our backs to the storm we ate our lunch in our saddles. There was
nothing to look at but brown gravel, or brown mud, brooded over by a
gray mist. So we tramped on, hour after hour, in single file, the
_zaptieh_ leading, everything but his gun muffled in his brown _abba_,
splashing through mud and water, the water pouring from my hat and
cloak, the six woollen thicknesses of my mask dripping, seeing neither
villages nor caravans, for caravans of goods do not travel in such
rain as this. Then over a slope we went down into a lake of mud, where
the _aide-de-camp_ of the Governor of Khannikin, in a fez and military
frock-coat and trousers, with a number of Bashi Bazouks or irregulars,
met M---- with courtesies and an invitation.
From the top of the next slope there was a view of Khannikin, a
considerable-looking town among groves of palms and other trees. Then
came a worse sea of mud, and a rudely cobbled causeway, so horrible
that it diverted us back into the mud, which was so bottomless that it
drove us back to the causeway, and the causeway back to the mud, the
rain all the time coming down in sheets. This causeway, without
improvement, is carried through Khannikin, a town with narrow blind
alleys, upon which foul courtyards open, often so foul as to render
the recent ravages of cholera (if science speaks truly) a matter of
necessity. The mud and water in these alleys was up to the knees of
the mules. Not a creature was in the streets. No amount of curiosity,
even regarding the rare sight of a Frank woman, could make people face
the storm in flimsy cotton clothes.
Where the road turns to the bridge a line of irregular infantry was
drawn up, poorly dressed, soaked creatures, standing in chilly mud up
to their ankles, in soaked boots reaching to their knees. These joined
and headed the cavalcade, and I fell humbly in the rear. Poor fellows!
To keep step was impossible when it was hard work to drag their feet
out of the mire, and they carried their rifles anyhow. It was a
grotesque procession. A trim officer, forlorn infantry, wild-looking
Bashi Bazouks, Europeans in stout mackintoshes splashed with mud from
head to foot, mules rolling under their bespattered loads, and a
_posse_ of servants and orderlies crouching on the top of baggage,
muffled up to the eyes, the asses which carry the _katirgis_ and their
equipments far behind, staggering and nearly done up, for the march of
seventeen miles had taken eight and a half hours.
An abrupt turn in the causeway leads to the Holwan, a tributary of the
Diyalah, a broad, rapid stream, over which the enterprise of a Persian
has thrown a really fine brick bridge of thirteen heavily-buttressed
arches, which connects the two parts of the town and gives some
dignity and picturesqueness to what would otherwise be mean. On the
left bank of the Holwan are the barracks, the governor's house, some
large caravanserais, the Custom-house, and a quarantine station,
quarantine having just been imposed on all arrivals from Persia,
giving travel and commerce a decided check.
After half a mile of slush on the river bank we entered by a handsome
gateway a nearly flooded courtyard, and the Governor's house
hospitably engorged the whole party.
The fully-laden mules stuck in the mud a few miles off, and did not
come in for two hours, and in spite of covers everything not done up
in waterproof was very wet. The servants looked most miserable, and
complained of chills and rheumatism, and one of the orderlies is
really ill. We cannot move till the storm is over.
The rain falls heavily still, the river is rising, the alleys are two
feet deep in slush, travel is absolutely suspended, and it is not
possible without necessity to go out. It was well indeed that we
decided to leave the shelterless shelter of Kizil Robat. Nothing can
exceed the wretchedness of Khannikin or any Turkish town in such rain
as this. Would that one could think that it would be washed, but as
there are no channels to carry off the water it simply lodges and
stagnates in every depression, and all the accumulations of summer
refuse slide into these abominable pools, and the foul dust, a foot
deep, becomes mud far deeper; buried things are half uncovered;
torrents, not to be avoided, pour from every roof, the courtyards are
knee-deep in mud, the cows stand disconsolately in mud; not a woman is
to be seen, the few men driven forth by the merciless exigences of
business show nothing but one eye, and with "loins girded" and big
staffs move wearily, stumbling and plunging in the mire.
