Urmia and Salmas plains has been even worse. In Urmia about 12,000
took refuge in the three compounds belonging to our Mission, while
3,000 more were in the French Catholic Mission. Here most of them
have remained since the 1st January, but some have withdrawn to
yards adjoining ours, some have been taken out by force and killed
by the Turks, and many have died. Urmia has been entirely cut off
from us. A few letters and messages they have succeeded in sending
through, and from these we have learned something of their
condition. At the first arrival of the Kurds and Turks, most of the
people remaining in the Christian villages fled to the Mission for
protection. Of those who stayed in the villages, many girls and
women were carried off by the Mohammedans and many men killed. In
those first days of January, about ten thousand were crowded into
our compound at Urmia city. In the church there were three thousand,
so many that they could not lie down to sleep. At the beginning from
ten to twenty-five were dying daily in our city compound, and a
little later the mortality increased to from twenty-five to forty a
day. At first it was not possible to take the bodies out of the
grounds for burial. Later, when they were able to secure some
adjoining yards, conditions became a little better. Dr. Packard,
hearing that a large Christian village was being attacked by the
Kurds, rode out there and, at the risk of his life, made his way to
the Kurdish chiefs and then to the village, and persuaded the Kurds
to spare the lives of the people on condition of their surrendering
their goods. Thus, by his influence with the Kurds, won by many
medical services in the past, he was able to save nearly a thousand
poor people from massacre and conduct them that night to the city.
All these thousands have had to be fed and cared for. It has meant a
daily expenditure of from £50 to £55 sterling for the three tons of
bread distributed each day. Some of the wealthy fugitives to Russia
left money with the Missionaries on their departure, with permission
to borrow it and use it if necessary, and in this way they were able
to get on up to the last reports, for we have been unable in any way
to reach them or send them money. But it is now nearly a month since
we have received authentic news from the Missionaries at Urmia. At
that time they reported the situation as very grave. We have heard
that a Turkish officer and several men entered our Mission grounds
by force, beat Mr. Allen twice because he could not tell them of the
whereabouts of some men they sought, and carried off several men to
kill them. From the Catholic Mission, in the same way, some forty
men were taken and massacred. In a village whose people had from the
first been peaceful and had paid a large sum for protection, 51
(others report 85) men were seized, taken outside and butchered, and
then the soldiers returned to outrage the women and girls, not even
little children being spared.
For three weeks Mr. Labaree has been in Salmas, hoping that a
Russian expeditionary force might be sent to rescue the Urmia
Christians and that he might be able to go over to help the
Missionaries, who must be greatly worn by the strain and by their
work. But as yet he has neither been able to go nor to send or
receive any word, nor are there any signs of a rescue.
This is the most awful calamity which has befallen the Nestorian
people in the ninety years of our mission work among them. About
1,000 had been killed and 2,000 had died of disease or fear up to
the middle of March, just in Urmia itself, and the Nestorians here
estimate that perhaps as many more died on the flight to Russia or
have died since. This would mean a fifth or a sixth of the 30,000
Nestorians who live on the Urmia plain. Their prosperous villages
have all been pillaged and most of them burned, and their churches
destroyed. Of the survivors, half are refugees in great want in the
Caucasus, the rest remain in Urmia in conditions of peril and fear
and need which wring one’s heart. Already over £4,000 sterling must
have been spent by the Missionaries in Urmia to preserve the lives
of those taking refuge with them. As soon as it becomes in the least
safe, they must be helped to return to their ruined homes and
villages to make a fresh start. Two months ago Mr. Labaree appealed
to America for at least £10,000 sterling as the smallest sum
required, and as time goes on it becomes evident that more will be
needed. Thus far about £2,400 has been received from the American
Red Cross and our Board, £30 from our missionaries in Hamadan, and
£20 from the English missionaries at Ispahan. Of course we here are
trying to help too. These poor distressed Nestorians are the
especial charge of our American Presbyterian Church, which has
laboured so many years for their good, and there is little hope of
help for them in this hour when so many nations are in trouble,
except in so far as _we_ help them.
And it is not only the Christians of Urmia that are in great need.
