Chapter XXV

A Forward Policy

Frontier medical missions--Their value as outposts--Ancient

Christianity in Central Asia--Kafiristan: a lost opportunity of the

Christian Church--Forcible conversion to Islam--Fields for missionary

enterprise beyond the North-West Frontier--The first missionaries

should be medical men--An example of the power of a medical mission

to overcome opposition--The need for branch dispensaries--Scheme of

advance--Needs 305-312

Glossary 314-318

Index 319-324

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Dr. Pennell Travelling as a Sadhu Frontispiece

A Khattak Sword-Dancer 28

A Zyarat or Shrine on the Takht-i-Suliman 34

A Group of Lepers at a Zyarat or Shrine in Hazara 36

The Khaiber Pass. A Village in the Pass 46

A Cavalry Shutur-sowar, or Camel-rider 46

Types of Frontier Tribesmen 50

Bannu Villagers 56

The Khaiber Pass. Khaiber Rifle Sepoy on the Watch 62

The Result of a Blood-Feud 82

A Transborder Afghan bringing his Family to the Hospital 82

Bannu Mission. A Group of Patients 94

A Group of Out-patients at the Mission Hospital 94

Travelling by Riding Camel 100

Itineration by Means of Ekkas and Mules 100

Ferrying across the River Indus 112

Travelling down the Indus on a "Kik" 112

Mahsud Labourers at Work in Bannu Cantonment 148

Bannu Mission. A Group of Students 148

A Football Match at Bannu 154

The Bannu Football Team 154

The Chief Bazaar, Peshawur City 156

The Bazaar in Peshawur City 156

The Indus in Flood-time 158

A Ferryboat for the Mail on the Indus River 158

A Modern "Black Hole" 164

Boy and Girl grazing Buffaloes 170

Women carrying Waterpots 196

Women going for water at Shimvah 198

Water-carrying at Shimvah 198

Near Shinkiari, Hazara District 208

A Muhammadan Faqir 212

Dr. Pennell 244

Flour Mills near Shinkiari 278

Map of the North-West Frontier Province 313

Map of the North-West Frontier of India 318

TABLE OF THE CHIEF SOUNDS REPRESENTED IN THE

GOVERNMENT SYSTEM OF TRANSLITERATION

a = short u, as in "bun."

á = broad a, as in "mast."

i = short i, as in "bin."

í = ee, as in "oblique."

e = a, as in "male."

o = long o, as in "note."

u = short oo, as in "foot."

ú = long oo, as in "boot."

q = guttural k.

kh = ch, as in "loch."

gh = guttural r, not used in English.

' = the Arabic letter 'ain, a guttural not used in English.

PRONUNCIATION OF THE PRINCIPAL ORIENTAL WORDS USED IN THIS BOOK

Afghán Jahán Nizám

Afghánistán Jamála Panjáb

Afrídi Jelálábad Panjábi

Alláhu Akbar Kabír Pathán

Amír Kábul Patwár

Badakshán Káfir Pesháwur

Baltistán Kálabágh Qurán

Bengáli Kalám Rám

Bezwáda Karáchi Ramazán

Bhágalpur Karím Risáldár

Bukhára Khalífa Ríshíkes

Chenáb Khorasán Sádhu

Chilás Kohát Sanyási

Chinárak Laghmáni Saragári

Chitrál Loháni Sardár

Deraját Majíd Sarkár

Dharmsála Málik Subadár

Ghulám Mirzáda Sulíman

Hákim (ruler) Mughál Tálib

Hakím (doctor) Multán Tamána

Hardwár Nának Tiráh

Hazára Nárowál Waziristán

Islám Nezabázi

AMONG THE WILD TRIBES OF THE AFGHAN FRONTIER

CHAPTER I

THE AFGHAN CHARACTER

Paradoxical--Ideas of honour--Blood-feuds--A sister's revenge--The

story of an outlaw--Taken by assault--A jirgah and its unexpected

termination--Bluff--An attempt at kidnapping--Hospitality--A

midnight meal--An ungrateful patient--A robber's death--An Afghan

dance--A village warfare--An officer's escape--Cousins.

The East is the country of contradictions, and the Afghan character is

a strange medley of contradictory qualities, in which courage blends

with stealth, the basest treachery with the most touching fidelity,

intense religious fanaticism with an avarice which will even induce

him to play false to his faith, and a lavish hospitality with an

irresistible propensity for thieving.

There are two words which are always on an Afghan's tongue--izzat

and sharm. They denote the idea of honour viewed in its positive and

negative aspects, but what that honour consists in even an Afghan

would be puzzled to tell you. Sometimes he will consider that he

has vindicated his honour by a murder perpetrated with the foulest

treachery; at other times it receives an indelible stain if at some

public function he is given a seat below some rival chief.

The vendetta, or blood-feud, has eaten into the very core of Afghan

life, and the nation can never become healthily progressive till public

opinion on the question of revenge alters. At present some of the best

and noblest families in Afghanistan are on the verge of extermination

through this wretched system. Even the women are not exempt. In 1905,

at Bannu, there was a case where a man had been foully murdered over

some disputed land. It was generally known who the murderer was, but

as he and his relations were powerful and likely to stick at nothing,

and the murdered man had no near relation except one sister, no one

was willing to risk his own skin in giving evidence, so when the case

came up in court the Judge was powerless to convict.

"Am I to have no justice at the hands of the Sarkar?" passionately

cried the sister in her despair. "Bring me witnesses, and I will

convict," was all the Judge could reply. "Very well; I must find my own

way;" and the girl left the court to take no rest till her brother's

blood, which was crying to her from the ground, should be avenged.

Shortly after this I was sitting in a classroom of the mission

school teaching the boys. It was a Friday morning, when thousands

of the hillmen come in to the weekly fair, and the bazaars are

full of a shouting, jostling throng, the murmur of which reaches

even the schoolroom. Suddenly a shot was heard, and then a confused

shouting. Running out on to the street hard by, I found a Wazir, quite

dead, shot through the heart. It was the murderer who had escaped the

justice of the law, but not the hand of the avenger, for the sister

had concealed a revolver on her person, and coming up to her enemy in

the crowded bazaar, had shot him point-blank. She was arrested there

and then, and the court condemned her to penal servitude for life. I

met her some weeks later as she was on the march with some other

prisoners to their destination in the Andaman Islands. Resignation and

satisfaction were her dominant feelings. "I have avenged my brother;

for the rest, it is God's will: I am content." Those were the words

in which she answered my inquiries.

The officer who has most power with the Pathans is the one who,

while transparently just, yet deals with them with a strong hand,

whose courage is beyond question, and who, when once his mind is made

up, does not hesitate in the performance of his plans. To such a one

they are loyal to the backbone, and will go through fire and water

in his train.

"Tender-handed grasp a nettle,

It will sting you for your pains;

Grasp it like a man of mettle,

Soft as silk it then remains."

This has its counterpart in a Pashtu proverb, and is no doubt a true

delineation of the Afghan character.

Some years ago some outlaws had fortified a village a few miles across

the border, and had there bidden defiance to the authorities while

carrying on their depredations among the frontier villages, where

they raided many a wealthy Hindu, and even carried off the rifles

from the police posts. The leader of the gang was Sailgai. His father

was Mian Khan, a Wazir of the Sparkai clan. When still a boy Sailgai

showed great aptitude and skill in archery, and when about fifteen

he commenced rifle-shooting, and soon became a noted marksman. This,

however, led him to associate with the desperadoes of the clan, and

before long he became the leader of a gang which used to go out at

night-time to break into shops and into the houses of rich Hindus. When

this occupation began to pall on him he became a highway robber, and

lay in wait with his confederates in various parts of the Kohat-Bannu

road to waylay and rob travellers both by day and night. The next

step onward--or downwards, we should say--was to become the leader

of a gang of dacoits. These men would enter a village, usually in

the late evening, and hold up the inhabitants while they looted the

houses of the rich Hindus at leisure. On these occasions they often

cut off the ears of the women as the simplest way of getting their

earrings; and fingers, too, suffered in the same way if the owner did

not remove his rings quickly enough. At the same time Sailgai became

a professional murderer, and used to take two hundred to four hundred

rupees for disposing of anyone obnoxious to the payer.

Still, up to this time he had contrived to keep clear of the police,

and had never been caught. If anyone informed against him he soon

discovered who the informant was, and paid him a night visit, only

leaving after he had either killed him or taken a rich ransom. Some

eight years ago he took two hundred rupees for killing a Bizun

Khel Wazir, and went to his house one evening with fifteen of his

followers. The Wazir, however, got a warning, and made a bold stand,

and Sailgai had to fire seven times before he despatched him, and

by that time the brother of the deceased had fetched some police and

followed up in chase of Sailgai. When, however, the police saw that

they had a well-armed band to contend with, although about equal in

number to the Wazirs, they beat a hasty retreat, with the exception

of one man, who opened fire on the murderers at two hundred paces,

but was hit and disabled, so that Sailgai and his party got away in

safety. Government gave a reward to this, the one brave man, and put

a price on Sailgai's head, so that he could no longer enter British

territory except by stealth, and he retired to his fort at Gumatti,

which he strengthened and made the base for marauding expeditions on

Government territory.

These subsequently became so frequent and so successful that the

Indian Government was finally constrained to send up a column under

Colonel Tonnochy, who was in command of the 53rd Sikhs at Bannu,

to destroy his fort once for all. Before the guns opened fire the

Political Officer, Mr. Donald, walked up alone to the loopholes of

his fort to offer Sailgai and his fellow-defenders terms. Knowing well

the long list of crimes that would be proved against him, he replied

that he had determined to sell his life as dearly as possible in the

fort where he had been born and bred; and we must say, to his credit,

that they restrained their fire till Mr. Donald got back to his own

lines. Colonel Tonnochy brought the guns up to within sixty yards

of the fort, and while directing their operations he was mortally

wounded. When the tower was finally taken by storm, all Sailgai's

companions were dead, and he himself wounded in four places. He,

however, with a last effort took aim at the British officer, Captain

White, who was bravely leading the assault, and shot him dead, and was

almost at the same moment despatched by that officer's orderly. Wazirs

from Gumatti, as well as from all the rest of the neighbourhood,

are constantly coming to the mission dispensary, and some of them

have been in-patients. The police munshi who made the bold stand

above mentioned was himself treated for his wound in our hospital.

The Afghan has in some respects such inordinate vanity in connection

with his peculiar ideas of sharm, and is so hot-headed in resenting

some fancied insult, that he sometimes places himself in a ridiculous

position, from which he finds it difficult to extricate himself

without still further sacrificing his honour.

