deliver without cash on the spot. They say the “blue eyes”
(Russians) will return, “and then you will not pay us.” Mr. Müller
will try to-day to get wheat on several months’ credit, and we shall
use that instead of cash if possible. I am realizing what a
wonderful thing money is, and what a dreadful thing it is to be
without it, especially under such circumstances. As long as we could
pay cash we couldn’t stop some of the bakers from bringing more than
we wanted. We feel, with so many of our number sick, so many others
busy caring for them, the end of our money in sight, and our
physical strength almost exhausted, that surely deliverance must be
near. Through eleven weeks we have looked for it in vain.
I have just paid a visit to the school dining-room, which is one of
our hospital rooms. If there is another spot on this earth of more
concentrated human misery, I hope I may never know it. One boy had
just died. The mother looked up at me so pitifully, and said: “Lady,
he is dead.” Another baby was lying on the floor dying, under the
influence of khash-khash (opium). The mother has no milk for lack of
food, and the baby is dying of starvation. The mother said: “Khanum,
I am so sick, what shall I do?” I could only reply: “I do not know.”
Twenty others were lying on the floor, without bedding, in various
stages of misery, groaning, weeping and appealing for help. One
child was lying on his father’s coat with a hard bundle under his
head, with the marks of slow starvation upon him. To-morrow he too
will probably be gone, and we shall thank God that it is so. They
are so many, our strength and our means are so limited, the rooms
are so crowded, we can do little for them and death is their best
friend. One of our Bible Women is lying here, with her two daughters
on one side of her and her sister on the other. Her boy died a few
weeks ago. When I spoke to her she tried to raise herself up and
tell me about some of the other sick in the room. We have been
furnishing matting for the sick to lie on, and using Mr. Sterrett’s
supply of wood for fires in the sick room; the rest have had to do
without fires except the few who have been able to get wood for
their rooms. In one of the typhoid rooms yesterday I noticed a pile
of charred wood in the corner and asked about it. They said they had
sent to the village and brought in the half-burned beams of their
homes for fuel. That was all that was left of their house, except a
pile of mud. Others have done the same thing.
Yesterday Rabi Nanou, one of our Bible Women, went out as usual to
hold meetings in the places where large numbers of refugees, mostly
mountain people, are huddled together. She was stopped in the street
by an askar who demanded her long coat. She told him she had been
stripped of everything when she first fled from her village, and
that the coat had since been given her by one of the missionary
ladies. He said, nevertheless, it was not necessary for her, and
demanded that she should take it off. Just then another askar came
up who had been a guard at our gate. He interfered, saying that he
knew her as a deaconess who went out every day to preach to the
people, and she was allowed to go on with her coat.
A while ago I took some soft-boiled eggs and several pieces of bread
to the sick ones in the dining-room, and to Rabi Surra and her
family. They are very grateful for everything. I’ve no doubt that,
if they were properly fed, most of them would be up in a week.
_Sunday, 21st March._
Yesterday Mr. McDowell called a meeting of all the native doctors to
try to get them to help in the responsibility of caring for the
increasing number of typhoid cases. There are a number of doctors
who do practically nothing and find excuses when anything is asked
of them. It is hard to understand how they can spend hours every day
sitting in their rooms or walking up and down the pavement here
while they might be doing something to help in the care of the
scores of sick people and in the effort Mr. McDowell is making for
the preservation of the health of the community. Our assistant
physician, Dr. Daniel Werda, is sick with typhoid, and Dr. David, of
Soujboulak, who went out to the hospital to help, has been brought
home sick. Dr. Pera, our former assistant, is at the College
compound now, helping with the sick missionaries and a few special
cases, and Dr. Joseph Khoshaba has consented to go out there to
help. Dr. Theo. Mar Yosep has been our stand-by from the very
beginning, and is the only native doctor here in the city yards who
has really worked. He has been on hand every day.
_Tuesday, 23rd March._
Sunday evening was the beginning of the Persian New Year, _Noruz_,
and as soon as the cannon went off to announce that the New Year had
begun there was a great firing of guns and torpedoes, more than
usual. It was kept up for half-an-hour or more, and many of the
people were badly frightened, thinking that perhaps a battle was on.
We heard the next day that the Shahbanda was scared, not knowing
what it was.
