PERSIAN BABIES
A Persian baby--what a funny little mortal! It looks for all the world
like a little mummy, rolled up in handkerchiefs and shawls till only
its little face peeps out, and tied up with a long strip of braid
exactly like a parcel tied up with string. Hasn’t it got any arms and
legs? Oh, yes, safely put away inside all those wrappings and put away
carefully too--straightened out and rolled up so thoroughly that it
will stand up stiff and straight against the wall though it is only a
week old.
How surprised and shocked the Persian mothers are to see the English
babies kicking and throwing their arms about. “O Khanum, aren’t you
afraid its limbs will grow crooked? Why don’t you bind them straight?
Aren’t you afraid its legs will get broken if you leave them loose like
that?”
So at its very start on life’s journey the poor little Persian baby is
checked and prevented from growing up properly; for how can its little
legs grow strong without kicking? It is no wonder that Persian babies
as a rule learn to walk much later than English babies.
But perhaps the Persians are not quite so foolish as they seem when
they roll their babies up in these stiff little bundles. Very likely
the little arms and legs _would_ be broken or bent if they were left
loose, for many of the Persian mothers are very young--much too young
to know how to look after babies. They often treat them like dolls and
would very likely break them just as English girls break their dolls.
Even the grown-up mothers are often very careless. One woman I knew
laid her baby, not quite a year old, on a chair, and left it there. Of
course it fell off--it was sure to; and yet she did this over and over
again, and a few days later dropped it into a stream of water. She was
very much surprised that it began to have fits at this time, and she
said she could think of nothing to account for them.
A new missionary, who did not know the ways of Persians, went one day
to see another woman and found her in bed, that is, lying on a mattress
on the floor under a large quilt. Her friends invited the missionary to
sit on the quilt beside her, for they do not use chairs in most Persian
houses. After she had sat for some time she enquired for the baby. They
pointed to a little lump in the quilt, and there, close beside her,
entirely covered up and invisible, was the baby, and it gave the poor
missionary a terrible shock to see how near she had been to sitting
down upon it. After that, she always asked to see the baby before she
sat down.
A baby less than a week old was brought one day to the Julfa hospital
with its face badly torn by a cat. A few days later the doctor went
into the ward and found the mother smoking and gossiping with the other
women, but the baby was nowhere to be seen. “Where is the baby?” “It
is all right,” said the mother; “I put it _under the bed_.” And sure
enough, a little way off, under a bed (this time an English bed) lay
the poor little bundle, its arms bound to its sides, only its little
face exposed, or rather half-exposed, for the torn half was covered
with a dressing, while close at hand there prowled in search of food a
large half-wild cat, which frequented the hospital and had slipped in
at an open door.[A]
When they get a little older the babies are laid in broad comfortable
leather hammocks slung between rings let into the walls of the room.
Most Persian rooms have these rings in the walls. These hammocks save
the Persian mothers a great deal of trouble, for a single push will set
the hammock swinging for a long time and keep the baby quiet or send it
to sleep.
No baby may be left alone in a room till it is forty days old.
From the very first the baby is given _kaif_ every-day, that is,
something to make it sleep; this _kaif_ is almost invariably opium.
After the first week most babies are also given tea every day, without
milk but with a great deal of sugar in it, or better still sugar-candy.
This is considered specially good for babies, but it takes a long time
to dissolve. Both opium and tea are very bad for the baby’s digestion,
so we are not surprised to find that nearly all Persians suffer from
indigestion.
[Illustration: A BABY IN HAMMOCK]
There is one Persian custom connected with babies that boys and girls
of other lands would probably like to introduce into their own
country. The newly-arrived baby is weighed and its weight in sweets is
handed round to the people in the house, and it is supposed to bring
bad luck to the baby if anyone refuses its sweets. Plenty of people
always drop in when they hear that a new baby has arrived.
Another Persian rule for babies would not please your mothers at all.
After the first bath no baby must be washed all over till it is a
year old. One Persian lady, who was better educated than most, and
had been reading about European ideas on health and cleanliness, told
the missionaries that she was bringing up her little boy just like a
European baby. She said she gave him a bath every day and generally let
him kick instead of tying his legs up to make them straight. She was
delighted and triumphant when, instead of getting crooked, his legs
grew so strong that he walked at about half the usual age. But when
he was nearly a year old his body became covered with sores and the
missionary doctor told the mother to wash them not with ordinary water
in the bath, but with a lotion. “I should never think of washing them
in the bath,” she said. “His body must not be washed till he is a year
old.” “But I thought,” said the doctor, “that you gave him a bath every
day.” “Oh dear no,” she replied; “I don’t wash his _body_. It is his
_legs_ that I wash every day.”
When a Persian baby learns to talk it begins just like any other baby,
so that the Persians declared with great glee that the English babies
were talking Persian when they said “Baba” and “Dada.” But instead of
“Daddy” and “Mummy” Persian babies call their father and mother _Bābā_
and _Nana_.
When the baby is shown to anyone the mother generally remarks that it
is an ugly little thing, and similarly the visitors are expected to
say how ugly and dark it is, though there is no need to say it with
any great conviction. It is possible to say “How ugly you are” just
as affectionately as “You little darling.” But such uncomplimentary
remarks are used to avert bad luck and to guard against any suspicion
of the evil eye. If the visitor makes any complimentary remark she must
add “_Māshā’ allāh_” (_i.e._“May God avert it”), or the parents will be
seriously alarmed, and Baby’s admirer may be held responsible for any
calamity which befalls him for weeks afterwards.
Bibi Fati was the mother of four dear little children, Rubabeh, Hasan,
Riza, and Sakineh, and very dearly she loved them. One day they were
all gathered together for dinner when in walked a poor old beggar woman
in search of a meal. She was very anxious to please the mother, and
looking round at the children said: “What a nice little family you
have; you are like a hen surrounded by her chickens.”
Poor Bibi Fati did not feel at all comfortable at such a complimentary
speech and quickly gave the old woman some food and sent her about her
business.
For a day or two all went well. Then one after another Rubabeh,
Hasan, Riza, and even little Sakineh sickened and died, probably of
some infectious disease, and the poor mother was left childless and
heartbroken. Nothing would convince her and her neighbours that the
old beggar woman had not caused the catastrophe by her admiration.
Baby girls do not get such a good welcome as baby boys. When little
Ferangīz Khānum was born, her father was staying at a garden a few
miles away, and no one troubled to send him word. “I would have sent a
message if it had been a boy,” said the mother, “but it is not worth
while for a girl. It will do when he comes home next week.”
Persian fathers and mothers are often very fond of their little girls,
but there is no doubt that they very much prefer boys. The father and
mother, but especially the mother, are often known by the name of their
son, so much so that sometimes the neighbours know them by no other
name than “the father of Hasan,” the “mother of ‘Ali.”
Perhaps one reason for preferring boys is that the girls marry so
young, just as they might begin to be of some use to their mothers; and
the father has to pay a sum of money to his daughter’s husband on her
marriage. A son, on the other hand, does not generally marry till he is
grown up, and then he almost invariably brings his little wife home and
continues to live with his parents.
A greater reason is that the Persians are Muhammadans, as you have
already heard, and in a Muhammadan country the men are allowed to treat
the girls and women very badly, and parents who care at all for their
girls must always feel great anxiety as to their future.
We shall never get the Persians to treat their girls and women much
better till we teach them the religion of our loving Saviour, Who cares
for us all equally and wants us to be equally kind to one another.