An instance of this occurred in December, 1898. The mission school

athletic sports were in progress in the mission compound, and the

political officers of the Tochi and Wano were engaged not far off

in a jirgah of the representatives of the Mahsud and Darwesh Khel

sections of the Wazirs. Suddenly the cry was raised, "The Wazirs have

attacked us!" and for a short time all was confusion. Wazirs were seen

rushing pell-mell into school, bungalow, and other buildings, and a

great part of the spectators who had gathered to see the sports fled

in confusion. It transpired, however, that, so far from the Wazirs

desiring to do us any injury, they were the Mahsuds in flight from

the Darwesh Khels, who were hot in pursuit, chasing them even into the

mission buildings where they had sought refuge. The council had been

proceeding satisfactorily, and with apparently amicable relations on

both sides, when a Darwesh Khel malik, in the excitement of debate,

gesticulated too close to the seat of the Political Officer. A Mahsud

orderly, thinking he was disrespectful to the officer, pushed him back

with needless force, so that the malik slipped and fell. The Darwesh

Khels round him at once set on the orderly, saying he had done it of

malice prepense, and began to beat him. In another moment the whole

assembly were frantically attacking each other; but the Mahsuds,

being very decidedly in the minority, found safety in flight, and,

our mission compound being the nearest rallying-place, had come down

upon us in this unceremonious manner, with the Darwesh Khels in hot

pursuit. Fortunately, no serious injury resulted, and both parties

were soon laughing at their own foolish hot-headedness.

Bluff is a very prominent characteristic of the Afghan, and this makes

him appear more formidable than he really is to those who are not

acquainted with his character. He is also a great bully and exults in

cruelty, so that he becomes a veritable tyrant to those who have fallen

into his power or are overawed by his bluff. At the same time, he has

a profound reverence for the personification of power or brute force,

and becomes a loyal and devoted follower of those whom he believes to

be his superiors. It is often asked of me whether I carry a revolver

or other arms when travelling about among these wild tribes. For a

missionary to do so would not only be fatal to his chance of success,

but would be a serious and constant danger. It would be impossible

for him to be always on his guard; there must be times when, through

fatigue or other reasons, he is at the mercy of those among whom he is

dwelling. Besides this, there is nothing which an Afghan covets more,

or to steal which he is more ready to risk his life, than firearms;

and though he might not otherwise wish harm to the missionary, the

possibility of securing a good revolver or gun would be too great a

temptation, even though he had to shed blood to secure it. My plan was,

therefore, to put myself entirely in their hands, and let them see

that I was trusting to their sense of honour and to their traditional

treatment of a guest for my safety.

At the same time, I was rather at pains than otherwise to let them

see that the bluff to which they sometimes resorted had no effect

upon me, and that I was indifferent to their threats and warnings,

which, as often as not, were just a ruse on their part to see how far

they could impose on me. Once, when I was in a trans-border village,

resting a few hours in the heat of the day, some young bloods arrived

who had just come in from a raid, and were still in the excitement

of bloodshed. Some of them thought it would be a good opportunity to

bait the Daktar Sahib, and one of them, holding his loaded revolver

to my chest, said: "Now we are going to shoot you." I replied:

"You will be very great fools if you do, because I am of more use to

you than to myself, and you would as likely as not poison yourselves

with my drugs if I were not there to tell you how to use them." At

this the senior man of the party rebuked them, and offered me a kind

of apology for their rudeness, saying: "They are only young fellows,

and they are excited. Do not mind what they say. We will see that no

harm comes to you." On another occasion I came to a village across

the border rather late at night. There were numerous outlaws in the

village, but the chief under whose protection I placed myself took the

precaution of putting my bed in the centre of six of his retainers,

fully armed, in a circle round me, one or two of whom were to keep

watch in turns. I had had a hard day's work, and was soon sound asleep,

and this was my safety, because I was told in the morning that some

of the more fanatical spirits had wanted to kill me in the night,

but the others said: "See, he has trusted himself entirely to our

protection, and because he trusts us he is sleeping so soundly;

therefore, no harm must be done to him in our village."

Not long ago there was a notorious outlaw on the frontier called

Rangin, who had been making a practice of kidnapping rich Hindus,

and then holding them to ransom. I was in the habit of visiting our

out-station at Kharrak about once a month, and usually went alone

and by night. Information was brought that Rangin, knowing of this,

intended one day to kidnap me, and hold me to a high ransom. The next

time I visited Kharrak, I purposely slept by the roadside all night

in a lonely part, that the people might see that I was not afraid of

Rangin's threats. Needless to say, no harm came of it; but the people

there in the countryside spread the idea that, as there was an angel

protecting the Daktar Sahib, it would be a useless act of folly to

try to do him an injury.

Although the honour which an Afghan thinks is due to his guest has

often stood me in good stead, yet sometimes the observance of the

correct etiquette has become irksome. A rich chief will be satisfied

with nothing less than the slaying of a sheep when he receives

a guest of distinction; a poorer man will be satisfied with the

slaying of a fowl, and the preparation therefrom of the native dish

called pulao. On one occasion I came to a village with my companions

rather late in the evening. The chief himself was away, but his son

received me with every mark of respect, and killed a fowl and cooked

us a savoury pulao, after which, wearied with the labours of the day,

we were soon fast asleep. Later on, it appeared, the chief himself

arrived, and learnt from his son of our arrival. "Have you killed for

him the dumba?" he at once asked; and, on learning from his son that

he had only prepared a fowl, he professed great annoyance, saying:

"This will be a lasting shame (sharm) for me, if it is known that,

when the Bannu Daktar Sahib came to my village, I cooked for him

nothing more than a fowl. Go at once to the flock, and take a dumba,

and slay and dress it, and, when all is ready, call me." Thus it

came about that about 1 a.m. we were waked up to be told that the

chief had come to salaam us, and that dinner was ready. It would not

only have been useless to protest that we were more in a mood for

sleep than for dinner, but it would also have been an insult to his

hospitality; so we got up with alacrity and the best grace possible,

and after a performance of the usual salutations on both sides, we

buckled to that we might show our appreciation of the luscious feast

of roast mutton and pulao that had been prepared for us.

On one occasion, in turning back to Bannu from a journey across

the frontier, I had an escort of two villainous-looking Afghans,

who appeared as though they would not hesitate at any crime,

however atrocious. They, however, looked after us with the greatest

attention, and brought us safely into Bannu. On arrival there, I

offered them some money as a reward for their good conduct; they,

however, refused it with some show of indignation, saying that to

take money from one who had been their guest would be contrary to

their best traditions. Consequently, I sent them over to rest for the

night at the house of one of my native assistants, with a note to give

them a good dinner, and send them away early in the morning. He gave

them the dinner, but when he got up in the morning to see them off,

he found that they had already decamped with all his best clothes.

Among the Afghans theft is more or less praiseworthy, according to

the skill and daring shown in its perpetration, and to the success in

the subsequent evasion of pursuit. Two years ago an Afghan brought

his little daughter for an operation on her eye. The operation was

successfully performed, and the day of discharge came. Meanwhile

the eyes of the Afghan had lighted on my mare, and he thought how

useful it would be to him on his travels, and the night following

his discharge we found that he had come with a friend and taken the

horse away. Unfortunately for the success of the undertaking, he had

an enemy, who, when a reward was offered for the discovery of the

thief, thought he might enrich himself and pay off an old grudge

at the same time. The culprit had, however, by this time arrived

with his capture safely across the Afghan frontier into Khost,

and no laws of extradition apply there. Other members of the tribe,

however, reside in British India, and would be going up with their

families into the hills as the heat of summer increased. The Deputy

Commissioner called for the chiefs of the tribe, and informed them

that until they arranged for the return of the mare, he would be

reluctantly compelled to issue orders that they were not to go up

to the hills with their families. At first they protested that they

had no control over the thief, whom they had themselves turned out

of their tribe because he was a rascal; but when they found that

the officer knew them too well to be hoodwinked by their bluff,

they found it convenient to send up into Khost and bring back the

mare. The man through whose instrumentality it was brought back has

posed to me ever since as my benefactor, and expected a variety of

favours in return. The theft was universally reprobated by the tribe,

but chiefly because circumstances had doomed it to failure.

Notorious thieves and outlaws have frequently availed themselves of

the wards of the mission hospital when suffering from some fever

or other disease which has temporarily incapacitated them; but,

of course, they come under assumed names, and otherwise conceal

their identity. It is to be hoped, however, that they benefit

all the same from the addresses and good counsel which they daily

hear while under treatment. Sometimes, as in the case I am about

to relate, their identity becomes known. A few years ago, in Bed

26--the "Southsea" bed--there was Zaman, a noted thief, who came in

suffering from chronic dysentery, and continued under treatment for

over two months. He lingered on, with many ups and downs, but was

evidently past recovery when he came in. He paid much attention to

the Gospel that was read to him, and sometimes professed belief in

it, but showed no signs of repenting of his past career. But when

told eventually that there was no hope of his recovery, he at once

had a police officer summoned, so as to give him the names of some

of his former "pals," hoping thereby not only to get them caught and

punished in revenge for their having thrown him off when too weak and

ill to join in their nefarious practices, but also to gain a reward

for the information given. He gradually sank and died, professing

a belief in Christ; but He alone, who readeth the heart, knoweth. I

do not think he would have turned informer had not his confederates

apparently deserted him in his distress.

No description of Afghan life would be complete which did not give

an account of their public dances. These take place on the 'Id days,

or to celebrate some tribal compact, or the cessation of hostilities

between two tribes or sections. It can only be seen in its perfection

across the border, for in British India the more peaceful habits

of the people and the want of the requisite firearms have caused

it to fall into desuetude. Across the frontier some level piece of

ground is chosen, and a post is fixed in the centre. The men arrange

themselves in ever-widening circles round this centre and gyrate round

it, ever keeping the centre on the left, so as to give greater play

to their sword-arms. The older and less nimble of the warriors form

the inner circles; outside them come the young men, who dance round

with surprising agility, often with a gun in one hand and a sword in

the other, or, it may be, with a sword in each hand, which they wave

alternately in circles round their heads. Outside them, again, circle

the horsemen, showing their agility in the saddle and their skill

with the sword or gun at the same time. On one side are the village

minstrels, who give the tune on drums and pipes. They begin with a slow

beat, and one sees all the circles going round with a measured tread;

then the music becomes more and more rapid, and the dancers become

more and more carried away with excitement, and to the onlooker it

appears a surging mass of waving swords and rifles. The rifles are

as often as not loaded and discharged from time to time, at which the

gyrations of the horsemen on the outside become more and more excited,

and one wonders that heads and arms are not gashed by the swords which

are seen waving everywhere. Suddenly the music ceases, and all stop to

regain their breath, to start again after a few minutes, until they

are tired out. The excitement and the intricate revolutions often

bring the scene to the brink of a real warfare, and not infrequently

it ends in bloodshed. In one instance, where a man fell, and in

falling discharged his rifle with fatal effect into another dancer,

the unintentional murderer would have had his throat cut there and

then had not his friends hurriedly dragged him out and carried him

off to his home, fighting as they went. In this way blood-feuds are

sometimes started, which will divide a village into two factions,

and not end till some of the bravest have fallen victims to it.

