distressed points needing help eastward, and then north to Harpoot; and
because of your telegram of the report of typhus and dysentery at Marash
and Zeitoun, we started in that direction, with Rev. L.O. Lee, who was
returning home. After facing rain, snow and mud for three days we came
to Marash. Here we remained until our caravan of goods came on. Typhus,
dysentery and smallpox were spreading as a result of the crowded state
of the city; Marash had been filled with refugees since the November
massacres, notwithstanding a large part of its own dwelling houses had
been burned and plundered. The surrounding country had also been
pillaged, people killed and villages destroyed, and the frightened
remnant of people had crowded in here for protection, and up to this
time had feared to return. With insufficient drainage and warm weather
coming on, typhus, dysentery and smallpox already in the prisons, an
epidemic was becoming general. True, the preachers _requested mothers
not to bring children with smallpox_ to church, nevertheless the typhus
and smallpox spread, and rendered medical supervision a necessity. By
the efforts of Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Macallum, wives of the missionaries of
the Marash station, a hospital had been established with plenty of
patients, but they had no funds for physicians or medicines. Medicines
were left and funds furnished for a native doctor educated in America
(who himself had just recovered from typhus) and was placed in charge of
the hospital and out-of-door service, and was doing efficient work
before we left Marash. Arrangements were made with Rev. Mr. Macallum to
have tools and implements made and distributed to artisans and
villagers; and we left with him to begin this work the sum which you had
sent for our own use 500 lire--$23,000.
By this time Dr. Ira Harris, whom you had called from Tripoli, Syria,
with his assistants, arrived for the Zeitoun field. Dr. Harris had his
well-filled medical chests and surgical supplies in a mule caravan, and
being more needed at other places, we left immediately for Adioman via
Besnia, passing through Bazarjik and Kumaklejercle, a three days'
mountain journey. Our officer kindly told us, when we stopped at a
Kourdish village for the night, to "order what we want and not pay if we
do not want to." But we made it clear to him, that while we are not
extravagant in our wants, _we_ always pay for what we take. It is
customary in this country for villages to entertain soldiers free of
charge. At Bazarjik when we inquired concerning the health of the place,
an official said they had no sickness _except a few cases of smallpox,
and this was confined to children_--that his little girl had it, and she
was brought in as a proof.
Besnia was saved from pillage and massacre by the efforts of Pasha
Youcab, Osman Zade, Mahund Bey, and several other Turkish Beys, but the
surrounding villages were attacked and suffered more or less severely.
Some of the women escaped and found protection in Besnia, where they
were still living. We did some medical work here and left, in good
hands, a moderate sum for emergencies. Our reception by the officials at
Besnia, as indeed at every place we have been, large or small, was most
cordial and friendly. With only an exception or two, no more considerate
treatment could have been expected or asked from any people. Before
reaching the city we had heard that there was a feudal war in progress
ahead of us, and when the military commander learned that we were
intending to go to Adioman, he interposed, saying he could take no
responsibility in sending us there; that he had just sent a hundred
soldiers out on that road to quell a riot; that it was dangerous, but he
would give us a good officer and soldiers for another road to Malatia.
This we accepted and four days more of mountain travel, via Paverly,
Soorgoo, and Guzena, brought us to the fruit and garden city of Malatia,
which formerly had a population of 45,000. It is reported that about
1500 houses were plundered and 375 were burned, and some thousands of
persons killed. The people of all classes were still in fear.