After some hours the flat mud roofs begin to leak, water finds out
every weak place in the walls, the bazars, only half open for a short
time in the day, are deserted by buyers, and the patient sellers
crouch over _mangels_, muffled up in sheepskins, the caravanserais are
crammed and quarrelsome; the price of fodder and fuel rises, and every
one is drowned in rain and wretchedness. Even here, owing to the
scarcity of fuel, nothing can be dried; the servants in their damp
clothes come in steaming; Hadji in his misshapen "jack-boots," which
he asserts he cannot take off, spreads fresh mud over the carpets
whenever he enters; I shift from place to place to avoid the drip from
the roof--and still the rain comes down with unabated vigour!
FOOTNOTE:
[10] I present my diary letters much as they were written, believing
that the details of travel, however wearisome to the experienced
traveller, will be interesting to the "Untravelled Many," to whom
these volumes are dedicated.
LETTER III (_Continued_)
The house consists of two courtyards, with buildings round them. The
larger and handsomer is the _haram_ or women's house, which is
strictly enclosed, has no exterior windows, and its one door into the
men's house is guarded by a very ancient eunuch. The courtyard of this
house is surrounded partly by arched _serdabs_, with green lattice
fronts, and partly by a kitchen, bakery, wood-house, _hammam_ or hot
bath, and the servants' quarters. The _haram_ has a similar
arrangement on the lower floor. A broad balcony, reached by a steep
and narrow stair, runs round three sides of the upper part of this
house. There are very few rooms, and some of them are used for storing
fruit. The wet baggage is mostly up here, and under the deep roof the
servants and orderlies camp, looking miserable. The _haram_ has a
balcony all round it, on which a number of reception and living rooms
open, and though not grand or elaborately decorated, is convenient and
comfortable.
The Turkish host evidently did not know what to do with such an
embarrassing guest as a European woman, and solved the difficulty by
giving me the guest-chamber in the men's house, a most fortunate
decision, as I have had quiet and privacy for three days. Besides,
this room has a projecting window, with panes of glass held in by
nails, and there is not only a view of the alley with its slush, but
into the house of some poor folk, and over that to the Holwan,
sometimes in spate, sometimes falling, and through all the hours of
daylight frequented by grooms for the purpose of washing their horses.
Some shingle banks, now overflowed, sustain a few scraggy willows, and
on the farther side is some low-lying land. There may be much besides,
but the heavy rain-clouds blot out all else.
My room is whitewashed, and is furnished with Persian rugs, Austrian
bent-wood chairs, and a divan in the window, on which I sleep. Lamps,
_samovars_, and glasses are kept in recesses, and a black slave is
often in and out for them. Otherwise no one enters but Hadji. I get my
food somewhat precariously. It is carved and sent from table at the
beginning of meals, chiefly pillau, curry, _kabobs_, and roast
chicken, but apparently it is not etiquette for me to get it till
after the men have dined, and it is none the better for being cold.
The male part of the household consists of the Governor and his
brother-in-law, a Moslem judge, and the quarantine doctor, a Cretan,
takes his meals in the house. The Governor and doctor speak French. My
fellow-traveller lives with them.
The night we arrived, the Governor in some agitation asked me to go
and see his wife, who is very ill. The cholera has only just
disappeared, and the lady had had a baby, which died of it in three
days, and "being a boy her heart was broken," and "something had come
under her arm." So I went with him into the _haram_, which seemed
crowded with women of various races and colours, peeping from behind
curtains and through chinks of doors, tittering and whispering. The
wife's room is richly carpeted and thoroughly comfortable, with a huge
charcoal brazier in the centre, and cushions all over the floor,
except at one end, where there is a raised alcove with a bed in it.
On this the lady sat--a rather handsome Kurdish woman, about
thirty-five, dressed in a silk quilted jacket, and with a black gauze
handkerchief round her head, and a wadded quilt over her crossed legs.
She was supported by a pile of pillows. Since then I have been sent
for to see her several times every day, and found her always in the
same position. There is surely something weird about it. She says she
sits there all night, and has not lain down for two months. A black
slave was fanning her, and two women, shrouded in veils of tinselled
gauze, sat on the bed combing her luxuriant hair. She is not really
beautiful at all, but her husband assures me constantly that she is
"_une femme savante_." She has property and the consideration which
attaches to it. She was burning with fever and very weak.
