Clearing the way—Leaving Daha—My father was well cleaned last
night—The wonderful medicine—Charging the snow-drifts—Turkoman
steeds—The Persians—The lieutenant—Zedhane—Molla
Suleiman—Toprak Kale—A sanguinary drama—The Caimacan—The
rivals—An Armenian peasant—The marriage ceremony—The
Circassian Governor—The Kurd's mother—Revenge—His father's
bones—The Circassian's wives—The Governor in bed—The fight—The
feud between the Kurds and Circassians—Camels in the water.
On the morrow we were up before daybreak, and not only ourselves, but
almost all the male inhabitants of the village. They had turned out,
some on horseback and others with spades and shovels, to try and force
a passage through the snow. In addition to these men there were two
caravans, comprising between them over 200 camels, and accompanied by
fifty Persians. It was very cold. The lieutenant was doubtful whether
we should succeed in clearing a way before us. According to the Kurd,
there were still six feet of snow in many places along the track.
Just as we were leaving Daha, the eldest son of my host approached and
apologized for the absence of his father. There was evidently something
on the lad's mind, he hesitated as he said "Good-bye."
"Is there anything I can do for you?" I observed.
"Yes, Effendi, there is," said the boy, delighted at the ice being thus
broken for him. "But I am afraid to ask for it."
I now began to be a little alarmed, thinking that possibly the lad had
set his heart on possessing my little express rifle or revolver, both
of which he had much admired on the previous evening.
"What is it?"
"Effendi," replied the boy, "I know that it is contrary to our ideas of
hospitality for a host to ask for a present from a guest; but in this
case my father—"
"What does he want?" I remarked a little hastily, as it was anything
but agreeable sitting still in the cold.
"He was so well cleaned last evening," continued the lad; "he has never
been so well cleaned before! He would like you to give him some more of
that wonderful medicine."
All the luggage was on the pack-horses. But the boy so entreated me to
comply with his request that I could not refuse. Unpacking my bag, I
gave him a box of pills. The lad's face became radiant with delight.
Taking off the lid, he took out a couple and ate them on the spot. Then,
touching his head with my hand, he hurried off in another direction.
"He is a rogue," said Mohammed, chuckling. "He does not want the
medicine for his father. It is for himself. He wants to set up as a
hakim in the village. When once it is known that you have given him some
medicine, he will be a person of great importance in the neighbourhood."
Presently we came to a place where the camels, which were in the van of
our party, had come to a halt. One of the animals had almost disappeared
in a snow-drift, nothing save his long neck could be seen. The men
coaxed and whipped their unruly beasts, all was to no purpose, they
would not move a step.
I thought that we should have to dig out the road with shovels. However,
the Kurd who directed the operations did not resort to this measure.
Ordering one of the Persians to make his camels retire about 200 yards,
the Kurd called twenty of the best mounted of the villagers to his side,
then striking his horse and shouting wildly, he galloped along the track
and charged the drift. In a second or two nothing could be seen but the
head of the rider, his steed was entirely hidden from our view. After a
few struggles the man backed the animal out of the snow, having made a
hole in it some twenty feet long by four wide. The next horseman rode
at the place, like his leader. Each Kurd followed in succession. They
finally forced a passage.
It was a wild sight to witness—these Kurds in their quaint head-dresses,
and on strong, fine-looking steeds of Turkoman breed, many of them
quite sixteen hands high, charging the snow-drifts, yelling and invoking
Allah—the Persians, phlegmatic and still, seemingly not caring a straw
about the matter—the lieutenant encouraging the Kurds by cries and
gesticulations, but having too great a regard for his own safety to
gallop at the ridges—and the leading horseman now far in front, his
horse apparently swimming through the snow as he slowly burst the
barrier.
It was hard work even following in the steps of the Kurds. If a horse
or camel deviated a hair's breadth from the line marked out, he would be
often buried in a drift, and a long time be wasted in extricating him.
The track led over a succession of rising ground until we reached
Zedhane, an Armenian village with about thirty houses.
We were close to the village of Molla Suleiman, and were not far from
Toprak Kale—a town in which a sanguinary drama had been enacted but a
very few months previous. I will relate the story as it has been told
me by an eye-witness of part of the scene.