On one occasion I was seated with some Afghans in a house in the

village of Peiwar in the Kurram Valley. Most of the houses were on

either side of one long street running the length of the village,

and I noticed that some little doors had been made from house to house

all down the street, and on inquiring the object of this, I was told

that some time before a great faction fight had been carried on in the

village. One side of the street was in one faction and the other side

in the other faction, and they were always in ambush to fire at each

other across the street. The only way to get to the village supply of

water was to go from house to house down to the bottom of the street,

and in order to do this without exposure, doors had been made, while

by common consent they had agreed not to shoot while getting their

supplies from the stream at the bottom. My host went on to show me

sundry holes in his door and in the wooden panels of the windows,

which the bullets of his neighbours across the street had penetrated,

and said: "It was behind that hole in the door there that my uncle

was shot; that hole in the window was made by the bullet which killed

my brother." Pointing to another Afghan who had come into the room

and seated himself on the bed, he said: "That is the man who shot my

brother." On my remarking upon the peace and goodwill in which they

appeared to be living at the present time, he said: "Yes, we are good

friends now, because the debt is even on both sides. I have killed

the same number in his family." After a faction fight of this kind,

the fatalities on both sides are added up, and if they can be found to

be equal, both sides feel that they can make peace without sacrificing

their izzat (honour), and amicable relations are resumed, it being

thought unnecessary to investigate who were the real instigators or

murderers. If, however, one side or the other believes itself to

be still aggrieved, or not to have exacted the full tale of lives

required by the law of revenge, then the feud may go on indefinitely,

until whole families may become nearly exterminated. The avenger will

go on waiting his opportunity for months or years, but he will never

forget; and one will always remember the hunted look and the furtive

expression and nervous handling of the revolver and cartridges which

mark the man who knows that one or more such avenger is on his track.

A Political Officer in the Kurram Valley was once visiting a chief

of the village of Shlozan, who, like all chiefs, had a high tower,

in which he would seek security from his enemies at night. His host

took him up into the tower, after carefully seeing that a window

in the upper story was shut. The officer, thinking he would like

a view of the country round, went to open it, but was hurriedly

and unceremoniously pulled back by the chief, who told him that

his cousin had been watching that window for months in the hope of

having an opportunity of shooting him there. The officer made no

further attempt to look out of the window, but some months later he

heard that his friend the chief, having inadvertently gone to the

open window, had been shot there by his cousin. So universal is the

enmity existing between cousins in Afghanistan that it has become a

proverb that a man is "as great an enemy as a cousin," the causes of

such feuds being such as are more likely to arise between those who

have some relationship. The causes of 90 per cent. of such feuds are

described by the Afghans as belonging to one of three heads--zan, zar,

and zamin, these being the three Persian words meaning women, money,

and land; and disputes are more likely to arise between cousins than

between strangers on such matters as these.

CHAPTER II

AFGHAN TRADITIONS

Israelitish origin of the Afghans--Jewish practices--Shepherd

tradition of the Wazirs--Afridis and their saint--The zyarat

or shrine--Graveyards--Custom of burial--Graves of holy

men--Charms and amulets--The medical practice of a faqir--Native

remedies--First aid to the wounded--Purges and blood-letting--Tooth

extraction--Smallpox.

A controversy as to the origin of the Afghans centres round the

question as to whether they are the children of Israel or not;

and there are two opposing camps, one regarding it as an accepted

historical fact that they are descended from the lost ten tribes of

Israel, and the other repudiating all Israelitish affinities except

such as may have come to them through the Muhammadan religion. The

Afghans themselves--at least, the more intelligent part of the

community--will tell you that they are descended from the tribe of

Benjamin, and will give you their genealogy through King Saul up to

Abraham, and they almost universally apply the term "Bani-Israil,"

or children of Israel, to themselves. Wolff, the traveller, relates

that an Afghan, Mulla Khodadad, gave him the following history:

Saul had a grandson called Afghána, the nephew of Asaph, the son of

Berachiah, who built the Temple of Solomon. One year and a half after

Solomon's death he was banished from Jerusalem to Damascus on account

of misconduct. In the time of Nebuchadnezzar the Jews were driven

out of Palestine and taken to Babylon. The descendants of Afghána

residing at Damascus, being Jews, were also carried to Babylon,

from whence they removed, or were removed, to the mountain of Ghor,

in Afghanistan, their present place of residence, and in the time of

Muhammad they accepted his religion.

To most observers the Afghan has a most remarkably Jewish cast of

features, and often in looking round the visitors of our out-patient

department one sees some old greybeard of pure Afghan descent, and

involuntarily exclaims: "That man might for all the world be one of

the old Jewish patriarchs returned to us from Bible history!" All

Muhammadan nations must, from the origin of their religion, have

many customs and observances which appear Jewish because they were

adopted by Muhammad himself from the Jews around him; but there

are two, at least, met with among Afghans which are not found among

neighbouring Muhammadan peoples, and which strongly suggest a Jewish

origin. The first, which is very common, is that of sacrificing an

animal, usually a sheep or a goat, in case of illness, after which

the blood of the animal is sprinkled over the doorposts of the house

of the sick person, by means of which the angel of death is warded

off. The other, which is much less common, and appears to be dying out,

is that of taking a heifer and placing upon it the sins of the people,

whereby it becomes qurban, or sacrifice, and then it is driven out into

the wilderness. The Afghan, more than most Muhammadans, delights in

Biblical names, and David, Solomon, Abraham, Job, Jacob, and many other

patriarchs, are constant inmates of our hospital wards. New Testament

names, such as King Jesus (Mihtar Esa) and Simon are occasionally met

with. The ceremonies enacted at the Muhammadan "'Id-i-bakr," or Feast

of Sacrifice, have a most extraordinary similarity to the Jewish

Passover; but as these have a religious, and not a racial, origin

and signification, and can be read in any book on Muhammadanism,

it is unnecessary to describe them here. The strongest argument

against their Jewish origin is the almost entire disappearance of

any Hebrew words from their vocabulary; but this may be partly,

at least, explained by their admixture at first with Chaldaic, and

subsequently with Arab, races. The Wazirs have a tradition as to their

origin, which, although its Biblical resemblance may be accidental,

is yet certainly remarkable when found among so wild and barbarous

a race. The tradition is that a certain ancestor had two sons, Issa

and Missa (probably Jesus and Moses). The latter was a shepherd, and

one day while tending his flocks on the hills a lamb strayed away and

could not be found. Missa, leaving his other sheep, went in search of

the lost one. For three days and nights he wandered about the jungle

without being able to find it. On the morning of the fourth day he

found it in some distant valley, and, instead of being wroth with it,

he took it up in his arms, kissed it, and brought it safely back to

the flock. For this humane act God greatly blessed him, and made him

the progenitor of the Wazir tribe. Though it would seem to us more

appropriate had this action been attributed to Issa instead of to

Missa, yet this tradition has often given me a text for explaining

the Gospel story to a crowd of these wild tribesmen.

Though all Afghans are fanatically zealous in the pursuit of their

religion, yet some are so ignorant of its teachings that more

civilized Muhammadans are hardly willing to admit their right to a

place in the congregation of the faithful. The Wazirs, for instance,

who would always be ready to take their share in a religious war, are

not only ignorant of all but the elementary truths of Muhammadanism,

but the worship of saints and graves is the chief form that their

religion takes. The Afridis are not far removed from them in this

respect, and it is related of a certain section of the Afridis that,

having been taunted by another tribe for not possessing a shrine of

any holy man, they enticed a certain renowned Seyyed to visit their

country, and at once despatched and buried him, and boast to this

day of their assiduity in worshipping at his sepulchre.

The frontier hills are often bare enough of fields or habitations, but

one cannot go far without coming across some zyarat, or holy shrine,

where the faithful worship and make their vows. It is very frequently

situated on some mountain-top or inaccessible cliff, reminding one

of the "high places" of the Israelites. Round the grave are some

stunted trees of tamarisk or ber (Zisyphus jujuba). On the branches of

these are hung innumerable bits of rag and pieces of coloured cloth,

because every votary who makes a petition at the shrine is bound

to tie a piece of cloth on as the outward symbol of his vow. In

the accompanying photograph is seen a famous shrine on the Suliman

Range. Despite its inaccessibility, hundreds of pilgrims visit this

yearly, and sick people are carried up in their beds, with the hope

that the blessing of the saint may cure them. Sick people are often

carried on beds, either strapped on camels or on the shoulders of

their friends, for considerably more than a hundred miles to one or

other of these zyarats. In some cases it may reasonably be supposed

that the change from a stuffy, unventilated dark room to the open air,

and the stimulus of change of climate and scenery, has its share in

the cure which often undoubtedly results.

Another feature of these shrines is that their sanctity is so

universally acknowledged that articles of personal property may

be safely left by the owners for long periods of time in perfect

confidence of finding them untouched on their return. This is the more

remarkable, remembering that these tribes are thieves by profession,

and scarcely look upon brigandage as a reprehensible act. The

inhabitants of a mountain village may be migrating to the plains for

the winter months, and they will leave their beds, pots and pans,

and other household furniture, under the trees of some neighbouring

shrine, and they will almost invariably find them on their return,

some months later, exactly as they left them. One distinct advantage

of these shrines is that it is a sin to cut wood from any of the trees

surrounding them. Thus it comes about that the shrines are the only

green spots among the hills which the improvident vandalism of the

tribes has denuded of all their trees and shrubs.

Graves have a special sanctity in the eyes of the Afghans, more

even than in the case of other Muhammadans, and you will generally

see an Afghan, when passing by a graveyard, dismount from his horse

and, turning towards some more prominent tomb, which denotes the

burial-place of some holy man, hold up his hands in the attitude

of Muhammadan prayer, and invoke the blessing of the holy man

on his journey, and then stroke his beard, as is usually done by

the Muhammadans at the conclusion of their prayers. There are few

graveyards which do not boast some such holy man or faqir in their

midst; in fact, as often as not, the chance burial of some such

holy man in an out-of-the-way part determines the site of a cemetery,

because all those in the country round desire to have their graves near

his, in the belief that at the Resurrection Day his sanctity will atone

for any of their shortcomings, and insure for them an unquestionable

entry into bliss. The graves always lie north and south, and after

digging down to a depth determined by the character of the soil,

a niche is hollowed out at one side, usually the western, and the

corpse is laid in the niche, with its face turned towards Mecca. Some

bricks or stones are then laid along the edge of the niche, so that

when the earth is thrown in none of it may fall on the corpse, which

is enveloped in a winding-sheet only, coffins being never used. The

origin of the word "coffin" is possibly from the Arabic word kafn,

which denotes the winding-sheet usually used by Muhammadans. [1]

Great marvels are related about the graves of these holy men, among

the commonest being the belief that they go on increasing in length of

their own accord, the increase of length being a sign of the acceptance

of the prayers of the deceased by the Almighty. Near the mission house

in Peshawur was one such grave, which went on lengthening at the rate

of one foot a year. When it had reached the length of twenty-seven

feet it was seriously encroaching on the public highway, and it was

only after the promulgation of an official order from the district

authorities that the further growth of the holy man should cease that

the grave ceased to expand. This shrine is still famous in the country

round as "the Nine-Yard Shrine," which numbers of devotees visit

every year, in the expectation of obtaining some material benefit.

The use of charms or amulets is practically universal. The children

of the rich may be seen with strings of charms fastened up in little

ornamented silver caskets hung round their neck, while even the

poorest labourer will not be without a charm sewn up in a bit of

leather, which he fastens round his arm or his neck. These charms are

most usually verses out of the Quran, transcribed by some Mullah of

repute and blessed by him; others are cabalistic sentences or words,

while some are mere bits of paper or rag which have been blessed by

a holy man. On more than one occasion I have found my prescriptions

made up into charms, the patient believing that this would be

more efficacious than drinking the hospital medicines; in fact,

one patient assured me that he had never suffered from rheumatism,

to which he had previously been subject, after he had tied round his

arm a prescription in which I had ordered him some salicylate of soda,

although he had never touched the drug. In one instance I found that

a man who had been given some grey powders, with directions how to

use them, had instead fastened them up, paper and all, into a little

packet, which he had sewn up in leather and fastened round his neck,

with, he told me, very beneficial result. From this it can be readily

understood that Mullahs and faqirs who pretend to have the power of

making charms for all known diseases, and sell them to the people at

large, are often able to enrich themselves far more rapidly than a

doctor who confines himself to the ordinary methods of treatment.