A sum of money from friends in America had been sent by the
missionaries, but its distribution had been delayed several weeks
through some formality in the post-office, and was but just being made
the day we arrived. We left here a sum for special cases and typhus
patients, and with a promise to return, pressed on to our objective
point, two days' journey more across the Euphrates at Isli to Harpoot,
when the limit of our time would be out for meeting the second
expedition which arrived only two hours ahead of us. Here the people
turned out _en masse_ to welcome the Red Cross; the road was lined, the
streets and windows filled, and house roofs covered, and all had words
of welcome on their lips. We were told by the Rev. Dr. Wheeler, the
founder of the Mission and American College of Central Turkey, that we
were the second party of Americans, not missionaries, that they had seen
in Harpoot in forty years. We were most cordially met by the mission
people. Although they, too, had been plundered, and most of their
buildings and their homes had gone in the flames, we were offered, most
kindly, the shelter of the remaining roofs and seats at their table as
long as we would stay.
We felt at home again, though startled, too, when we stopped to think we
were 8000 miles away and fifteen days by horseback to the nearest
steamer that might start us on a homeward trip or that could carry a
letter for us to the outside world. We had been told from the first that
Harpoot was suffering more than any other part of the interior, and here
we prepared to begin systematic work; Mr. Wistar taking the Char-Sanjak
with Peri as a centre, the Harpoot plain, and later the Aghan villages.
Mr. Wood took the Palou district with two hundred villages, and Silouan
in the Vilayet of Diarbekir with one hundred and sixty villages, with
the town of Palou and the city of Farkin as centers. While making these
arrangements we received your telegram of May 1st: "Typhus and dysentery
raging at Arabkir. Can you send doctors with medicines from Harpoot?
Please investigate." Upon inquiry we found reported one thousand sick
and many dying. This naturally would be my field.
After telegraphing to the various centres for additional medical help
without success, we found a native physician, educated in America, Dr.
Hintlian, at Harpoot, who was ready to go. Miss Caroline Bush and Miss
Seymour of the Mission, with unassumed bravery, volunteered to accompany
the expedition. As only one could leave, the choice fell upon Miss Bush.
When one reflects that this was a slight little body, never coming up to
the majesty of a hundred pounds, with sensitive nature, delicate
organization, educated and refined conditions of early life, fears might
well be felt for the weight of the lot assumed; but every day's contact
convinced us that the springs were of the best of steel, tempered by the
glowing fires of experience, thus teaching us how far mind may be
superior to matter.
On our first night out, as is frequently the custom in this country, we
slept in the stable with our horses--and _smaller animals_. On the
second day in crossing the Euphrates at Gabin Madin, the big wooden
scoop-shovel ferryboat struck a rock in the swift current mid-stream,
and came very near capsizing with its load of luggage, horses and human
beings. The boatmen lost their chance of making the opposite shore, and
we were in the swift current fast making for the gorge and rapids below.
I looked as unconcerned as I could at Miss Bush, only to see that she
was as calm as if this was an every-day occurrence or that she had been
from childhood accustomed to such experiences. We knew she had not, only
she had lived long enough in the interior not to be frightened at
anything that might happen. However, another rock was reached near the
bluff and we unloaded. Each leading his horse and the pack animals
following, we climbed up over the edge of a precipice, over loose
stones, slippery earth and ragged rocks, back to the landing we should
have made had we gone directly across.
Our next day's travel was through a cold, pouring rain, into the ruined
city of Arabkir, but notwithstanding the rain, hundreds of people stood
in the streets as we passed to make their "salaams" and to say their
word of welcome to those who had come to bring the gifts of another land
to the suffering, the sick and needy of their own. Passing through the
rain, we arrived at the native pastor's house, which had been saved by a
Turkish military officer and cleared of refugees and typhus patients for
our installation.
Nearly the entire city of Arabkir was in ruins, only heaps of stones
where houses had been. Out of eighteen hundred homes but few remained;
the markets as well as the dwellings were destroyed, and the people,
plundered and destitute, were crowded into the few remaining houses,
down with the typhus. We were told that six hundred had already died of
the disease, and the people's physician, the only one in that part of
the country, was in prison. Later we were told that the arrival of help
changed the character of the disease the moment it was known that we had
come. Miss Bush went with us directly into the sick rooms, and the
presence of a woman gave cheer and strength. A hundred patients were
seen daily. After the first wants of the typhus patients had been met
the long neglected surgical cases were looked after, and many lives and
limbs were saved. The medical and surgical efforts gave gratifying
results, of which Dr. Hintlian will make a special report from his daily
record.