Four years ago a Kurd was Caimacan at Toprak Kale. His grandfather had
been a sort of king at Bayazid; the family being well off and having
relatives married to some magnates in Stamboul, had considerable
influence in the district. However, many complaints had been made about
the conduct of this Caimacan. He was removed from his post. It was given
to a Circassian. This gave rise to a feud between the ex- and the new
governors—the Kurd often vowing vengeance against his newly-appointed
successor. Shortly before my informant's visit to Toprak Kale, the
Kurd's father had died. His family was in mourning.
An Armenian peasant, who resided in Toprak Kale, was about to be
married. It is the custom amongst the Christians in this part of Asia
Minor, when the wedding ceremony is concluded, to beat drums, hire a
band of what they call musicians, and fire guns in the air, as a sign
of general rejoicing.
The peasant, knowing that the Kurd's father had recently died, went to
the ex-Caimacan, and asked his permission for the wedding to take place,
as it would be impossible to have it without the music, gun-firing, &c.
The Kurd consented, provided that he received a present, this the
Armenian gladly promised to give. The marriage ceremony began, but when
the Armenians in Toprak Kale commenced beating drums, &c., the noise
reached the Kurd's mother's ears. She hastened to her son, asked him how
he could allow people to insult his father's memory, and insisted that
he should instantly put a stop to the proceedings.
The son allowed himself to be persuaded, and sent some servants, who
broke in the heads of the drums. The peasant was very indignant. He
at once proceeded to the Circassian, the actual Caimacan, and related
everything that had happened.
"Did the Kurd accept a present from you?" inquired the governor.
"Yes."
"Very well," continued the Caimacan, "go back to your house. My servants
shall accompany you. Make more noise than before. Get more drums; beat
them harder than ever, and do not spare your powder. I will show the
people in Toprak Kale who is Caimacan—the Kurd or myself."
This was done. When it came to the ears of the Kurd's mother, she told
him that he must be revenged on the foe, or his father's bones would not
be able to rest in peace in the tomb. The Kurd consented. That evening
he went to the Caimacan's house, accompanied by two of his brothers,
and inquired of a servant where his master was.
"In the harem," replied the attendant, much surprised at so late a visit
on the part of the ex-Caimacan.
"Go and tell him I am here," said the Kurd; then, without waiting for
an answer, he pushed aside the man, and tried to force a way into the
apartment reserved for the Circassian's wives. The governor was in bed
at the time. He heard the noise: snatching his sword from the sheath,
he rushed to the entrance. The Kurd fired at him with a pistol, the
ball going through the Circassian's shoulder; but the latter was able to
cut down his foe. The Kurd's relatives now rushed upon the governor. He
called loudly for assistance; his brother, who slept in another room,
hurried to the rescue, the result of the encounter being that three
of the opponents were killed, whilst the Circassian governor was left
desperately wounded on the field of battle.
In the meantime hundreds of Kurds, who had heard of the disturbance,
came down from the adjacent mountain. They vowed that they would kill
every Circassian in the neighbourhood. The Circassians trooped into
Toprak Kale, and swore that they would exterminate the Kurds.
Fortunately the gentleman who related this story to me was able to
despatch a mounted Armenian to the governor at Bayazid asking him
to send some troops to the scene of the disturbance. The soldiers
arrived in time to prevent a battle royal between the two factions.
This probably would have ended in the annihilation of every Kurd and
Circassian in the district, neither side being inclined to grant any
quarter to its foe.
We rode through Molla Suleiman. All the houses in this village were
filled with soldiery. On emerging into the open country I found that
the path in front of us was blocked by a caravan coming from Persia. A
pond was on the right-hand side of the path. The leading camel-driver
led his animals along the frozen water, so as to avoid a collision with
our party. He miscalculated the thickness of the ice; a loud splash made
us aware that it had given way beneath the camels. Five of the huge
beasts were sprawling in the water, here about five feet deep; their
packs, containing timbaki, Persian tobacco, became dripping wet. The
animals, frightened at the breaking of the ice, lay down on all fours.
They refused to get up, in spite of the cries and the whips of their
drivers.