Once, when I was in camp, I came across a mountebank who was making

quite a large fortune in this way. He had travelled over a large

part of South-Western Asia, but did not stop long in any one place,

as no doubt his takings would soon begin to wear off after the first

days of novelty. One of his performances was to walk through fire,

professedly by the power of the Muhammadan Kalimah. A trench was

dug in the ground, and filled with charcoal and wood, which was set

alight. After the fire had somewhat died down, the still glowing

embers were beaten down with sticks, and then the faqir, reciting

the Kalimah with great zest, proceeded to deliberately walk across,

after which he invited the more daring among the faithful to follow

his example, assuring them that if they recited the creed in the

same way and with sincerity, they would suffer no harm. Some went

through the ordeal and showed no signs of having suffered from it;

others came out with blistered and sore feet. These unfortunates were

jeered at by the others as being no true Muhammadans, owing to which

they had forfeited the immunity conferred upon them by the recitation

of the creed. One young Sikh student, calling out the Sikh battle-cry,

ventured on the ordeal, and came out apparently none the worse. The

Muhammadans looked upon this as an insult to their religion, because

Muhammadans oftener than not heard that cry when the Sikhs had been

engaged in mortal combat with them, and this action of the young

Sikh appeared to them to be a challenge as to whether the Muhammadan

or the Sikh cry had the greater magic power. However, some of the

more responsible persons present checked the more hot-headed ones,

and the affair passed off with a little scoffing. Every morning and

afternoon the faqir prepared for the reception of the patients,

who were collected in great numbers on hearing of his fame. Each

applicant had to give 5 pice to the assistant as his fee. He was

then sent before the faqir, who remained seated on a mat. The faqir

asked him one or two questions as to the nature of the illness,

wrote out the necessary charm, and passed on to the next. Three or

four hundred people were often seen at one sitting. This would give

about 50 rupees (£3. 6s. 8d.) as a day's takings. Some days would,

no doubt, be occupied in travelling, and others less fruitful;

but his equipment and his method of travelling showed that it was

a very profitable business. He was stopping in the rest-house,

and invited me to dinner, which was served in English fashion. He

entertained me with stories of his travels, and made no secret of the

fact that he took advantage of the credulity of the people to run a

good business. When dinner was nearly over an assistant came in to

say that there were many people outside clamouring for charms. With

an apology to me for the interruption, he took a piece of paper,

tore it up into squares, quickly wrote off the required number, and

gave them to the assistant to go on with. In some cases, especially

those suffering from rheumatism or old injuries or sprains, he used

rubbings and manipulations, much as a so-called bone-setter does,

and these, no doubt, helped the charm to do its work.

The medical and surgical treatment of the faqirs is extremely

crude. Sometimes Jogis and herbalists from India travel about the

country and practise a certain amount of yunani, or Hippocratic

medicine; but the native doctors of Afghanistan have extremely little

knowledge of medicine. The two stock treatments of Afghanistan are

those known as dzan and dam. Dzan is a treatment habitually used in

cases of fever, whether acute or chronic, and in a variety of chronic

complaints, which they do not attempt to diagnose. It consists in

stripping the patient to the skin and placing him on a bed. A sheep or

a goat is then killed and rapidly skinned. The patient is then wrapped

up in the skin, with the raw surface next him and the wool outside. He

is then covered up with a number of quilts. When successful, this

treatment acts by producing a profuse perspiration, and when it

is removed--on the second day in the summer and the third day in

the winter--the patient is sometimes found to be free from fever,

though very worn and weak from the profuse sweating. If the first

application is not successful, it may be repeated several times. In

a case of severe injury to one of the limbs, the same treatment is

often applied locally. In the case of a fractured thigh, for instance,

the sheepskin is tied on, a rough splint applied externally, and

often left for a week or more. Where there has been an open wound,

and the patient has been brought several days' journey through the

heat down to our hospital in Bannu, you can usually anticipate the

character of the case by seeing the men who have carried the bed in

carefully winding their pagaris round their noses and mouths before

proceeding to unbandage it for your inspection, and when it is at

last opened all except the doctor and his assistant try to get as far

away as possible. A surgeon can scarcely be confronted with a more

complete antithesis to his modern ideas of aseptic surgery than a

case like this, and many and prolonged applications of antiseptics

and deodorants are required before the wound begins to assume a

healthy aspect, even if inflammation and gangrene have not rendered

amputation a necessity. In the case of a small wound, the whole or

a part of the skin of a fowl is used in the same way, the flesh of

the slaughtered animal being always a part of the fee of the doctor.

The other remedy, or that known as the dam, is akin to what is known

in Western surgery as a "moxa." A piece of cloth is rolled up in a

pledget of the size of a shilling, steeped in oil, placed on the

part selected by the doctor, and set alight. It burns down into

the flesh, and a hard slough is formed; this gradually separates,

and leaves an ulcer, which heals by degrees. This remedy is used

for every conceivable illness, a particular part of the body being

selected according to the disease or the diagnostic ability of the

doctor who applies the remedy. Thus, in people who have suffered from

indigestion you will often see a line of scars down each side of the

abdomen. For neuralgia, it is applied to the temples; for headache,

to the scalp; for rheumatism, to the shoulders; for lumbago, to the

loins; for paralysis, to the back; for sciatica, to the thighs; and so

on indefinitely. I have counted as many as fifty scars, each the size

of a shilling, on one patient as the result of repeated applications

of this remedy. The Afghans have extraordinary faith in both these

treatments, and I have sometimes sat in a village listening to an

argument in which some young fellow, lately returned from a visit

to a mission hospital, recounted the wonderful things he had seen

there, to which some old conservative greybeard retorted: "What do

we want with all these new-fangled things? The dzan and the dam are

sufficient for us." As formerly in the West, so still in Afghanistan,

the village barber performs the ordinary surgical operations, such

as opening an abscess or lancing a gum.

The women all claim a greater or less knowledge of such surgery and

medicine as they think necessary for them. After one of the village

frays, when the warriors come back to their homes more or less cut

and wounded, the women of the household at once set about their

treatment. If there is severe hæmorrhage some oil is quickly raised

to boiling-point in a saucepan, and either poured into the wound,

or if, for instance, a limb has been cut off, the bloody stump is

plunged into the oil. This, no doubt, acts as an effective, though

somewhat barbarous, hæmostatic. If the bleeding is only slight,

a certain plant gathered from the jungle is reduced to ashes, and

these ashes rubbed on the wound. In the case of a clean cut the

women draw out hairs from their own head, and sew it up with their

ordinary sewing-needles, and I have sometimes seen flesh wounds which

have been quite skilfully sewn up in this way. They are less skilful

in the application of splints. In most neighbourhoods there is some

village carpenter who prides himself on his skill in the application

of splints to broken bones; but in most cases he bandages them too

tightly, or with too little knowledge of the circulation of the limb,

so that not a year passes in which we do not get one or more cases

of limbs which have become gangrenous after quite simple fractures

through this kind of treatment.

Almost the only drugs which are used to any extent in Afghanistan

are purgatives, and especially those of a more violent and drastic

nature. Nearly every Afghan thinks it necessary to be purged or bled,

or both, every spring, and not unfrequently at the fall of the year

too. Scarcely any illness is allowed to go to a week's duration without

the trial of some violent purge. Sometimes the purge is given with so

little regard to its quantity and the vitality of the patient that it

results in rapid collapse and death. In other cases a latent dysentery

is excited, which may result in an illness lasting many months,

and leaving the patient permanently weakened thereby. The seasonal

blood-lettings are performed, as in the West, from the bend of the arm,

this position having, no doubt, come down to the practitioners of both

East and West from the ancient Greeks; but in the case of illness,

while the physicians of the West have had their practice revolutionized

by modern ideas of anatomy and physiology, those of the East still

follow the humoral and hypothetical pathologies of Hippocrates and

his predecessors. These practitioners know the particular vein in

the particular limb or part of the body which has to be selected for

venesection in any particular illness. I have known a young doctor from

England lose at once the confidence which the people might up to that

time have had in his medical knowledge, because in a case of illness

to which he was called he recommended venesection, and the patient's

medical attendant who was to carry out the treatment made the, to him,

very natural inquiry, "From what vein?" The English doctor said: "It

does not matter." Both patient and medical attendant not unnaturally

assumed that he was either a very careless doctor or an ignoramus,

and, in either case, that they had better call in a fresh opinion.

Cataract is a very common complaint in Afghanistan, and from time

immemorial there have been certain hakims, or native practitioners,

who operate on this by means of the old process of couching. These

men usually itinerate about the country from village to village, as

in most cases the old men and the old women who are suffering from

cataract are unable to undertake the journey to a town where one

of these practitioners lives; or it may be that their relations are

not willing to take the trouble for someone whose working days are

apparently over. In some cases no doubt the operation results in good

sight, but in the majority other changes which take place in the eye

as a result of the operation lead before long to total blindness. As,

however, the hakim seldom goes over the same ground again till after

the lapse of several years, his reputation does not lose by these

failures, as it would have done if he were always resident in one

place. The tooth extracting of the village is usually entrusted to the

village blacksmith, who has a ponderous pair of forceps, a foot and

a half to two feet long, hung up in his shop for the purpose. Where

the crown of the tooth is fairly strong and prominent the operation

generally results in a short struggle, and then the removal of the

aching tooth; but if the tooth is very carious, or not prominent enough

for a good grip, the results are often disastrous, even to fracture of

the jaw, and these ultimately come to the mission hospital for repair,

several often turning up in one day.

At one time smallpox was terribly rife in Afghanistan, and even now

no village can be visited without seeing many who are permanently

disfigured by it. When an Afghan comes to negotiate about the price of

an eligible girl for marrying to his son, one of the first questions

asked is, "Has she had the smallpox?" and if not, either the settlement

may be postponed until she is older, or else some deduction is made

for her possible disfigurement if attacked by the disease. Many times

fathers have brought their daughters to the hospital with the scars

left by smallpox in their eyes, begging me to remove them, not so much

for the sake of the patient as because the market value of the daughter

will be so much enhanced thereby. The custom of inoculation was at

one time almost universal in Afghanistan. A little of the crust of the

sore of a smallpox patient was taken and rubbed into an incision made

in the wrist of the person to be inoculated. The smallpox resulting,

though usually mild, was sometimes so severe as to cause the death

of the patient, and the people have not been slow to recognize the

great advantages which vaccination has over inoculation. Only two

circumstances deter the people from universally profiting by the

facilities offered by the British Government. The first reason is that

very often the vaccinators are underpaid officials, who use their

opportunities for taking bribes from the people, and make the whole

business odious to them. The other is, that they have a widespread

superstition that the Government are really seeking for a girl, who

is to be recognized by the fact that when the vaccinator scarifies

her arm, instead of blood, milk will flow from the wound; she is then

to be taken over to England for sacrifice, and the parents are afraid

lest their girl should be the unlucky one.