I had scarcely returned to my room when my host sent again, begging
that I would go back and see the doctor. I found that it was expected
that I should persuade the lady to consent to have the abscess, or
whatever it is, reopened. The room was full of women and eunuchs, and
the chief eunuch, an elderly Arab, sat on the bed and supported her
while the doctor dressed the wound, and even helped him with it. Her
screams were fearful, and five people held her with difficulty. Her
husband left the room, unable to bear her cries.
Quite late I was sent for again, and that time by the lady, to know if
I thought she would die. It appears that her brother, the judge,
remains here to see that she is not the victim of foul play, but I
don't like to ask to whom the suspicion points, or whether our host,
although the civil governor, keeps him here that he may not be
suspected in case his rich wife dies.
Except for the repeated summonses to the sick-room, a walk on the
slime of the roof when the rain ceases for a time, and on the balcony
of the _haram_ when it does not, and a study of the habits of my
neighbours over the way, it is very dull. I have patched and mended
everything that gave any excuse for either operation, have written
letters which it is not safe to post, and have studied my one book on
Persia till I know it throughout, and still the rain falls nearly
without cessation and the quagmires outside deepen.
So bad is it that, dearly as Orientals love bazars and _hammams_,
Hadji refuses leave to go to either. I remarked to him that he must be
glad of such a rest, and he replied in his usual sententious fashion:
"They who have to work must work. God knows all." I fear he is very
lazy, and he has no idea of making one comfortable or of keeping
anything clean. He stamps the mud of the courtyard into the carpets,
and wipes my plates without washing them, with his shirt. He considers
that our host has attained the height of human felicity. "What is
there left to wish for?" he says. "He has numbers of slaves, and he's
always buying more, and he's got numbers of women and eunuchs, and
everything, and when he wants money he just sends round the villages.
God is great! _Ya Allah!_"
Khannikin, being the nearest town to the Persian frontier, should be a
place of some importance. It is well situated at an altitude of 1700
feet among groves of palms, on both banks of the Holwan, and having
plenty of water, the rich alluvium between it and Yakobiyeh is able to
support its own population, though it has to import for caravans. Most
of the Persian trade with Baghdad and thousands of Shiah pilgrims
annually pass through it. It is a customs station, and has a regiment
of soldiers. Nevertheless, it is very ruinous, and its population has
diminished of late years from 5000 to about 1800 (exclusive of the
troops), and of this number a fifth have been carried off by cholera
within the last few weeks. It has no schools, and no special
industries. The stamp of decay rests upon it. Exactions, crushing
hope out of the people, the general insecurity of property, and the
misrule which has blighted these fine Asiatic provinces everywhere,
sufficiently explain its decadence.
The imposition of quarantine on arrivals from Persia has all but
stopped the supply of charcoal, and knowing the scarcity in the house,
I am going without a fire, as most of the inhabitants are doing. A
large caravanserai outside the walls is used as a quarantine station,
and three others are taken as lazarettos. Out of these arrangements
the officials make a great deal of money in fees, but anything more
horrible than the sanitary state of these places cannot be conceived.
The water appears to be the essence of typhoid fever and cholera, and
the unfortunate _detenus_ are crowded into holes unfit for beasts,
breathing pestiferous exhalations, and surrounded by such ancient and
modern accumulations of horrors that typhus fever, cholera, and even
the plague might well be expected to break out.
Yesterday, for a brief interval, hills covered with snow appeared
through rolling black clouds, and a change seemed probable, but rain
fell in torrents all night; there is a spate in the river, and though
we were ready to start at eight this morning, the _katirgis_ declined
to move, saying that the road could not be travelled because of the
depth of the fords and the mud.
The roof, though a good one, is now so leaky that I am obliged to
sleep under my waterproof cloak, and the un-puttied window-frames let
in the rain. Early this morning a gale from the south-west came on,
and the howling and roaring have been frightful, the rain falling in
sheets most of the time. Sensations are not wanting. One of the
orderlies is seriously ill, and has to be left behind under medical
care till he can be sent to India,--the second man who has broken
down. A runner came in with the news that all caravans are stopped in
the Zagros mountains by snow, which has been falling for five days,
and that the road is not expected to be open for a fortnight. Later,
the Persian agent called to say that on the next march the road, which
is carried on a precipice above the river, has slid down bodily, and
that there are fifteen feet of water where there should be only two.
