Abstract

The wind blows south from the Zagros Mountains and Deh Luran (the village of the Lurs) wakes to the overpowering smell of sulphur on a cold winter morning. It is the third time in a week that Abi Garm, the local spring to the north whose sulphurous fumes have even killed unwary bathers, dominates the senses of Deh Luran. Abi Garm cannot be used for drinking; potable water comes from a sweet spring 25 kilometers away, carried in an old truck and sold by the gallon. When it rains the truck gets bogged down in the road across the seasonal swamp and the women of Deh Luran fetch water from temporary rain pools and puddles. Abi Garm is, nonetheless, the reason for Deh Luran's existence. Its brackish waters flow through the village compounds and streets in an anastomosing pattern before irrigating the fields below.

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