CHAPTER III

BORDER WARRIORS

Peiwar Kotal--The Kurram Valley--The Bannu Oasis--Independent

tribes--The Durand line--The indispensable Hindu--A lawsuit and its

sequel--A Hindu outwits a Muhammadan--The scope of the missionary.

I was standing on a pine-clad spur of the Sufed Koh Range, which

runs westwards towards Kabul, between the Khaiber Pass on the north

and the Kurram Pass on the south. The snow-clad peaks of Sika Ram,

which rise to a height of fifteen thousand feet, tipped by fleecy

white clouds, were just behind me, while in front was the green valley

of the Kurram River, spread out like a panorama before me, widening

out into a large plain in its upper part, where numerous villages,

partly hidden in groves of mulberry and walnuts, nestled among the

lower spurs of the mountains, while farther down the hills on either

side of it closed in and became more rugged and bare, and the river

wound its circuitous path through defile and gorge, till it debouched

on the plains of India. Immediately before me was the pine-covered

Pass of Peiwar, which will always be memorable as the scene of the

great battle fought between the forces of the Amir, Sher Ali, and

the advancing column of Sir Frederick Roberts. There were the pines

covering the crest where the Afghan batteries were ensconced, and one

could trace without difficulty the circuitous path up the stony bed

of the mountain torrent, through a deep ravine, and then winding up

among the pine-woods, by which the gallant regiments of the advancing

army stormed and finally captured the Afghan position. Westward of the

pass was a fertile valley, dotted over with villages here and there,

forming part of the territory of the Amir of Afghanistan. A few miles

below the top of the pass could be seen the fort where the soldiers

of the Amir guarded his frontier. Turning eastward, some dozen miles

off, could be seen the cantonments of Parachinar, the westernmost

cantonments of British occupation, and the seat of administration of

this trans-border valley. There was a fort garrisoned by the local

levies of the Kurram Militia--Afghans from the villages round, who,

under the training and influence of three or four British officers,

have become part of the "far-flung battle line" of the defences of

the Empire.

I had been spending some weeks among the people of this district,

and the time had come for reluctantly leaving the shady groves and

cool breezes of the Upper Kurram for the sweltering plains of Bannu,

which even now I could see in the eastern distance covered by heat

haze, recalling the punkahs and restless nights which were soon to

be my lot instead of the bracing air of the Sufed Koh. Our tents and

baggage had been loaded up on some mules, which we could see winding

along the white road below us, while we were lingering behind to take

a last leave of the hearty Afghans, who had been both our hosts and

our patients. Three times had we to pitch our nightly camp before we

crossed the border of British India and entered the border town of

Thal, which is the first town in British India which a traveller from

Afghanistan enters. From the time of crossing the Afghan frontier till

now, he has been going through what is known as an "administrative

area." Here was a fort, occupied by troops of the Indian Army, under

command of a British officer.

Thirty-four miles still remained in a direct line between us and

our destination in Bannu, and before accomplishing this special

arrangements had to be made with the tribes occupying it for our

escort; for this tongue of country running up between Thal and

Bannu was not British India, nor even an administrative area,

but independent, and owned by the marauding Wazir tribe, who owed

allegiance to neither Amir nor Viceroy. A couple of ruffianly-looking

Wazirs arrived to escort us down. Their rifles were slung over their

shoulders, and well-filled cartridge belts strapped round their waists;

a couple of Afghan daggers were ensconced in the folds of the dirty

red pagaris which they had bound round their bodies, and they carried

their curved Afghan swords in their hands. We had now left the fertile

valley of Upper Kurram behind us, and wandered through a succession of

rocky mountain defiles, over precipitous spurs, and along the stony

bed of the river for more than thirty miles. The lower mountain

ranges separating Afghanistan from India form by their intricacy

and precipitate nature a succession of veritable chevaux de frise,

which by their natural difficulties maintain the parda or privacy of

the wild tribes inhabiting them, who value the independence of their

mountain fastnesses more than life itself. Here and there is a patch of

arable land in a bend of the Kurram River, overlooked by the walled and

towered village of its possessors, who have won it by force of arms,

and only keep it by their armed vigils, even the men who are ploughing

behind their oxen having their rifles hung over their shoulders,

and keeping their eyes open for a possible enemy. In some places a

channel from the river has been carried with infinite labour on to a

flat piece of ground among the mountains, where a scanty harvest is

reaped. For the rest the hill seems to be almost devoid of animal or

vegetable life. A few partridges starting up with a shrill cry from a

tuft of dry grass in front of one are occasionally seen, and stunted

trees of ber and acacia supply a certain amount of firewood, which

some of the Wazirs gather and take down to the Friday Fair in Bannu.

The Afghans will tell you that when God created the world there were

a lot of stones and rocks and other lumber left over, which were

all dumped down on this frontier, and that this accounts for its

unattractive appearance. There is one more range of hills to surmount

before we reach the plains of India. We have toiled up a rocky path,

from the bare stones of which the rays of the summer sun are reflected

on all sides, without any relief from tree or shrub, or even a tuft of

green grass, till the ground beneath our feet seems to glow with as

fierce a heat as that of the blazing orb above us. We have reached

the summit, and the vista before us changes as if by magic. Five

hundred feet below us is the broad plain of India, irrigated in this

part by the vivifying waters of the Kurram River, which, liberated

from the rock-bound defile through which they have wandered for the

last thirty miles, now dashing over their stony bed, anon hemmed

in by dark overhanging cliffs, are at last free to break up into

numberless channels, which, guided by the skill of the agriculturist,

form a labyrinth of silver streaks in the plain below us. As far as

the life-giving irrigation cuts of the Kurram River extend are waving

fields of corn, sugar-cane, maize, rice, turmeric, and other crops,

spread in endless succession as far as the eye can reach.

Scattered among the fields are the teeming villages of the Bannuchies,

partly hidden in their groves of mulberries and figs and their

vineyards, as though Cornucopia, wearied by the barren hills above

them in Afghanistan, had showered down all her gifts on the favoured

tribes below. Such is India as it appears to the Pathans inhabiting the

hills on our North-West Frontier, and when we see it thus after some

time spent with them in their barren and rocky hills, we can readily

understand that two thoughts are dominant in their minds. The one is:

"Those rich plains have been put there, in contiguity to our mountains,

because God intended them to be our lawful prey, that when we have

no harvest we may go down and reap theirs; and when we are hard up,

and have a big fine to pay to the British Government, we may lighten

some of the wealthy Hindus of the money that they have accumulated

through usury and other ways which God hates." The other thought is:

"What possible reason has the British Government, the overlord of such

rich lands, for coming and interfering with us in our mountain homes,

which, though nothing but rocks and stones, are still our homes for all

that, where we resent the presence and interference of any stranger?"

The reader will have observed that in the journey above described,

from Peiwar down to Bannu, four different territories have been

passed through. The first and the last--viz., Afghanistan and British

India--are two well-defined, easily comprehensible geographical areas;

but it is seen that betwixt the two are various other tribal areas,

in varying relations with the Indian Government. A few words must

be said to familiarize the reader with the political conditions

obtaining there. The frontier of British India is well defined, but

that of Afghanistan was more or less uncertain until the year 1893,

when Sir Mortimer Durand was deputed by the British Government to

meet the officers delegated by the Amir Abdurrahman, in order that

the frontier might be delimited. This frontier is since known as the

"Durand Line." The intervening area between the Durand Line and the

British frontier is in varying relations to the Indian Government.

Some parts of this, such as Tirah (the country of the Afridis and

Orakzais) and Waziristan (the country of the Wazirs and Mahsuds), are

severely left alone, provided the tribes do not compel attention and

interference by the raids into British territory, which are frequently

perpetrated by their more lawless spirits.

These raids are no doubt disapproved of by the majority of the

tribesmen, who recognize the fact that they must stand to lose in

any conflict with the British Government; but such is the democratic

spirit of the people that every man considers himself as good as his

neighbour, and a step better if he has a more modern rifle. As in the

interregnums of the days of the Israelitish Judges, each man does what

seems good in his own eyes, and bitterly resents any effort of his

neighbour, and even of the tribe, to control his actions or curtail

his liberty. Thus it happens that it is really very difficult for the

tribal elders to prevent their bad characters from perpetrating these

raids. The raiders are usually men with nothing to lose, owning no

landed property within the confines of British India, and guilty of

previous murders or other crimes, which make it impossible for them

to enter the country, except surreptitiously, as they would certainly

be imprisoned, and perhaps hanged, if caught.

A great number in the tribe own lands on both sides of the border, and

find it to their interest to take no overt part against the Government;

while at the same time, unless they give asylum to the desperadoes,

and conceal them on occasion, they are liable to be themselves the

victims. Thus it happens that in nearly every frontier expedition

there are some sections of the tribe which desire to be on good terms

with the British, and are known as "friendlies." It is difficult

for a military commander who has not previously known the people

to appreciate this, and when he finds his camp being sniped from a

supposed "friendly" village, he not unnaturally doubts the sincerity

of the people. As likely as not, however, the recalcitrant sections of

the tribe have been at pains to snipe from such points as to implicate

the friendly sections and force them into joining the standard of

war. On one occasion the exasperated General refused to believe the

representations of the Political Officer that the villages from the

neighbourhood of which the sniping came were friendly until he left

the camp and went over to live in the (supposed) enemies' village

himself! The well-disposed clans would welcome an administration of

the country by which these lawless spirits could be kept in check.

Then, there are certain semi-independent States, such as Chitral and

Dir, where there are rulers of sufficient paramount power to govern

their own country and to render it possible for the British to maintain

that amount of control of their external relations which is considered

desirable, by means of a Political Agent attached to the court of the

chief, while still leaving the latter free to manage his own internal

affairs in accordance with the customs of his tribe and the degree

of his own supremacy over the often conflicting units composing it.

Thirdly, there are what are known as "administered areas," such as the

Upper Kurram Valley, above mentioned. These are inhabited by tribes

over whom no one chief has been able to gain paramount authority for

himself, where, as is so often the case among Afghans, the tribe is

eaten up by a number of rival factions, none of which are willing

to acknowledge the rule of a man from a faction not their own. The

Government official, therefore, is unable to treat with one ruler,

but has to hear all the members of the contending factions. So great

is the democratic spirit that any petty landowner thinks he has as

much right to push his views of public policy as the representative

of an hereditary line of chiefs. This naturally greatly complicates

official relations, and the Political Officer, however much he would

like to refrain from interference in tribal home policy, finds that,

amid a host of conflicting units, he is the only possible court

of appeal. This results in an intermediate form of government: the

Indian Penal Code does not obtain; tribal laws and customs are the

recognized judicial guides, and there is a minimum of interference

with the people; yet the Political Officer is the supreme authority,

and combines in himself the executive and judicial administration of

the area.

