A low-key picture of a child’s life in Bamiyan, at the moment one of the war-torn country’s quieter areas.
Though present in a wistful, ex-soldier uncle who has lost his legs and the arrival of a family of cousins who have lost their home, the war seems far away to young Habiba as she describes a day’s routines. She rises before dawn to fetch water, enjoys a breakfast of khojur before helping to get the sheep to pasture and then continues on to an outdoor school. She introduces Aaba (mother), Aata (father) and other members of her family, shares an evening meal, then beds down with her cousins and reflects on how warm and safe she feels. “I am happy to be right here,” she concludes. Her narrative, in English and Dari (the local dialect, written in script), accompanies staid collages constructed from painted papers and fuzzed-out color photos and highlighted by the brightly patterned robes and head scarves worn by girls and women. Along with providing background information on setting and local culture, bilingual closing notes identify Habiba and her family as members of the ethnic Hazara minority, but, like other titles in the I See The Sun In… series, this is more about commonalities of feeling and experience than cultural differences.