How Ahmad enjoyed the hills and fields and trees, the flowers and birds and butterflies. A little brook ran down the valley and on either side were cornfields and orchards and gardens, as many as the brook could provide water for. And at night Ahmad would hear the shouting, as ‘Ali Muhammad declared that Husain had had his fair share of water and now it was his turn to have it for his orchard. For water is very precious in Persia, and must be made the greatest possible use of, day and night alike.
But the little children who live in the village are not so fortunate as little Ahmad. They work all the summer at gardening, shepherding, and other work; but in winter they have to stay in, and they live upstairs and their sheep and goats downstairs. But the stairs are outside and sometimes it is too cold for them even to go down to feed the animals. If they can they make a little fire of sticks in the oven, which is only a deep, round hole in the floor, and when the flame has died down they sit round with their legs hanging into the oven and cover over the opening to keep it warm as long as possible. One very severe winter there was a report current in the town that in this village the water was all frozen and that the animals were dying because there was not enough fuel to melt the ice and give them water. The poor children must have had a very hard time that winter.
Even in the town Ahmad is one of the fortunate children. Little Soghra had a very different home. She lived with her grandmother in a single small room. The floor was mud, covered in one place by a small ragged piece of coarse matting. On this the grandmother lay, for she was old and ill. The bedclothes were filthy and torn. One side of the room was filled with a pile of pomegranate skins, which are used for making dye, and there were several fowls wandering about. There was no furniture, nothing but a few old pots and cups and a waterbottle. And yet Soghra was a cheery little girl, and she and her grandmother were very fond of each other.
CHAPTER III
PERSIAN BABIES
A Persian baby—what a funny little mortal! It looks for all the world like a little mummy, rolled up in handkerchiefs and shawls till only its little face peeps out, and tied up with a long strip of braid exactly like a parcel tied up with string. Hasn’t it got any arms and legs? Oh, yes, safely put away inside all those wrappings and put away carefully too—straightened out and rolled up so thoroughly that it will stand up stiff and straight against the wall though it is only a week old.
How surprised and shocked the Persian mothers are to see the English babies kicking and throwing their arms about. “O Khanum, aren’t you afraid its limbs will grow crooked? Why don’t you bind them straight? Aren’t you afraid its legs will get broken if you leave them loose like that?”
So at its very start on life’s journey the poor little Persian baby is checked and prevented from growing up properly; for how can its little legs grow strong without kicking? It is no wonder that Persian babies as a rule learn to walk much later than English babies.
But perhaps the Persians are not quite so foolish as they seem when they roll their babies up in these stiff little bundles. Very likely the little arms and legs would be broken or bent if they were left loose, for many of the Persian mothers are very young—much too young to know how to look after babies. They often treat them like dolls and would very likely break them just as English girls break their dolls.