a gate into the schoolyard and, if
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