Immediately upon our arrival the Gregorian church and school buildings,
which escaped destruction, were offered for our use as a hospital. These
rooms were admirably adapted for this purpose but by selecting and
employing persons already in need of help as assistants and nurses we
found that we could better care for the sick in their own quarters than
to attempt to remove them to a hospital, where the congregation of sick
would only be increased. To give employment was the one thing needed for
the well, therefore we made no hospitals, but employed competent,
healthy women in need, instructed and put them to care for sick families
also in need, but of another kind. The piaster a woman earned for a
day's work gave food for herself and for her own family, and gave the
sick family the services necessary to save their lives. The necessary
beds for the patients were furnished.
A sheep or a goat given where there was a helpless babe or mother would
give food for both, and be a permanent property that would grow by the
increase of its own young. A small sum for fowls would be a gift that
would furnish more than its value in eggs for food for present use. It
would prove a small investment that must multiply in kind and value as
chicks were hatched. While medical work was going on other forms of
relief were also in progress. A supply of tools had been ordered from
Harpoot, directly upon our arrival, for blacksmiths, carpenters,
tinkers, masons, stone workers, etc. The blacksmiths were set to work
making sickles for cutting grass and reaping grain; shovels, plows and
other implements for farmers. Others were put at making spinning-wheels
for the destitute women, who with these could earn their own living;
others made weaving looms. Out of the twelve hundred hand looms formerly
in the city it was said only forty remained. Arabkir was the chief
manufacturing centre for native cotton cloth, and if a man had a loom
which would cost three medjidieh (about $2.50) he could earn his own
family's living. Field and garden seeds were bought in quantity and
distributed.
[Illustration: SOME METHODS OF WORK.]
For the villages which had no cattle we gave oxen for plowing the
fields. Sometimes with the oxen, cows were given, with instructions that
in this stress of need the cows should be made to work with the oxen,
even while they were giving milk for the family. Thus they would
secure a double service for one outlay. Melkon Miranshahian, the
druggist, kindly offered his services, and we arranged with him to take
up special cases and to continue to care for them after we would no
longer be able to remain on the field. Then, feeling that we might
safely leave this work in the hands of Dr. Hintlian, we went to Egin to
arrange for distribution in the Aghan villages, Miss Bush accompanying.
[Illustration: SALEMLIK.]
[Illustration: PERA BRIDGE, CONSTANTINOPLE.]
[Illustration: TURKISH COFFEE HOUSE.]
[Illustration: HAMALLS, SHOWING MANNER OF CARRYING HEAVY BURDENS.]
The inquiry will naturally be made as to how relief was received. The
gratitude of the people was almost overwhelming at times. If you could
only have heard the blessings that were poured out upon Clara Barton,
the Red Cross, and the good people everywhere who have aided, you would
realize that deep as the need, so fervent and sincere have been the
thankful prayers and blessings that the unfortunate people who survive
the massacre could alone render to all who help them. To you and your
name especially were they responsive. Of all this, I would say we often
had most gratifying evidence and expression on the lonely roads, in the
stricken homes, and through personal letters from many sources.
When we were some six miles out on the road to Egin, we met the leading
men of the village of Shepik coming to town; they had heard that we were
going away soon, and the villagers had sent this committee to Arabkir to
express their gratitude for what they had received and for all that had
been done for them. This was five or six weeks after we had made a
distribution of seeds, and as we came in sight of their village we saw
gardens green with onions, potatoes, beans, cucumbers, melons, squash,
pumpkins, etc., from the seeds we had given. Here, too, the women were
in the fields cutting the grass and grain with the sickles which, the
blacksmith had made from the iron and steel we had furnished. The men
were plowing with the plows and oxen we had supplied and,
notwithstanding they had been plundered of every movable thing and their
houses burned or destroyed, there was an air of prosperity in the fields
that banished thoughts of want or suffering. We rode on past the little
room where the school was kept and every child rose to his feet and made
a most profound, though youthful bow to our passing company.