Those of the village of Miandoab (Armenians, these), have similarly
lost everything. The Kurds still occupy their town, and they are
refugees in Maragha and Tabriz. At Maragha the Armenians have
suffered greatly, for most of them had to flee, and now they have
the burden of all the refugees from Miandoab and other villages. And
in Salmas it is worse. All the Christian villages on that plain have
been smoked. Most of the Christians fled when the army withdrew in
January, but some remained behind and these sought the protection of
their Moslem neighbours. But a few days before the return of the
Russian army to Salmas, when the Turks saw that they would be
compelled to flee, they secured the names of all Christians by a
ruse, pretending that all who registered would be protected. Then
they gathered all the men into one place and carried them out in
companies of about twenty-five, each to be shot down in cold blood.
Others were tied with their heads sticking through the rungs of a
ladder and decapitated, others hacked to pieces or mutilated before
death. In this way practically every Christian man remaining in
Salmas was massacred. You can imagine the fate of girls and women.
The most detailed report received, signed by a number of men now on
the ground, stated that from 712 to 720 men were thus killed in
Salmas.
31. URMIA DURING THE TURCO-KURDISH OCCUPATION: DIARY OF A
MISSIONARY, EDITED BY MISS MARY SCHAUFFLER PLATT, AND PUBLISHED
BY THE BOARD OF FOREIGN MISSIONS OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN
THE U.S.A.
_Urmia, Persia, Saturday, 9th January, 1915._
I want to start a letter telling you of the events of the last week,
though I cannot tell when it will reach you. As you know, the
Russians had taken possession of this part of Persia, and were
maintaining order here, so that for the last year conditions were
more orderly, peaceful and prosperous than for long years before.
They had a consul here who was very capable, and tried to do justice
to all.
When war was declared between Russia and Turkey, we knew that this
meant war for Urmia, for we are right on the Turkish border, and
only a few years ago Turkey tried to get this section for herself,
but failed. We were told by the Russians in authority here that they
would hold Urmia against all odds, so the city was fortified by
trenches and defences on every side, and several thousand
reinforcements came.
On New Year’s Day, according to our custom, we received our friends.
As many as a hundred and forty of our Moslem and Christian friends,
men and women, called “to bless our New Year.” On Saturday, the 2nd,
like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, we were informed that the whole
Russian army was withdrawing; some had gone in the night, the rest
would leave immediately. There was a panic at once among the
Christian (Syrian and Armenian) population.[46] The Osmanlis, or
Turks and Kurds, were but a few miles away, and the Christians were
absolutely defenceless.
At once, as soon as the Russians had gone, with large numbers of
Syrians and Armenians leaving at the same time, the evil-minded
Moslems all over the plain began to plunder the Christian villages.
When the people were trying to flee to the missionaries in the city,
they were robbed on the roads of everything they had, even of their
outer clothing. In some of the villages the Moslem masters placed
guards to prevent the people from going themselves or bringing their
possessions to the city, saying they would protect them. When they
tried to get away, these same guards robbed and stripped them.
The crowds had begun to pour in at our gates on Sunday; the city
people were taken in by night and many others from near by. On
Sunday morning we put up the American flags over the entrances. On
Monday morning Dr. Packard, with American and Turkish flags,
accompanied by two Syrians, started out to meet the leading Kurdish
chief. He arrived at Geogtapa in time to prevent a terrible
massacre. The people of Geogtapa who had not fled to the city had
gone to our church and the Russian church, both of which are
situated on a high hill formed of ashes, a relic of Zoroastrian
times. The churchyards are enclosed by high mud walls. All finally
went to the Russian church, which was on the highest ground. They
barricaded the strong doors, and, when the Kurds attacked, the men
defended the fort with their guns and the women crowded like sheep
into the church. When Dr. Packard arrived, a lively battle was going
on, with little chance for the Christians. He had great difficulty
in getting to the chiefs without being shot; but he finally reached
them, and they knew him. Some of these Kurds had spent weeks in our
hospital and had been operated upon by Dr. Packard, so they listened
to him while he pleaded for the lives of the people inside. After
several hours’ entreaty, they agreed to let the people go with him
if they would give up their guns and ammunition.
