“He has no one here, no family,” someone said.

“We are his family,” Mr. Abas said. “Let’s move him closer to the others.”

Among the first to be buried were twins, Attaullah and Farzana, 19.

They were the first children of their parents, born and raised in Ghazni Province before their family moved to Kabul nine years ago. Their mother was a seamstress; she would often sew them matching clothes when they were babies, their cousin Abdul Qader Rahimi said.

“Attaullah was the first to be born, and he grew faster than Farzana,” Mr. Rahimi said. “She would tease him that he drank her share of milk, that’s why.”

“One could not live without the other — that is why they left the world together,” Mr. Rahimi said. “They were one soul, in two bodies.”

Then there was Negina. No one at the cemetery really knew much about her.

Her only friend helped other women inch the coffin closer to the grave until its turn arrived. Then she fainted. Other women unbuckled her shoes and splashed her face with water.