Notwithstanding the exclusiveness of the religion that these

people profess, they find it impossible to do their business or

live comfortably without the help of the ubiquitous and obsequious

Hindu. Just as much as the great Mughal Emperors of old found it

best to have Hindus for the posts of treasurer, accountant, adviser,

etc., so the frontier chief of to-day has his Hindu vassal always with

him, to keep his accounts, write his petitions, and transact most of

his written and judicial business. The majority of the shopkeepers

also are Hindus. Even under the settled administration of British

India the Muhammadan has never become such an adept at bargaining,

petty trade, and shopkeeping as the more thrifty and quick-witted

Hindu. Thus in every village of any pretension there are the Hindus,

with their shops, who make their journeys to the big market-towns

on the frontier--Peshawur, Bannu, and Dera Ismail Khan--and return

with piece-goods, matches, looking-glasses, and a variety of Western

trinkets, as well as the food-stuffs which the Afghan covets, but

cannot produce himself, such as white sugar and tea. These Hindus

are regarded as vassals by the Muhammadan community they supply,

and each Hindu trader or shopkeeper has his own particular overlord

or Muhammadan malik, who in return for these services guarantees his

safety, is ready to protect him--by force of arms, if necessary--from

rival Muhammadan sections, and to revenge any injury done to him as

if it were a personal one to himself.

The Hindu supplies the brains and the Muhammadan the valour. The

Hindu is ever ready to outwit his overbearing but often obtuse

masters, and under British rule avails himself of the protection

the law affords to do things he would not venture on across the

border. Once when travelling across the border my guide was an outlaw,

who had been obliged to fly from British territory after committing

a murder. He told me that he had gone into partnership with a Hindu

for an extensive contract for road-making: the Hindu was to supply

the capital and keep accounts, and he was to recruit the coolies and

do the supervision of the work. "While I," he said, "was broiling

and sweating in the summer sun, that pig of a Hindu was comfortably

seated in his office falsifying the accounts, and I never got an anna

for all my labours. I thought I should get justice from the Sarkar,

so I brought a civil action against him; but I was a plain man, and he

learnt all about the ways of the law from some pleader friend of his,

and I lost the case. Then I paid another pleader a big sum to take

my appeal to the Sessions Judge, but he had manipulated the accounts

and paid the witnesses, so that I lost that too. Allahu Akbar! The

Judge gave his verdict before the shadow had turned [before midday],

and before the time of afternoon prayers had arrived that son of a

pig was as dead as a post. But then I had to come over here, and I

can only pay an occasional night visit to my village now."

A story which he told me to illustrate the mercantile genius of the

Hindu will bear repeating. A Muhammadan and a Hindu resolved to go

into partnership. The Muhammadan, being the predominant partner,

stipulated that he was to have the first half of everything, and the

Hindu the remainder. The Hindu obsequiously consented. The first day

the Hindu brought back a cow from market. He milked it, got the butter

and cream, made the dung into fuel-cakes for his fire, and then went

to call the Muhammadan because the cow was hungry and wanted grass

and grain. The Muhammadan said he was ready to do his share if the

Hindu did his. The Hindu blandly replied that he had already done his,

while the stipulated "first half" of the cow included the animal's

mouth and stomach, and fell clearly to the lot of the Muhammadan.

Now let us see what is the position of the missionary in each of these

areas. In British India he has a free hand so long as he keeps within

the four corners of the law. In Afghanistan there is an absolute veto

against even his entry into the country, and there is no prospect of

this changing under the present régime. A convert from Muhammadanism

to Christianity is regarded within the realms of the Amir as having

committed a capital offence, and both law and popular opinion would

decree his destruction. In the intervening tribal areas there is no

reason why a cautious missionary, well acquainted with the language and

customs of the people, should not work with considerable success. A

medical missionary who did not attack their religion with a mistaken

zeal would undoubtedly be welcomed by the greater number of the people,

though the Mullahs, or priests, would be an uncertain element, and

certainly hostile at the beginning. The local political authorities

have the final say as to how far the missionaries may extend their

operations. I shall revert to this subject in the concluding chapter

(Chapter XXV.), where I shall show that in no part of the country are

medical missions more obviously indicated, not only for Christianizing

the people, but equally so for pacifying them and familiarizing them

with the more peaceful aspects of British rule.

CHAPTER IV

A FRONTIER VALLEY

Description of the Kurram Valley--Shiahs and Sunnis--Favourable

reception of Christianity--Independent areas--A candid

reply--Proverbial disunion of the Afghans--The two policies--Sir

Robert Sandeman--Lord Curzon creates the North-West Frontier

Province--Frontier wars--The vicious circle--Two flaws the

natives see in British rule: the usurer, delayed justice--Personal

influence.

Among the various tracts of border territory that have recently

been opened up and brought under the influence of civilization by

the frontier policy of the Indian Government, none is fairer or

more promising than the Upper Kurram Valley, on the lower waters of

which river Bannu, the headquarters of the Afghan Medical Mission, is

situate. The River Kurram rises on the western slopes of Sikaram, the

highest point of the Sufed Koh Range (15,600 feet), and for twenty-five

miles makes a détour to the south and east through the Aryab Valley,

which is inhabited by the tribe of Zazis, who are still under the

government of the Amir, and form his frontier in this part. The river

then suddenly emerges into a wider basin, the true valley of Upper

Kurram, stretching from the base of the Sufed Koh Range to the base

of a lower range on the right bank, a breadth of fifteen miles, the

river running close to the latter range, and the north-western corner

of this basin being separated from the head-waters of the Kurram by

the ridge of the Peiwar Kotal, where was fought the memorable action

of December 2, 1879, by which the road to Kabul was opened. This wide

valley runs down as far as Sadr, thirty miles lower down towards the

south-east, being narrower, however, below. Here the valley narrows

down to from two to four miles, and runs south-east for thirty-five

miles to Thal, where it ceases to be in British territory, but winds

for thirty miles among the Waziri Hills, until it emerges into the

Bannu Plain, and flows through the Bannu and Marwat districts into

the Indus at Isa Khel. Thus, with the exception of the head-waters and

some thirty miles just above Bannu, the territory is all now subject

to British rule, and is steadily becoming more peaceful and civilized.

Below the Zazis the valley down as far as Waziristan was originally

possessed by the Bangash, a Sunni tribe of Pathans, who came themselves

from the direction of Kohat. The Turis were a Shiah tribe inhabiting

some districts on the eastern bank of the Indus near Kalabagh,

who, being ardent traders and nomads, were accustomed to visit

the cool regions of Upper Kurram every summer for trade, health,

and pasturage. One summer, some two hundred years ago, a quarrel

arose between them and the Bangash of a village called Burkha, and

resulted in a battle, in which the Turis came off victorious, and,

destroying or driving away the inhabitants of Burkha, made it their

first settlement in the valley. Soon after this they attacked and

possessed themselves of two of the most important villages of the

valley, Peiwar and Milana, and to this day every Turi with aspirations

to importance claims land in one of these three villages, though it

may be only the fiftieth part of a field, as proof of his true lineage.

Year by year the Turis gradually strengthened their position, driving

the Bangash farther down the valley, except in some cases, such as

the inhabitants of the large and beautiful village of Shlozan, the

Bangash of which, all becoming Shiahs, amalgamated with the Turis,

and retained their lands.

Finally, having made their position secure, and realizing the charms

of the valley, the Turis ceased to return to the plain, and remained

in the valley all the year round. Hence to-day we find the upper part

of the valley inhabited only by Turis, while below this, as far as

the Alizai, the Turis and Bangash are mingled, their villages being

often side by side; and further down still the Bangash have the land

all to themselves.

Since the people have realized the peace resulting from English rule,

and have begun to beat their swords into ploughshares, many of the hill

tribes bordering the valley have taken every opportunity of settling

in allotments in the valley, and enjoying the larger produce of its

richer soil. These are the Mangals and Makbals above, and the Zaimukhts

below, thus introducing a fresh element into the population. Over and

above these any worker in the valley has to count on dealings with the

neighbouring tribes, who still cling to their mountain fastnesses,

and sometimes still show their old disposition to loot the more

peaceable inhabitants. These are the Ningrahars, Spinwars, and Paris

on the north, and the Zazi-i-Maidan on the south; while the Afghan

country of Khost being in close proximity, its people also would be

easily reached. To make the enumeration of the inhabitants complete,

it only remains to mention the Hindus, who, mostly of the Arora caste,

are in large numbers in the valley, and retain most of the trade,

and do much clerical and business work for the Muhammadans.

In the time of the Hindu Rajahs of Kabul they were probably in the

ascendant here, and the little archæology which the valley presents

is all of Hindu origin. Apart from the variety of tribes who are thus

brought into close proximity in the valley, it has a special interest

and importance from its being one of the two routes from Kabul to India

(the other being the Khaiber). Hence many nomads from Afghanistan

frequently visit and temporarily inhabit the valley. Prominent at

present among these are the Hazaras, numbers of whom have been driven

out from their own lands by the Amir, and have come here to labour

on the roads.

The Khorotis and Ghilzais also frequent the valley. It is owing to

this peculiarly central and cosmopolitan position, and partly to

the character of the people themselves, that this district presents

so many advantages as a centre of mission work and influence. There

is a great opportunity for mission work among the Turis. These, as

above mentioned, are Shiahs, while all the tribes round belong to

the orthodox sect of Sunnis; consequently, previously to the English

occupation in 1891 they were subjected to persistent, relentless

persecution at the hands of the Amir, and to frequent inroads

from their Sunni neighbours. They naturally, therefore, look on the

Christians as deliverers from the throes of Sunni rule and persecution,

and are ipso facto inclined to look on Christianity favourably, since

it has brought them so much peace and freedom from oppression. And

still, as a wordy warfare is carried on by their respective Mullahs,

both sides endeavour to find in Christianity points of resemblance

by which they can magnify their own sect, rather than, like the

Muhammadans of Bannu, to be constantly cavilling at every word from

a Christian tongue or a Christian book.

This has resulted in a wonderful (wonderful, at any rate, to a

missionary from bigoted Bannu) openness to conversation about the

Christian Scriptures, and readiness to receive Christian teaching. For

instance, in Bannu a well-inclined Mullah dare not read a Bible except

in secrecy, while in Kurram I have frequently seen Mullahs publicly

reading and commenting on the Holy Word to large groups of Khans and

other men.

Again, in Bannu mention of such doctrines as the Sonhood, the

Crucifixion, or the Sinlessness of Christ, or the Fatherhood of God,

is as often as not the signal for an uproar; while here the same

doctrines, even if not partially accepted, may yet be freely talked

about, with the certainty of nearly always getting a fair hearing.

The first summer during which I spent some time among these

people I nearly everywhere had a hospitable, not to say cordial,

reception. This, of course, was partly attributable to the

medical benefits they received, but it was markedly different

from the reception often accorded to the bearer of Gospel tidings

in Hindustan. At no place was there any open opposition from the

Mullahs, and most of them came to see me, and had long talks about

the Injil (Gospel), and asked for and gratefully accepted copies of

it, which I have reason to believe they preserved carefully and read

regularly; while the people often besought us to partake longer of

their hospitality or to visit them again next year, or, better still,

to start a dispensary in their midst.

A reference to the map shows how intimate are the relations of this

valley with Afghanistan, and relics of Afghan rule frequently present

themselves to the doctor when going about their villages--men who have

been crippled for life as a punishment for some crime, or it may be

merely because they incurred the displeasure of someone of influence,

who manufactured a case against them. I have seen men who have had

their right hand cut off for robbery, and others whose feet were

completely crippled by long-continued incarceration in the stocks,

or by a torture often inflicted to extract evidence, in which the

foot is tied with cords to a piece of wood like a magnified tent-peg

fixed in the ground. This peg has a cleft in it, and a wedge is then

hammered slowly into this cleft, thus gradually tightening the cords

till they cut into the foot and cause its mortification.