Of course this prolonged storm is "exceptional." The temperature is
falling, and it is so cold without a fire that though my bed is only a
blanket-covered dais of brick and lime, dripped upon continually, in a
window with forty draughts, I am glad to muffle myself up in its
blankets and write among wraps.
The Governor, recognising the craze of Europeans for exercise, sent
word that M---- might walk in the balcony of the _haram_ if I went to
chaperon him, and this great concession was gladly accepted, for it
was the only possible way of getting warm. The apparition of a strange
man, and a European, within the precincts of the _haram_ was a great
event, and every window, curtain, and doorway was taken advantage of
by bright dark eyes sparkling among folds of cotton and gauze. The
enjoyment was surreptitious, but possibly all the more keen, and
sounds of whispering and giggling surged out of every crevice. There
are over thirty women, some of them negresses. Some are Kurds and very
handsome, but the faces of the two handsomest, though quite young,
have something fiendish in their expression. I have seldom seen a
_haram_ without its tragedies of jealousy and hate, and every fresh
experience makes me believe that the system is as humiliating to men
as it is to women.
The _haram_ reception-rooms here are large and bright, with roofs and
cornices worked daintily in very white plaster, and there are superb
carpets on the floors, and divans covered with Damascus embroidery in
gold silk on cream muslin.
Each day the demands for my presence in the sick-room are more
frequent, and though I say that I can scarcely aspire to be a nurse,
they persist in thinking that I am a _Haki[=i]m_, and possibly a
useful spy on the doctor. I have become aware that unscrupulous
jealousy of the principal wife exists, and, as is usual in the East,
everybody distrusts everybody else, and prefers to trust strangers.
The husband frequently asks me to remove what seems a cancerous
tumour, and the doctor says that an operation is necessary to save the
lady's life, but when I urge him to perform it, and offer a nurse's
help, he replies that if she were to die he would be at once accused
of murder, and would run a serious risk.
The Governor to-day was so anxious that I should persuade the lady to
undergo an operation that he even brought Hadji into the room to
interpret what I said in Arabic. His ceaseless question is, "Will she
die?" and she asks me the same many times every day. She insists that
I shall be present each day when the wound is dressed, and give help,
lest the doctor without her leave should plunge a knife into the
swelling. These are most distressing occasions, for an hour of
struggle and suffering usually ends in delirium.
This afternoon, however, she was much freer from pain, and sent for me
to amuse her. She wore some fine jewels, and some folds of tinselled
gauze round her head, and looked really handsome and intelligent. Her
husband wished that we could converse without his imperfect
interpreting, and repeated many times, "She is a learned woman, and
can write and read several languages." The room was as usual full of
women, who had removed their veils at their lord's command. I showed
the lady some Tibetan sketches, but when I came to one of a man the
women replaced their veils!
When I showed some embroidery, the Governor said he had heard that the
Queen of England employed herself with her needle in leisure hours,
but that it is not _comme il faut_ here for ladies to work. It seems
that the making of sweetmeats is the only occupation which can be
pursued without loss of dignity. Is it wonderful that intolerable
_ennui_ should be productive of the miserable jealousies, rivalries,
intrigues, and hatreds which accompany the system of polygamy?
The host, although civil governor of a large district, also suffers
from _ennui_. The necessary official duties are very light, and the
accounts and reports are prepared by others. If money is wanted he
makes "an exaction" on a village, and subordinates screw it out of the
people. Justice, or the marketable commodity which passes for such, is
administered by a _kadi_. He clatters about the balconies with
slippered feet, is domestic, that is, he spends most of the day in the
_haram_, smokes, eats two meals of six or seven courses each, and
towards evening takes a good deal of wine, according to a habit which
is becoming increasingly common among the higher classes of Moslems.
He is hospitable, and is certainly anything but tyrannical in his
household.
The customs and ways of the first Turkish house I have visited in
would be as interesting to you as they were to myself, but it would be
a poor return for hospitality to dwell upon anything, unless, like the
difficulties regarding the illness of the principal wife, it were a
matter of common notoriety.