Egin is an old, strangely beautiful city, inhabited by the descendants
of the noble families of Mosul (NINEVEH) who fled to this mountain
stronghold on the Euphrates during the Persian invasion, many years ago,
and they are still a royal and gentle people. At Egin the officials
declared it unsafe for us to go to the villages as we had proposed.
Accordingly we made purchases in this market and sent them to the needy
points. Egin had bought the Kourds off with 1500 lire, and consequently
it had remained up to the date of our arrival unharmed through all the
destruction about it. We also left a sum of money with a responsible
committee for eight unfortunate villages, and did what medical work we
could in our short stay. We then returned to Harpoot.
On our road back, Miss Bush had with her a young girl whom we were
taking to Harpoot for safety (we had frequent charges of this kind), and
she wanted me to stop at her favorite beautiful village of Biervan, for
a pleasant picture to carry back in memory to America. We had a long
day's journey at best to reach our village, and had met with delays;
four hours in the morning waiting for a zaptieh. Our muleteer left us at
the ferry some twelve miles back, in order to stop over night at his own
village; and the second zaptieh was two hours late, but having started
we must keep on through the mountain pass, and it was ten o'clock at
night when we reached the village. Our zaptieh took us to the house of
the "Villageman" (each village is provided with such a personage whose
duty it is to see that shelter is provided for travelers). We rode up
together and the zaptieh pounded on the door. The dog on the roof barked
viciously, then all the dogs in the village barked. A woman on another
roof above this one raised herself and talked, then shouted down the
chimney-hole (the roof is the sleeping place in warm weather), after a
time she pointed with her hand and the zaptieh started off in the
direction indicated; the moon had gone down and it was too dark to see
anything distinctly. He came to a small pile, poked it with his foot,
punched it with his gun, kicked it.
After a time a part of the pile raised itself in a sort of surprised
astonishment, mystified, uncertain, complicated attitude--evidently
looking at the "poker." Then the pile expressed itself emphatically, the
zaptieh did the same more emphatically, each in turn louder and louder,
all with necessary and unnecessary gesticulation. Then the pile got up
and began on our servants for having the pack mules and animals on his
roof. After these had been led off the house, he wanted to know what we
came there for anyway, at that time of night, to wake him up when there
were six other villages we could have gone to; why didn't we go to one
of them? Then our zaptieh changed his tone and attitude and in the most
polite, persuasive, pleading voice and manner, tried to explain that he
himself was not to blame for all this trouble, he was under orders and
had to come with these people; he couldn't help doing his duty. But this
made no impression, and we were told there was no place for us.
None could be found at this time of night; besides there was no barley
for the horses, and nothing was to be done unless it was to go on and
try another village. Our zaptieh seemed to have exhausted his resources
and said no more. Other villagers had come and were standing around the
"villageman," who still insisted that he could do nothing. Miss Bush
quietly suggested "_Argentum_." We got down from our horse, went around
carelessly, and slipped a "cherek" (a five piaster piece) into his
fingers. He took and felt of it, and then went away without a word.
After about ten minutes he returned with a light, a door was opened
close beside us, and we unloaded our animals, put them all in, took in
the luggage, went in ourselves, got our supper, spread our blankets,
drove away our audience of villagers, fastened the stable door and
announced to ourselves that we were one hour into the "next day," and
went to sleep. We were off again the next morning before the sun was up.
This is a sample incident of what happened in frequent variation during
interior travel.
At Harpoot we arranged for supplying tools and cattle to the remaining
villages which we failed to reach from Egin. Here, too, we found Mr.