I was talking yesterday with Layah, our Bible Woman, who was inside
the church. She said that when Dr. Packard first tried to signal to
them, they did not know him and kept on firing, but when they
recognized him a shout went up: “It’s the Hakim Sahib! Thank God! We
are saved!” I asked her what the Kurds did when they came out, and
she said they stood by and helped them, saying: “Come on! Come on!
Don’t be afraid!” In the rush, Layah fell and broke her arm, and is
now lying on Miss Lamme’s sofa resting.
All Monday the refugees had been coming in, until it seemed that
every room and storeroom was full, many of the rooms not lying-down
full but sitting-up full. But that night, when Dr. Packard came, he
brought over fifteen hundred more with him, and they had to be
stowed away. This is Saturday, the sixth day these thousands have
been here in our yards, not less than ten thousand—perhaps twelve or
fourteen thousand. We have taken several small yards and houses
adjoining ours, and the English Mission yard adjoining the seminary
yard is also full. Of course, the two Englishmen of the English
Mission had to leave with the Russian army, and with them a large
number of prominent Syrians who had been sympathizers with Russia.
Here in the city there has been plundering and some destruction of
property, but no general disorder—unless it be in the Armenian
quarter. The fine brick quarters which were built as barracks for
the Russian army I understand have remained intact, because the
invaders are afraid to go near them for fear they may be mined.
From the first the Sheikh promised protection to us and our people,
and when the Osmanli officers came they immediately took possession
of the city, and have tried to keep order and prevent plundering by
Moslems. The other day a Moslem, terribly wounded by a Turkish guard
while robbing, was brought here for treatment. This is an
illustration of our position: Here is a Mussulman thief, plundering
Christians, shot by the Osmanli guard, and then brought to us by his
friends that we might care for him.
Although we were promised safety for all within our gates there is
no certainty. On Wednesday morning I lay in bed a little longer than
usual, and about half-past seven suddenly an awful cry of fear and
despair went up from thousands of throats, and the crowds rushed
toward the church, then swayed back, not knowing whither to fly.
From the church, where human beings are packed in like sardines,
they began jumping from the windows. My first thought was that the
Kurds had broken in through our back gate, which opens into the
Moslem quarter, and that the massacre was about to begin; but the
poor, terrified people soon quieted, and before I could get dressed
I knew it must have been a false alarm. The poor, hunted creatures
think that if they can only hold to the skirts of a missionary they
will be safe.
On Thursday, Hannah, the wife of one of our pastors, reached us
after great suffering and exposure. They lived in Nazi, and heard
the report that the Russians were leaving. They couldn’t believe it,
but on Sunday afternoon Kurds from the west came and began
plundering. The people all fled to a walled village, because they
thought they might be safer there and because our preacher there,
Kasha Oner (Preacher Abner), had many friends among the Kurds, being
a mountaineer. On Monday, a Kurd visited them, pretending that he
had been sent by the Turks from the city, telling them they need
have no fear, as they would be protected; but it became evident that
he was a spy. Afterwards a band of Kurds came, demanded the guns,
and drank tea with the people; then others came and they began
robbing and killing. The people gathered together like a flock of
frightened sheep, and many were slaughtered. The greater part of
them got through the great gateway while the Kurds were plundering,
and that night they spent in the mountains without food or shelter
and with very little covering. One of our girls, Katie, who had gone
home on Friday for her Christmas vacation, was among them. She saw
her mother murdered and had to leave her body lying by the gate as
they ran. The next morning more than four hundred of them started
towards the city, cold, hungry, exhausted; many, having lost their
shoes in their flight, had frozen and bleeding feet. Hannah came
here, her feet were dressed, and she is lying comfortably on a
mattress on Miss Lamme’s floor. Her husband and daughter were
already here. The rest of the party were taken in at our College
compound, two miles west of the city.
The pitiful tales we hear of murder, of narrow escape through snow
and mud, hungry, sick and cold, are numberless.
_Monday, 11th January, 1915._
Several families from Degala are camped in our parlour, and the
night before last Victoria, one of the women, came to me and said an
old woman had just come in who didn’t seem able to answer anything
she asked her. I found her crouched in a corner of the hall. She
said she was so cold. At first she couldn’t eat, but after drinking
some tea she improved. We had absolutely no place but a stone floor
for her; but we took up a carpet from my bedroom, rolled her up in
it in the upper hallway, and she went to sleep. She was the
janitress of our church in Barbaroud, fifteen miles to the south.