It is a punishable act in Persia, and possibly here also, to look into
a neighbour's house, but I cannot help it unless I were to avoid the
window altogether. Wealth and poverty are within a few feet of each
other, and as Moslems are charitable to a degree and in a manner
which puts us to shame, the juxtaposition is advantageous.
My neighbour's premises consist of a very small and mean yard, now a
foot deep in black mire, a cow-shed, and a room without door or
windows, with a black uneven floor, and black slimy rafters--neither
worse nor better than many hovels in the Western Isles of Scotland. A
man in middle life, a woman of dubious age, two girls from eight to
ten years old, and a boy a little older are the occupants. The
furniture consists of some wadded quilts, a copper pot, an iron
girdle, a clay ewer or two, a long knife, a wooden spoon, a clay
receptacle for grain, two or three earthenware basins, glazed green,
and a wicker tray. The cow-shed contains--besides the cow, which is
fed on dried thistles--a spade, an open basket, and a baggage pad. A
few fowls live in the house, and are disconcerted to find that they
cannot get out of it without swimming.
The weather is cold and raw, fuel is enormously dear, work is at a
standstill, and cold and _ennui_ keep my neighbours in bed till the
day is well advanced. "Bed" consists of a wadded quilt laid on the
floor, with another for a covering. The man and boy sleep at one end
of the room, the woman and girls at the other, with covered heads.
None make any change in their dress at night, except that the man
takes off the _pagri_ of his turban, retaining only a skull cap.
The woman gets up first, lights a fire of tamarisk twigs and thistles
in a hole in the middle of the floor, makes porridge of some coarse
brownish flour and water, and sets it on to warm--to _boil_ it, with
the means at her disposal, is impossible. She wades across the yard,
gives the cow a bunch of thistles, milks it into a basin, adds a
little leaven to the milk, which she shakes in a goat skin till it is
thick, carries the skin and basket to the house, feeds the fowls from
the basket, and then rouses her lord. He rises, stretches himself,
yawns, and places himself cross-legged by the fire, after putting on
his _pagri_. The room is dense with pungent wood smoke, which escapes
through the doorway, and only a few embers remain. The wife hands him
an earthen bowl, pours some porridge into it, adds some "thick milk"
from the goat skin, and stands before him with her arms crossed while
he eats, then receives the bowl from his hands and kisses it, as is
usual with the slaves in a household.
Then she lights his pipe, and while he enjoys it she serves her boy
with breakfast in the same fashion, omitting the concluding ceremony,
after which she and the girls retire to a respectful distance with the
big pot, and finish its contents simultaneously. The pipe over, she
pours water on her lord's hands, letting it run on the already damp
floor, and wipes them with her _chadar_. No other ablution is
customary in the house.
Poor as this man is, he is a Hadji, and having brought from Mecca a
"prayer stone," with the Prophet's hand upon it, he takes it from his
girdle, puts it on the floor, bows his forehead on it, turning
Mecca-ward, and says his prayers, repeating his devotions towards
evening. The first day or two he went out, but the roads now being
almost impassable, he confines himself to the repairing of a small
dyke, which keeps the water from running into the room, which is lower
than the yard, and performs its duty very imperfectly, the soak from
the yard and the drip from the roof increasing the sliminess hourly.
These repairs, an occasional pipe, and much sleep are the record of
this man's day till an hour before sunset, when the meal of the
morning is repeated with the addition of some cheese.
The children keep chiefly in bed. Meanwhile the woman, the busy bee of
the family, contrives to patter about nearly all day in wet clothing,
carrying out rubbish in single handfuls, breaking twigs, cleaning the
pot, and feeding the cow. The roof, which in fine weather is the scene
of most domestic occupations, is reached by a steep ladder, and she
climbs this seven times in succession, each time carrying up a fowl,
to pick for imaginary worms in the slimy mud. Dyed yarn is also
carried up to steep in the rain, and in an interval of dryness some
wool was taken up and carded. An hour before sunset she lights the
fire, puts on the porridge, and again performs seven journeys with
seven fowls, feeds them in the house, attends respectfully to her
lord, feeds her family, including the cow, paddles through mire to
draw water from the river, and unrolls and spreads the wadded quilts.
By the time it is dark they are once more in bed, where I trust this
harmless, industrious woman enjoys a well-earned sleep.