Sarhad e Broghil: The end of the road

Sarhad e Broghil is quite literally the end of the road: the rock-strewn track peters out amongst this small cluster of mud houses and from there the only way onwards is on horseback or on foot. The buildings are well camouflaged against the hillsides and a heavy rainfall would probably wash them away entirely. Small children with weather-beaten faces wander here and there; I see a small girl towing a bottle on a string behind her as a toy.

In Sarhad the harvest is mostly in - it gets colder here earlier than further down the valley and the snow is already falling on the passes. A creamy yellow stubble colours the fields, accented occasionally with hand-tied ears of grain in orderly piles.

From my perch on the hill I can see two families threshing their crops. In each case half a dozen small donkeys are roped side by side and marched round in circles, crushing the grain beneath their feet. It is time consuming but seemingly effective; even the smallest child can keep the donkey team in check, leaving other people to fork more straw into the threshing circle.