The Shahbanda sent forty-eight bolts of muslin for pyjamas, and the
women under Miss Schoebel’s directions are now sewing on them,
having finished eight hundred and fifty shirts.
The smells in our backyards are almost unbearable. I can’t open my
back window at all. The sun is quite hot and dries things up; it
also brings out the awful smells. Last night the Shahbanda gave us
permission to send a messenger to Tabriz for Dr. Vanneman. Our sick
are all getting along fairly well. Dr. Packard has passed the crisis
and each day seems a little bit better. There are about twenty-five
Turks in the hospital now.
_Thursday, 25th March._
We are trying to send away some of the people by taking back their
bread tickets to-day; but we cannot give them any assurance of
safety. They are so crowded here, and there is so much sickness, and
money is so scarce, that it seems the lesser of two evils to send
some of the people away, even though a few be killed.
Yesterday we gave each of the sixty sick persons in the school
dining-room a soft-boiled egg, and in the afternoon tea, which was
served by two or three school-girls. Sugar and tea are so expensive,
about three times the regular price, that it costs about six
shillings just to treat that one room to tea. The big school-room is
in just as bad a condition as the dining-room, only with so many
more tenants that it seems impracticable to do anything there. I’ve
no doubt that if hundreds of these people were properly fed for a
week they would be on their feet, but it is beyond our means and our
strength. Just now the voice of Kasha Moushi Douman of Geogtapa
comes to me through the open window of the paved school court where
he is preaching. Twice a day preaching exercises are held in the
school yard, and besides there are a number of preachers and women
who go round daily to rooms and other yards for services.
_Monday, 29th March._
We have had two or three rainy days, which are very hard for the
people. Some of the sick are lying on the balcony with almost no
covering or bedding. I saw one of the most awful sights I have yet
seen on the school balcony yesterday—a woman stretched out on the
bare bricks, half-naked, in the throes of death, the damp cold air
blowing over her, friendless, helpless. The whole school-room,
aisles, desks, corners, and platform is filled with the most
miserable of the starving sick. We made the man who has charge of
our tea-stand take the samovars there yesterday, Palm Sunday, and
give each of the one hundred and fifty people two large glasses of
tea. It costs about twelve shillings, but eight shillings were given
me by Syrians. With the thousands of dollars of debt just for dry
bread, we don’t feel we can borrow money for special food for the
sick ones, except in limited quantities for typhoid patients. We
need space more than anything else, rooms where we could put the
sick on straw mats with at least a quilt over them, a fire and a
little food besides dry bread, which many are too sick to eat. It
seems dreadful to think of two thousand people dying here in this
way, but after twelve weeks of it we cannot but feel glad every time
one more of these helpless suffering ones finds rest. Sometimes for
days I seem to be hardened past feeling, and then again the horror
of it all sweeps over me. We pray and pray and cry out to God for
deliverance, but no help comes. We seem shut off from the rest of
the world and left to our fate. Nothing from the outside world for
three months! We hear many reports, but few materialize. We are told
that word has come that the Crown Prince has arrived in Tabriz and
that Urmia should celebrate, so there has been a great deal of
firing of cannon, display of banners, and decoration. We have had
our entrance decorated with banners and rugs. There is a great deal
of rejoicing among the Persians, who desire to see the Persian
Government strong enough to turn out both Turk and Russian.
A few days ago, Mr. Müller managed to borrow a thousand tomans from
a merchant in the bazaar. It was counted out in two-kran silver
pieces. This he was bringing home on the back of a porter, he
walking close behind with a Persian soldier. Suddenly he found
himself surrounded by six Kurds, armed to the teeth with guns,
cartridge belts, and daggers. Two walked ahead and punched the
money-bag to assure themselves that it was really money; the others
pressed close behind Mr. Müller as they followed him through the
streets. They asked him where he was taking the money, but he walked
on in dignified silence, not deigning to answer, though trembling
for the safety of the money. They reached our gate in safety, and as
he turned in, Mr. Müller thanked the Kurds for their safe escort.
