Photo by: Mohammad Dargalayi

“My grandfather, Haji Kakamin, built it in 1927. Back then, this was empty land. But he had a vision, and the land slowly reshaped itself to fit that dream.”

Before the mill took physical form, engineers and designers from a British company came, mapped the layout, and brought in machines – the core of the operation.

Most machines of this age would have expired, fallen silent, or ended up stored in museums. But Mam Khidr’s mill has defied time, not only surviving, but thriving through the years.

“In 2016, 2018, and 2021. A team of 16 people, including the company’s general manager. They offered us £3.8 million to buy the whole mill and take it back to the UK where it came from.”

And yet, every time they came, they left with the same answer: an emphatic “No,” Zana explains.

The secret to how the mill has survived a century of hard work, war, and change perhaps lies in the skills and experience of the owners.

More significantly, perhaps the heart of the operation was Mam Khidr himself, Zana’s father.

“He started working here at the age of nine and didn’t stop until he passed away at ninety,” Zana relates. “This place was his second skin. He knew every corner like his own hands.”

Mam Khidr’s mill is not just a place that makes flour. It is a place that keeps memory alive. It grinds not just grain, but time, slowly, patiently, faithfully. A monument to love, labor, and the quiet power of togetherness. To Mam Khidr’s family, a place is more than property. It is home.