In every village there are one or more matamkhanas, where the Shiahs

hold their annual mournings for the martyrs of Kerbela (Hasan and

Huseïn) at every Muharram. Under Afghan (Sunni) rule these ceremonies

were often interdicted, or at least restricted; but now they are

able to carry them on unhindered, and pray for the continuance of

British rule in consequence. These places form convenient centres

for the men to gather together and talk, and in them many of my

religious discussions have been held. They are all the more ready

to accept the Christian account of the Crucifixion and its meaning

(which is such a stumbling-block to the Sunnis), because they look on

the martyrdom of the two brothers at Kerbela as having a vicarious

efficacy for those who perform the memorial rites, and regard 'Ali,

the fourth Khalifa from Muhammad, as being indeed a saviour.

If we could have visited this valley in the days long before

the Christian era, when the first Aryan immigrants were passing

down from Central Asia into the Panjab, we should have seen it

covered with their settlements, and seen them engaged in the simple

Nature-worship depicted in the Vedas, which record this stage of

Aryan civilization. This region was probably much better watered and

more fertile in those days than it is now. Not only does geological

evidence point to a greater rainfall and vegetation, but as these

early immigrations were mostly of large bands of pastoral people,

moving with their flocks and herds, their families and household

possessions, and as they probably only gradually moved down the valley

into the plains below, they must have found more pasturage than the

desolate frontier ranges would now afford.

The Kurram Valley above described serves as a good example of an

administered area fairly well advanced in the civilizing effects of

a settled and just Government.

The independent tribes, on the other hand, go down the scale till

you find tribes, such as some sections of the Wazirs and Afridis,

who are utter barbarians, entirely devoted to a nomadic life of

systematic highway robbery.

A Political Officer was once seated, with a number of the head men of

some of these independent tribes, on the top of one of their rugged

mountains, from which you look down on Afghanistan to the west and

India to the east. They had been touring with him as his escort for

some days. He had fed them well, and could chat familiarly with them

in their own lingo, so that they had learnt to talk with him without

reserve about even their tribal secrets.

"Now, tell me," said the officer, "if there were to be war--which

God forbid--between Russia and England, what part would you and your

people take? whom would you side with?"

"Do you wish us to tell you what would please you, or to tell you

the real truth?" was their naïve reply.

"I adjure you only tell me what is the 'white word'" (meaning the

true statement).

"Then," said an old greybeard among them, voicing the feelings of all

present, "we would just sit here up on our mountain-tops watching you

both fight, until we saw one or other of you utterly defeated; then

we would come down and loot the vanquished till the last mule! God

is great! What a time that would be for us!"

No doubt he spake truly, but such is the discord of the Afghan tribes

that no doubt the spoil would scarcely be gathered in before they

would begin to fight among themselves over the division of it. These

tribal jealousies and petty wars are inherent among the Afghans,

and greatly diminish their formidableness as foes. If you ask them

about it they will acknowledge this defect in their character, and

tell you how that one of their ancestors displeased the Almighty,

who, to punish him, wove the strands of discord in the web of their

nature from that time onwards. Hence the saying, "The Afghans of the

frontier are never at peace except when they are at war!" For when some

enemy from without threatens their independence, then, for the time

being, are their feuds and jealousies thrown aside, and they fight

shoulder to shoulder, to resume them again when the common danger is

averted. Even when they are all desirous of joining in some jihad,

they remain suspicious of each other, and are apt to fail one another

at critical moments; or else one tribe will wait to see how it fares

with those already in it before unsheathing their own swords. Thus it

was in the frontier rising of 1897 that the difficulty of quelling

the rising would have been immensely greater had it not been that

the tribes rose seriatim instead of simultaneously, and the rising

in one part of the frontier had been put down before another broke out.

Two policies have at various times been advocated with equal warmth by

their respective partisans. The earlier policy, which was supported by

Lord Lawrence in the days of his Viceroyalty, was generally known as

the "policy of masterly inactivity." Later on the "forward policy"

received more general approbation, its chief exponent being Sir

Robert Sandeman. Those who advocate the former point out the great

expenditure involved in all interference with the internal tribes

across our border, and that almost inevitably we become sooner

or later involved in wars with them. They would therefore have the

British Government strictly abstain from all trans-frontier politics,

and leave the tribes severely alone, so long as they give no trouble

to us on our side of the border. The "forward" party, on the other

hand, point out the danger of having this extensive area on the

most vulnerable part of our Indian Empire outside our own control,

and they advocate a system of controlling all the political affairs

of the trans-border tribes, while leaving their internal policy in

the hands of their own chiefs, who, though guided by our political

officers, would be free to maintain the ancient tribal customs.

Sir Robert Sandeman is, perhaps, the most remarkable instance of

the power which a single officer has been able to exercise over

these border tribes, and it was through him that the large tract

on the border between Quetta and the Deras was organized under our

Political Officers, working through the tribal chiefs. Allowances are

made to the tribes, in return for which they guarantee the safety of

the British posts on the highroads, and become responsible for any

misdemeanours on the part of other members of their tribe. Tribal

levies are organized under young officers of the British Army, who

train them in military discipline, drill, and marksmanship. The pay

received by these soldiers becomes a valuable asset to the tribe,

and a strong inducement to give up their more predatory habits, in

favour of the pax Britannica. Still, it was found necessary to place

regular troops of the Indian Army in some of the more important and

critical situations. The frontier is, for the most part, composed of

intricate, and in many parts inaccessible, mountain ranges, which form

an absolute barrier to the passage of troops; but piercing through

these are the passes, of which the best known are the Khaiber and the

Bolan, which from time immemorial have formed the highways through

which hostile armies have invaded India, and it would be through them

that any enemy of the future would endeavour to bring its forces. It

is therefore a paramount necessity to the British Government that

these passes should be securely guarded, and therefore each one of

them forms part of one of the areas administered by British officers,

and guarded either by native troops or tribal levies.

It is through these passes, too, that the great merchant caravans pass

down from Afghanistan and Central Asia into British India. In former

times the merchants had to subsidize the tribes through which they

passed, who would otherwise have blocked the passes and stolen their

goods; and it is partly to make up to the tribes for the loss of this

income that the tribal subsidies were arranged. Near where each of

these passes debouches on to the trans-Indus plain is a city, which

forms an emporium for the merchandise brought down, and a military

station for the protection of the pass. While Peshawur serves this

purpose for the Khaiber, Kohat commands the Kurram, Bannu the Tochi,

and Dera Ismail Khan the Gumal.

When Lord Curzon assumed the Viceroyalty, the frontier districts

formed part of the Panjab, and the Lieutenant-Governor of that

province was in administrative control of them. Lord Curzon wished

to bring them more directly under his own control, so in 1901 a new

province, composed of five frontier districts of the Panjab, was

constituted, and called the North-West Frontier Province. The five

districts composing this province are Hazara, Peshawur, Kohat, Bannu,

and Dera Ismail Khan. These are all beyond the Indus, except Hazara,

which is to the east of that river.

A Chief Commissioner was appointed over the whole province, directly

responsible to the Viceroy, and he had his headquarters and the centre

of government at Peshawur.

Lord Curzon's next move was to advance the railway systems of the

Panjab along the frontier, bringing their termini to the mouths of

the Khaiber and Kurram Passes. As this enabled a rapid concentration

of troops at any point along the frontier, he was able to withdraw

the regiments of the Indian Army which garrisoned the more outlying

districts, and to replace them by tribal levies.

No doubt it is the desire of the Government not to make any further

annexations of this barren, mountainous, and uninviting border

region; but it is not always equally easy to avoid doing so, and it

is a universal experience of history that when there are a number of

disorganized and ill-governed units on the borders of a great power,

they become inevitably, though it may be gradually and piece by piece,

absorbed into the latter. There are, however, financial considerations

which induce the Government to refrain from annexing a country which

has few natural resources, can pay little in taxes, and must cost a

great deal to administer.

But these frontier tribes form some of the finest fighting material

from which the Indian Army is recruited, and it may be that years

of regular and peaceful administration will destroy the military

qualities of these people, as has been the case in South India. The

many opportunities afforded by the frontier to the Indian Army for

active service, and the training that they get in the little frontier

expeditions, may also be looked upon by some as a valuable asset.

The usual sequence of events is as follows: First, the more

unruly sections of the tribes carry on a series of raids on the

frontier villages of India, as has been their custom from time

immemorial. Sometimes the miscreants are captured and meet their fate;

more often they escape, and, in accordance with the system of tribal

responsibility, a fine is put on the tribe from which they come. These

fines go on accumulating, the tribe running up an account with the

Government for its misdeeds.

Thus we come to the second stage, when the patience of the Government

is exhausted. The tribal heads are called in, and an ultimatum offered

to them. They must pay so much in fines and deliver the criminals

demanded, or an expedition will be organized. Much time--it may be

many months--is occupied in councils, while the tribe is endeavouring

to gain time or to make the terms more favourable.

The third stage is when the tribe fail to meet the Government's

conditions, and a punitive expedition is organized against them. This

expedition enters their hills, raises their parda, burns their

villages, fights a few actions--usually of the nature of ambuscades

or rearguard actions--realizes more or less of the fine, confiscates

a number of rifles, and comes back again.

The tribe is now free to commence its depredations afresh with a

clean sheet, and to begin to run up a new account, and, in order more

effectually to prevent this and keep a greater control over them,

the Government find themselves compelled to enter on the fourth stage,

which is that of annexing some points of vantage where military posts

can be erected, which will overawe and control them.

It is thus that a gradual, though it may be reluctant, annexation of

territory becomes inevitable.

Then, it must be remembered that there is always a section of the

tribe, and often a majority, who are favourable to annexation, for the

more settled and peaceful rule of the British brings many advantages

in its train. While before they were not able to cultivate their crops

at any distance from the village, and even then only when fully armed,

now they are able to till the ground in peace even miles away from

their habitations, and land which was before unculturable becomes

of great value. They are able to trade and carry on the ordinary

avocations of life with a security to which they have been hitherto

strangers. They learn the value of money, and begin to amass wealth.

There are always, however, two parties in the tribe who are opposed

tooth and nail to British rule, and as they have got power far

in excess of their more peacefully disposed brethren, they are

usually able to terrorize the more peace-loving majority into a

false acquiescence in their own opposition. These two parties are

the outlaws and the Mullahs.

The outlaws have made their living by raiding and robbery for

generations, and have no inclination to give up their profession for

more peaceable but less exciting and less profitable employment.

Not only have the Mullahs an antipathy to those whom they consider

kafirs, or infidels, but they know that under the changed conditions of

life, their influence, their power, and their wealth must all suffer.

Besides this, there are two elements in our rule which are

equally repugnant to all. One is the protection which we give to

the money-lender, and the other is the dilatory nature of our

justice. Usury is unlawful to the Muhammadans, but as they are

spendthrift and improvident, the Hindus are able to make a living

among them by lending them money in times of necessity. The Hindu

was formerly prevented from charging too high a rate of interest

or running up too long an account, by the fact that if he did so,

his Muhammadan masters, who held the sword, would come one night and

burn his house over his head, and let him start afresh. Under British

régime, however, the usurer is protected. He is able to recover his

debts from the impecunious Muhammadan by a civil action, and may

get the latter thrown into prison if he does not pay; while if the

Muhammadan tries to burn his account-books, he will find himself an

inmate of His Majesty's gaol.