The Kurds did their worst there several days ago, and she had
escaped, barefooted, almost naked, and without food. She died a day
or two later.
One poor woman, who had both husband and son killed, has gone crazy,
and we haven’t any place to put her but a dark closet under the
stairway. At midnight I was awakened by her pounding on the door.
She has a nursing baby. Thank God, to-day they took her to the
hospital, where they can care for her a little better than here.
(She died two days later.) At the College compound, where the
hospital is, they have only about two thousand, and we have perhaps
twelve thousand, and every day more are coming. Those who have been
hiding with Moslem friends are coming to us day by day, and we
haven’t any place to put them. We have not been able to take the
dead from our yards, so we are burying them in the little yard by
the side of the church—twenty-seven so far. Some die every day, and
there is no shroud or coffin for them.
_Evening._
We have just had a Praise Meeting in the parlour with fifty or sixty
who could gather from the halls and rooms near, and we feel more
cheerful. We thought if Paul and Silas, with their stripes, could
sing praises in prison, so could we.
_Wednesday, 13th January._
Since Monday, the 4th, we have been giving out bread. In the morning
we sell to those who have money, and in the afternoon give free
bread to those who cannot buy, disposing of over four tons of bread
a day. Practically all the refugees from the city have their own
food, and some from the villages, too. We buy our bread from the
bazaar (market), and a very efficient and willing young Syrian has
been attending to the weighing and giving out, while groups of other
young men have been selling and distributing. The only things we
have had for carrying the bread are our clothes-baskets and old tin
bath-tubs, and they are doing good service. We have received some
gifts of food for the refugees from Moslems. One man gave over six
hundred pounds of meat, which we cooked and gave out in one section,
but it is very difficult to distribute anything except bread among
so large a number. I am speaking only of what we are doing here in
this compound, where by far the larger number of refugees are. They
are doing similar work in Sardari (the Boys’-School premises) and at
the College compound. Mr. McDowell is looking after sanitary
conditions and the streams of water flowing through the yards, which
furnish the only drinking water for the crowds, and conditions are
much improved.
There are hundreds of mountaineers who have no place to go to.
Before this affair they were distributed among the villages, and we
had established a number of schools especially for them. These
people had been driven from their homes by the Kurds early in the
autumn. Many of them seem little better than animals—dirty, lazy,
satisfied with any hole to lie in and just enough bread to keep
their stomachs comfortable. Of course, they are not all of this
sort, but we have several hundred that are. They are chiefly crowded
into the church and our large school-room. The people who are
suffering most are those who have been accustomed to the comforts
and decencies of life, who are crowded together like cattle, without
sufficient clothing or food.
The day after the flight from Geogtapa we went with a basket of
bread to one of the larger rooms of the Press, which was filled with
self-respecting people who had the day before been in comfortable
circumstances, but who had fled with nothing, or had been robbed of
whatever they had tried to bring with them. When they saw the bread
for distribution, they began to cry and cover their faces, and we
had to drop the bread into their laps—they didn’t reach out for it.
Of course, we assured them that under such circumstances, it was no
shame to eat the bread of charity.
When the people began to flee, they wanted to deposit their money
with us, and our Treasurer accepted it on condition that we could
use it without interest and repay it when normal conditions are
restored. It is with this money that we have been enabled to buy
bread and save these people from starvation.
Children are being born every day. We have managed to give two small
rooms to these women, many of whom haven’t even a quilt. Children
were born even in the crowded church. One of the women who was
reporting these cases complained in a very aggrieved tone that some
were “even bringing two,” as if one wasn’t enough to satisfy anybody
under existing circumstances.
This is the first day that we have been able to get donkeys to haul
away the refuse. I hope we shall soon be able to take the dead to
the cemetery.