They laughed and passed on. Some of the young Syrians who guard the
gate report that a few days ago a bunch of Kurds in passing stopped
to talk and said: “We came down here to the plain with the intention
of killing you all, not one of you would have escaped, but (pointing
to the Stars and Stripes over the gate) we don’t dare pass under
that flag!“ Everybody feels that had we not been able to give refuge
to the Christians, there would have been few left to tell the tale;
and so even yet we do not dare to force the people out, and they all
say: “We would rather die here of hunger and disease than take our
chances with the Kurds and Turks.”
Our sick missionaries all seem to be getting along well, and we are
very thankful. The typhoid here in the city is usually light, and
there are few deaths from it, though many from dysentery. Measles
almost disappeared some time ago.
_Thursday, 1st April._
Rabi Nannou of Geogtapa, our best Bible Woman, has died of
pneumonia, after a few days’ illness. For the three months that she
has been a refugee here she has been a fearless and faithful worker,
going out daily for religious meetings to the houses where the
mountaineers have been huddled, looking after the sick, not
hesitating to go to any place where she could help. For several
years she has supported from her small salary her brother’s four
orphan children, and has been to them both father and mother.
Herself unmarried, she has given her means and love unselfishly to
these as if they were her own children. There is no one to fill her
place.
We have started to buy wheat on credit, as our cash is very low and
we are not able to get more money. We have just bought four hundred
bushels from Rabi David of Degala for part of his debt to us. When
he was in prison and fined one thousand tomans to save his head, we
furnished part of the cash and took his note. He can’t pay cash now,
so he is paying in wheat, which we will have ground to give to the
hungry. What credit we can get for bread is for a few days only.
Most of the bakers need the money to carry on their business.
_Friday, 2nd April._
Bertha Shedd, ten years old, has been sick with typhoid for several
days, and now Miss Lamme is beginning; the latter went out to the
hospital about two weeks ago to help there when Miss Coan went down
with it. Dr. Packard, Mrs. Cochran, and Miss Coan are getting well.
Oraham Badel, our financial agent and general assistant in the City
Compound, is very low this morning—just as I was writing he died,
leaving a wife and four little ones.
Several hundred Turkish troops have come into the city, evidently in
retreat, as there are wounded among them. It is not evident from
which direction they came. Last evening one of the Turkish officers
came rushing in here in great distress. He had taken poison by
mistake and came in here to be saved. He was given an emetic, and
his life was saved. They have heard of germs and are very much
afraid of typhoid, and had some corrosive sublimate in a glass for
washing hands. This man saw it and, thinking it was wine or whiskey,
poured it down his throat. He was terribly scared, and after being
relieved of the poison, it was suggested that, as his life had been
saved, he should try to save other lives.
_Sunday, 4th April._
This journal is fast becoming an obituary. At first the hundreds who
died were the poorest and the weakest, but now many from among our
best are going. Yesterday Dr. Daniel Werda, Dr. Packard’s assistant,
died of typhoid. For three days Mrs. McDowell has been in bed with
high fever. It is not evident yet that it is typhoid. Last night our
cook went to bed with typhoid. Miss Schoebel is now trying to make
her comfortable and makes her old mother look after her. All day we
have been trying to get something to eat for the hundreds of sick
who have nothing for Easter. Easter is the Syrian “Great Feast,” and
is to them what Christmas is to us. They say: “The Little Feast
(Christmas) was black, and now the Great Feast is black too.” They
had hoped so much that deliverance might come before the feast. We
have given eggs and soup to about five hundred sick, and before
evening I hope a glass of tea will be given to as many more.
To-morrow we plan to give soup to several hundred more that we
didn’t reach to-day. We don’t use relief money for anything but
bread, and so have only personal funds for the sick—a very little.
_Tuesday, 6th April._
We have dwelt so long in the valley of death with the sick, the
starving, the dying, with the unending procession of little bodies
sewn up in a piece of cloth, friendless corpses carried out on
ladders, with gaping mouths and staring eyes, crude unpainted
coffins, coffins covered with black chintz, the never-ceasing wail,
and eyes of the mourners that are never dried, hands outstretched
for what we cannot give, and now so many of our own number are down.