The justice which the Muhammadan of the frontier appreciates is a rapid

and appropriate justice, such as used to be meted out by officers in

the days of Nicholson, when the offender might find himself accused,

arrested, judged, and visited with some punishment appropriate to

the crime all within the course of a few days. At the present time he

can, if rich enough, call in a pleader, and get any number of false

witnesses, and his case is inevitably dragged out by the magistrate

by successive postponements for getting the attendance of these

witnesses, or through some technicality of the law; and even when

he does--it may be after the lapse of some months--get a judgment,

the losing party in the suit is at liberty to bring an appeal to the

Sessions Judge, and from him another appeal can be lodged at the High

Court of Lahore, which has so many cases on its lists that it may be

his case will not be taken till after the lapse of two or three years.

The real strength of our administration on the frontier is the

personnel of our officers, for it has always been the man, and not

the system, that governs the country; and there are names of officers

now dead and gone which are still a living power along that frontier,

because they were men who thoroughly knew the people with whom they

had to deal, and whose dauntless and strong characters moulded the

tribes to their will, and exerted such a mesmeric influence over

those wild Afghans that they were ready to follow their feringi

masters through fire and sword with the most unswerving loyalty,

even though they were of an alien faith.

As an example of this, it is related that on a certain frontier

expedition the regiments were passing up a defile on a height, above

which some of the enemy had ensconced themselves in ambush behind

their sangars. The Afghans had been soldiers in the Indian Army,

who had now completed their service and retired to their hills, and

were, as is often the case, using the skill which they had learnt

in their regiments against us. They were about to fire, when one

of them recognized the officer riding at the head of the regiment

as his own Colonel. He stopped the others, and said: "That is our

own Karnal Sahib. We must not fire on him or his regiment." That

regiment was allowed to pass in safety, but they opened fire on the

one which succeeded.

CHAPTER V

THE CHRISTIAN'S REVENGE

Police posts versus dispensaries--The poisoning scare--A

native doctor's influence--Wazir marauders spare the mission

hospital--A terrible revenge--The Conolly bed--A political

mission--A treacherous King--Imprisonment in Bukhara--The

Prayer-Book--Martyrdom--The sequel--Influence of the mission

hospital--The medical missionary's passport.

I was once urging on a certain official the need of a Government

dispensary in a certain frontier district. "There is no need there,"

he replied; "the people are quiet and law-abiding. Now A---, that is a

disturbed area: there we ought to have medical work"--an unintentional

testimony to one result of the doctor's work, though rather hard on

the law-abiding section of the populace that they should have no

hope of a hospital unless they can organize a few raids, or get a

reputation for truculence.

Which will be better--a punitive police post or a civil

dispensary? This seems a not very logical conundrum, yet it is based

on sound reasoning, and a well-managed establishment of the latter

kind will often remove the necessity of setting up the former. The

doctor is a confidant in more matters than one, and the right man

will often smooth down little frictions and mollify sorenesses which

bid fair to cause widespread conflagrations.

A medical mission is a pacific, as well as an essentially pioneer,

agency.

There was a little missionary dispensary on the frontier, in charge

of a native doctor, a convert from Muhammadanism, who had gone in

and out among the people till he was a household friend all down

the country-side.

One day he was sitting in his dispensary seeing out-patients, when

he heard the following conversation:

Abdultalib. "The Sarkar has sent out agents to kill the Mussulmans

by poisoning their drinking-water."

Balyamin. "Mauzbillah! how do you know that?"

A. "Mullah D. arrived last night, and, sitting in the chauk, he told

how he had seen a man throwing pills into the well at Dabb village. He

went after him, but as soon as the man saw him he ran away."

B. "What is to be done?"

A. "First we must tell the women not to draw water from the wells--they

have certainly been poisoned in the night--but they can take their

pitchers to the tank in the big mosque; no one would interfere

with that."

B. "If we can catch the miscreant, we will show him plainly enough

who is the Mussulman and who the infidel."

As the news spread through the village, the excitement grew; women who

had already filled their pitchers from the wells hurriedly emptied

them and started off afresh to the mosque tank. Guards were placed

at the well, both to warn the faithful and to give short shrift to

any hapless stranger on whom suspicion might fall. The men about the

bazaar had procured thick sticks, and seemed only waiting for the

opportunity of using them, and things looked black all round. News was

brought to the police-station, and, without waiting to don his uniform,

the inspector buckled on a revolver, and, taking a constable with him,

hurried off to the most disturbed portion of the village.

The men there were sullen, and would give no information, and

two or three of the more truculent seemed inclined to hustle the

police-officer. Just then the native doctor appeared on the scene,

and recognized the gravity of the situation at once. One rash act,

and the police might have to use their firearms in self-defence. The

people, however, trusted the doctor. Had he not often championed them

when subjected to little police tyrannies, and had they not often

sought counsel from him in their village quarrels, and always found

his advice had helped them to come to an amicable settlement? So now,

when he quietly slipped his arm into that of the inspector, and led

him out of the dangerous quarter, chatting the while, till he got

him safely into a house without loss of official dignity, not even

the most truculent tried to resist his passage. Then he returned and

reasoned with them on the groundlessness of their suspicions. Had any

of them ever seen anyone throw anything into the wells? Had anyone

even got a stomach-ache from drinking the water? Did any King ever

want to kill off all his own subjects? If so, whom would he rule,

and where would be his kingdom? Finally, he bantered them out of

their warlike intentions: the sticks were returned home, business

resumed, the inspector came back as though his authority had never

been questioned, and a very ugly situation was successfully negotiated.

In the year 1879 the tribe of the Wazirs had been incited by their

Mullahs to rise, and they came down suddenly with their lashkar on

the little frontier town of Tank. There was a mission hospital there,

in charge of an Indian doctor, the Rev. John Williams. Before the

authorities could summon the troops the Wazir warriors had overrun

town and bazaar, and were burning and looting. Some young bloods went

for the mission hospital, but they were at once restrained by the

tribal elders, who forbade them to meddle with the property of "our

own Daktar Sahib," as they called him. Had they not often been inmates

of his hospital and partakers of his hospitality? Not a hair of his

head was to be injured. They at once set a guard of their own men on

the mission hospital, who warned off any excited tribesmen who might

have done it injury, and that was the only place in the bazaar that

escaped fire and sword and pillage. Some of his surgical instruments

had been carried off before the posting of the guard; but upon this

being made known, search was made through Waziristan, and the friends

of the doctor were not satisfied until all were returned to him.

Revenge is a word sweet to the Afghan ear, and even a revenge satisfied

by the culminating murder is the sweeter if the fatal blow, preferably

on some dark night, is so managed that the murdered man has a few

minutes of life in which to realize that he has been outwitted,

and to hear the words of exultation with which his enemy gluts his

hatred. In one case that came to my knowledge, after strangling his

victim, but before he was quite gone, the murderer dealt his victim a

terrific blow on his jaw, shattering the bone, with the taunt: "Do you

remember the day when I told you I would knock out your teeth for you?"

In the autumn of 1907 a fine stalwart Wazir was brought to the Bannu

Mission Hospital in a pitiable state: both of his eyes had been slashed

about and utterly blinded with a knife. His story was that his enemies

came on him unexpectedly in his cottage one day, beat his wife into

insensibility, tied him to a bed, and then deliberately destroyed his

eyes with a knife. His wife came to hospital with him, suffering from

severe contusions and some broken ribs, and we put them both into one

of our small "family wards"--so called because father, mother, and

children, if there be any, can all stop together for treatment. It was

painful to have to tell him that he would never see again, and still

more painful to hear him as he piteously said: "Oh, Sahib, if you can

give me some sight only just long enough to go and shoot my enemy,

then I shall be satisfied to be blind all the rest of my life." It

could not be. His lot would probably become that of the numerous

blind beggars that throng Eastern bazaars; for who would plough his

land now or speak for him in the village council? Yet of pure pity we

kept him a few weeks, that he might hear the story of the Gospel of

goodwill and forgiveness; but he would shake his head and sigh. "No,

that teaching is not for us. What I want is revenge--revenge!" Then,

because a concrete case will sometimes accomplish what a mere statement

cannot effect, I told him the story of the Conolly bed. Over each bed

is a little framed card denoting the benefactor or supporter of that

bed and the person commemorated thereby, and over this particular

bed is written:

Conolly Bed.

In Memory of Captain Conolly, beheaded at Bukhara.

As long ago as 1841 this brave English officer was sent on a

political mission to Bukhara, which was then an independent State,

and not under the rule of Russia, as now. The Muhammadan ruler,

Bahadur Khan, affected to be suspicious of his intentions, and threw

him into prison, where another English officer, Colonel Stoddart,

had already been incarcerated. It was in vain for them to protest

and to claim the consideration due to a representative of the British

Government; they were met by the answer that no letter had come from

the Queen in reply to one sent by the Amir, and that therefore they

had certainly come to stir up Khiva and Khokand to war against the

Amir of Bukhara. Their effects were confiscated; even their very

clothes were taken from them, till they only had their shirts and

drawers left, when a filthy sheepskin was given to Captain Conolly

as some protection against the winter cold of Bukhara. Their servants

were thrown into a horrible dungeon called the Black Well, into which

each man had to be lowered by a rope from the aperture at the top,

and was then left to rot in the filth below.

Captain Conolly managed to secrete a small English Prayer-Book about

his person, and this was a daily source of comfort to him and his

companion in prison, and he marked verses in the Psalms and passages in

the prayers from which they derived comfort. On the fly-leaves and the

margins he wrote a diary of their sufferings; month succeeded month,

and their hearts grew sick with hope deferred, and their bodies worn

with fever, wasting and wounds. On February 10, 1842, he writes:

"We have now been fifty-three days and nights without means of

changing or washing our linen. This book will probably not leave me,

so I now will, as opportunity serves, write in it the last blessing of

my best affection to all my friends." Again, on March 11, he writes:

"At first we had viewed the Amir's conduct as perhaps dictated by mad

caprice, but now, looking back upon the whole, we saw indeed that it

had been the deliberate malice of a demon, questioning and raising

our hopes and ascertaining our condition, only to see how our hearts

were going on in the process of breaking.

"I did not think to shed one more tear among such cold-blooded men,

but yesterday evening, as I looked upon Stoddart's half-naked and

much lacerated body, conceiving that I was the especial object of

the King's hatred, because of my having come to him after visiting

Khiva and Khok, and told him that the British Government was too

great to stir up secret enmity against any of its enemies, I wept on,

entreating one of our keepers to have conveyed to the chief my humble

request that he would direct his anger upon me, and not further destroy

by it my poor broken Stoddart, who had suffered so much and so meekly

here for three years. My earnest words were answered by a 'Don't cry

and distress yourself.' He, alas! would do nothing, so we turned and

kissed each other and prayed together, and we have risen again from our

knees with hearts comforted, as if an angel had spoken to us, resolved,

please God, to wear our English honesty and dignity to the last, within

all the misery and filth that this monster may try to degrade us with."

Again, on March 28: "We have been ninety-nine days and nights without

a change of clothes."

One of the native agents of the mission, Salih Muhammad by name,

subsequently escaped to India, and thus relates the closing scene of

the tragedy.