_Thursday, 14th January._
Mr. Allen returned last evening from his journey to the villages of
the Nazlu river. Several thousand fled towards Russia; many have
hidden with Moslems, who are now trying to force them to become
Mohammedans and to give their girls in marriage to Moslems. In Ada
perhaps as many as a hundred were killed, most of them young men. It
is told that they were stood up in line, one behind another, by the
Kurds, to see how many one bullet would kill. I went down to see the
woman in the room under mine who had received word of the killing of
her brother in Karadjalu. Everywhere there is wailing and sadness,
and her lamentation for her dead brother is the wail of thousands of
hearts:—
“Oh, Yeremia (Jeremiah), my brother!
The pillar of our house; a father to us all, ah, Yeremia, Yeremia!
Thou didst comfort us all! A giant in body and giant in spirit.
Oh, Yeremia, my brother, oh, my brother, Yeremia, my heart is broken
for thee!
My brother! Oh, my brother, thy house is left desolate; thy little
ones orphans.
Oh, Yeremia, Yeremia! thou wert a righteous man, merciful to the
poor!”
_Saturday, 16th January._
Yesterday some Abijalu people were in, asking for bread, although a
week ago they were among the well-to-do. The same story of robbery,
exposure and horror. When a Kurd tried to carry off Shamasha Sayad’s
daughter, she jumped into the well and stayed there for hours in
water up to her chin. Some one said a few days ago, “Blessed are the
dead,” and I echoed the sentiment.
_Monday, 18th January._
In the midst of panic, distress and death, we have had two weddings.
Both had been arranged to take place on the Syrian New Year, the
14th January. Dr. Shedd performed the ceremony in both cases. Both
brides had their trousseaux ready, but felt these were not proper
times for the display of finery, so wore ordinary dresses.
These last few days a number of the city families have returned in
fear and trembling to their homes, taking just a very few things
with them. This is relieving the overcrowded rooms somewhat, and
Miss Schoebel this afternoon is trying to drive the people out into
the sunshine long enough to have the rooms swept—or, rather,
shovelled. It consumes all one’s energies to try to get anyone to do
anything. All the responsibility and much of the actual labour has
devolved upon the missionaries. Of course, many of our best men fled
to Russia, and among those who are left there are few leaders. There
are some notable exceptions, though, both here and at the
College—_e.g._, Jacob David, who without missionary assistance has
charge of eight hundred and fifty refugees and is doing finely.
Another, a young shopkeeper, has had charge of the weighing and
distribution of bread, with much of the buying, from the beginning.
He has done the work with surprising efficiency and self-devotion.
Bands of young men have been ready, day after day, for distributing
bread. The nights have been divided into three watches, and groups
of men have taken their turns in acting as watchmen. Mr. Nisan, who
has charge of the English Mission yard, one night found the watchmen
asleep, so the next day they were tied to trees, and a placard
placed over them with the inscription: “Unfaithful Watchmen,” as a
warning to others. Guarding the streams is a very necessary and a
very difficult task. Mr. McDowell finds it extremely hard to get
anyone among the hundreds of Syrians here who can be trusted to
oversee such work, or who can be kept on a job longer than an hour
or so at a time.
We are urging some now to return to their homes. Many are so afraid,
and we cannot give them assurance of safety. Some Kurds have gone,
but many are still about. The people come to the individual
missionaries and beg for just one small room for their families,
each one with his own special plea. When we tell them the greatest
danger for them just now is to remain crowded in such narrow bounds,
it makes little or no appeal to them. They are nine-tenths fatalists
any way, and think that it all depends upon the “will of Allah.”
They say: “Let us die by the hand of God and not of the Kurds.”
We have been having unusually fine weather; only two bad days, and
they were not cold. A Mohammedan was heard to say: “Do you see how
God loves these Christians? Who ever saw such weather in the middle
of winter?”
Dr. Shedd is the representative of our station before the
Government; he and Dr.Packard have had that end of the work, daily
pleading before Persian and Osmanli authorities for the Christian
population. It was told us that a prominent Moslem had said: “Dr.
Shedd is the best Christian in the city! Just see how he comes every
day through the deep mud to plead for those people!”
_Wednesday, 20th January._
A few people from the city went to their homes, and our hopes began
to rise; but yesterday and to-day others came in from the Nazlu
river and from Tchargousha. Thirty-six dead were carried to the
trench in Mart Maryam[47] (St. Mary) churchyard yesterday; the
larger part of them were children.