I felt on Sunday as if I ought to get my own burial clothes ready so
as to make as little trouble as possible when my turn came, for in
these days we all go about our work knowing that any one of us may
be the next to go down. And yet I think our friends would be
surprised to see how cheerful we have kept, and how many occasions
we find for laughing; for ludicrous things do happen. Then, too,
after dwelling so intimately with death for three months, he doesn’t
seem to have so unfriendly an aspect, and the “Other Side” seems
very near and our Pilot close beside us. It is at such times that
one finds out just how much faith in the unseen he has, and just how
much his religion is worth. I find the Rock on which I can anchor in
peace are the words of Christ Himself: “Where I am, there ye may be
also.” “If any man serve Me let him follow Me, and where I am, there
shall also My servant be.” That is enough—to be where He is.
Recently, as I have read sermons or books written for the trying
times of life, I have found them tame and insufficient for the
occasion; our own experiences are so much more intense and go so
much deeper that nothing but the words of God Himself can reach to
the bottom. I have been re-reading Browning’s _Prospice_, but it
doesn’t thrill me as much as it did, for I have something better:
“For I know whom I have believed....” and “I am persuaded that Death
cannot separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our
Lord.”
_Afternoon._
This morning Mrs. McDowell’s rose-spots appeared, and now we know
that she has typhoid or typhus (it was typhoid). Rabi Ister Alamshah
has consented to help in the care of Mrs. McDowell. Miss Schoebel
and I were perfectly willing to nurse her, but it would mean
throwing our work on some other missionary already loaded up. Mr.
McDowell will give up some of his work and help in nursing Mrs.
McDowell. There are now six of our number sick, and it is impossible
not to feel that someone else will go down in a few days unless it
becomes possible to send the crowds away.
_Evening._
To-day Miss Lamme’s rose-spots appeared, so her case is pronounced
typhoid.
* * * * * *
_Thursday, 3rd June._
Almost two months since I last wrote in my journal. On Sunday, the
11th April, I went to bed with typhoid or typhus, and three days
later Miss Schoebel went down with it also. Rabi Elishua, a teacher
of the Persian Girls’-School, came to nurse me at once. She kept up
for three weeks and saw me through the worst of my sickness; then
she took the disease. Three of the other Seminary teachers in
succession came to care for Miss Schoebel, and each one went down
with the disease in turn. Miss Bridges, of the American Orphanage,
came to help us during the day, and in twelve days went to bed with
typhus. She is just getting about again. All the teachers who helped
to care for us have recovered, though one of the other teachers
died. We were all surprised to find how competent these untrained,
inexperienced girls were as nurses when there were no available
missionaries left to nurse us. We were dependent upon them and got
along finely without any complications. When the last one went down
we knew that she was the last _intelligent_ nurse we should find,
and after that we were dependent upon ignorant village women.
A great many things happened during the two months of our illness
and convalescence. A very large number of our Syrian friends died.
Of our own circle Mrs. McDowell died on the 16th April, and Mrs.
Shedd on the 17th May. We can’t take in yet what their loss will
mean to us when we get to living under normal conditions. Mrs.
Müller attended Miss Schoebel and me for two and a half weeks; then
she took the fever. Her little boy was born in a few days, but only
lived overnight. This is the fourth grave we have out in Dr. Coan’s
orchard by the grape-arbour. It hasn’t been possible to take them to
our cemetery at Seir. This week Mr. Müller went to bed with typhus.
His fever has been high. He is the thirteenth out of eighteen
missionaries to get the fever, besides two of the children, Bertha
Shedd and Ruth Müller. On Monday, Mr. Labaree, with two nurses, Miss
Easton of the Tabriz hospital and Miss Burgess, who had reached
Tabriz on her way to Urmia, arrived. Mr. Labaree had been trying for
weeks to get through, but was unable until the Russian army opened
the way. Yesterday, the 5th June, Dr. Lamme arrived and began work
last evening. One of the hard things during these five long months
was our isolation from the outside world. Of course we knew that our
friends were thinking of and praying for us, but it is a great help
to have the tangible evidence in the shape of these friends and of
letters from many others.
