Humira Noorestani

Shereen

Spring 1935 – Parun, Nuristan The morning sun’s fingers uncurled over the little village of Parun, in the basin of the river Landay Sin. Ten-year-old Shereen had woken up to the rhythmic pounding of a wooden pestle; her grandmother, Fatima, was grinding barley to bake bread for breakfast. She sleepily rubbed her eyes and watched from her bed as blue smoke rose from the tandoor, the earthen oven. It occupied the center of the large room that served as kitchen and living room for their small family of three.