On Sunday, the 24th May, the advanced guard of the Russian army
entered Urmia, and in the afternoon the commander came to call on
our gentlemen. When we learned that the army would not remain, but
were ordered to follow the enemy, there was consternation and great
fear. And when the army moved on, the Moslems immediately began to
annoy and rob the Syrians who had returned to their villages. There
was great fear of a Moslem uprising against the Christians, and
hundreds fled in the direction of Salmas. Finally the Russians left
a small guard of about two hundred men. Three days ago about six
thousand Russian troops, with artillery, came in from the south and
marched through the city. We watched them from our roof, and it was
a goodly sight to us besieged people. We shall try now to empty our
yards of refugees. A few days ago there were still about one
thousand left in our own yards and in one yard adjoining, which we
have been renting for refugees, besides many others in surrounding
yards. The stench in our back yard is almost unbearable. I don’t
know how we can get rid of the smells or disinfect the ground, which
must be soaked for two or three feet, as that yard has been used as
a latrine for hundreds of people for more than five months.
Yesterday two Red Cross nurses, who have come with the Russian army
from Mongolia, asked to be our guests for a few days until the army
moved on in the direction of Erzeroum. They say that from there they
will go to Jerusalem. When travelling they dress like the Cossacks,
but wear their nurses’ costumes in the house.
A few days ago a number of prominent Syrians, who had fled when the
Russians evacuated Urmia, returned, many of them to broken and badly
damaged homes. We had a service of thanksgiving in the church
yesterday, the first time for many months, as it had been occupied
by refugees. Thousands have lived in such terror and want, it is a
wonder that many have not lost their minds. It has seemed sometimes
as if our tears were all dried up and our emotions were dead, we
have seen and felt so much. I suppose it is nature’s way of saving
brain and nerve. When I look at these poor wretched creatures and
little children like skeletons, I find I still have some feelings
left. It is estimated that four thousand people have died from
disease, hunger, and exposure, and about a thousand by violence. The
suffering can never be told, nor is it ended. Hundreds, yes
thousands, are destitute, and even if we empty our yard there is no
one left but the missionaries to save them from starvation, and we
look to America. In the name of all Christians we have tried to
witness for Christianity before this Moslem people. Will the
Christians of America pay the bill?
-----
Footnote 46:
Note by Miss Platt.—The term Syrian, as used here, applies to the
Christian nation who speak the Syriac language, and who are
Nestorians by religious belief. In America they call themselves
Persian-Assyrians.
Footnote 47:
Christian quarter of the city, adjoining the mission property.
Footnote 48:
A _toman_ is about four shillings.
32. URMIA AFTER ITS EVACUATION BY THE TURKS AND KURDS: LETTER DATED
URMIA, 20th MAY, 1915, FROM MRS. J.P. COCHRAN TO FRIENDS IN THE
UNITED STATES; COMMUNICATED BY THE BOARD OF FOREIGN MISSIONS OF
THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN THE U.S.A.
It seems almost too good to be true to think that we are going to
get in touch once more with the outside world, and may be it is.
But, anyway, the Governor says he will send a messenger over to
Tabriz to-morrow to carry letters and perhaps he will get through
safely.
I have no idea what has leaked through to civilisation since we fell
out of the world, but I will give you as much of an account of the
last four months and a half as the brief time allowed before the
messenger goes will permit.
On New Year’s Day we had our usual day of receiving callers in the
city; all our Syrian and some Moslem friends called and things
seemed fairly safe, though we knew we might be on the edge of war,
as there was an army of Turks and Kurds within a day’s march of us.
They were said to be coming on to fight the Russians, who with a
little force, of two thousand, perhaps, were strongly entrenched
here.
The next morning the Russians rose and left in haste, and many of
our Syrian men and others who were known to be their supporters here
left with them. Our teaching force here at the College, our
newspaper and printing press work, and even our city church work was
terribly crippled by the exodus, as it took away some of our best
workers.
The Russians’ departure was the herald for the Kurds to pounce upon
the prey they had so long been held at bay from, and, even before
they arrived, the Moslem neighbours in all the surrounding villages
flew upon the spoil, killing Syrians, running off with their cattle
and household goods and even stripping those who were trying to run
away from them of their money, bundles and any clothes they took a
fancy to. They also carried off women and tried to force Christians
to become Moslems, keeping them safely if they would deny their
faith or repeat the sentence which constituted the acceptance of
Islam. In some cases they were successful in this, though, of
course, many would not and some of them were killed for it.
Then came the rush of the Kurds. They came in hundreds from every
Kurdish quarter, sore against the Christians for having joined
forces with the Russians, who had armed them and drafted them for
military service whether they would or not.