Wistar busy supplying harvesting and threshing implements, and cattle
for plowing in the Harpoot plain and villages. In this vilayet there are
upwards of two hundred villages either plundered or wholly destroyed,
and from these many persons of all classes came for medical or surgical
help.
Preparations were made to work in Malatia, where, some weeks before, we
had ordered supplies and medicines sent to be ready for our arrival, but
owing to the unsettled conditions there, no such work could be done to
advantage. The time for our return to Constantinople was drawing near
and on the twenty-seventh of June we were ready to start for the Black
Sea. We called to pay our respects to the governor of Harpoot and found
him as cordial as he had always been. Inquiries were made and
explanations given, so that he might more thoroughly understand the
character and purposes of the Red Cross. His Excellency remarked that it
gave to those engaged in the work great opportunities to become
acquainted with different countries, and that we must have found Turkey
the most difficult of them all to work in. He regretted that he himself
had been of so little assistance to our efforts, etc., but we took
pleasure in saying that he had done at all times all that we had asked
and ofttimes more. Speaking for those associated with our work I could
safely say that all the recollections of our personal relations with the
vali of Harpoot will remain with us as pleasant and satisfactory.
The principal food and the main crop of the interior is wheat, and this
year's growth wherever we have been is reported to be unusually good. If
the wheat can be distributed where the destitution will be this coming
winter, many lives may be saved; if not, many must inevitably be lost
for want of food. When we left the Harpoot valley harvesting had well
begun, and was even more briskly going on as we neared the Euphrates,
which we crossed for the last time at Isli on the twenty-ninth of June.
The usual Euphrates ferry-boat is twenty-four to thirty feet long, eight
feet wide, and two feet high at one end and eight at the other where a
rudder, or sweep, forty feet long is hung. An American frequently sees
methods of work and management that lead him sometimes, when first
traveling, to make suggestions. After seeing the ferrymen upon many
occasions putting loaded wagons on the boat, lifting them by main force
some two or three feet with much awkwardness over the edge of the craft,
we ventured to suggest that two planks laid on the bank and end of the
boat so as to roll the wagons in or out would save much trouble and time
and extra help and labor. We were met with this unanswerable reply: "Who
would pay for them?"
To Malatia we carried money to the people from their relatives in
America which had been entrusted to Dr. Barnum at Harpoot. We also left
in the hands of a responsible committee a fund for artisans' tools, and
a smaller sum for food and supplies in special needy cases. The feeling
of security among the people in Malatia was entirely absent. They had
seen terrible slaughter. They were possessed with fear to such an extent
that we could meet very few of them; and had we not known, that it was
Doctor Gates' Plan to visit the place soon with assistants and means
from Harpoot it would have pained us still more to leave them in their
terrible condition, for we could not remain to carry on the work, and an
unwise or untimely effort often fails of its end or only aggravates the
conditions it seeks to relieve.
The sun is extremely hot during the summer in the interior, hence when
the moon was favorable we traveled by night, leaving the saddle long
enough to sleep in the "Araba" (a sort of small, springless, covered
wagon used where there are roads) so as to have the day to work in while
our horses rested. When we could do so in our journey we left funds for
specified purposes, but frequently the sufferers felt safer without such
assistance and declined to receive it. At Sivas we gave a fund for
farmers' tools. Here the grain crop was later than in the valleys
further south. We also left here with the Rev. Messrs. Perry and
Hubbard, a horse, in order to facilitate their relief work. From Malatia
several families and individuals placed themselves under the protection
of the Red Cross and its guards in order to go in safety to the coast. A
portion of this road is infested with brigands and a strong guard is
necessary, in fact it is needed throughout the whole region. The
government took particular care of us by giving us a brigand as a
special guard through the dangerous part of the road, saying that we
should be safer with him than with the regular military guard. A few
weeks before a rich caravan was robbed on this road, and when we passed
we had the interesting pleasure of taking tea and journeying for a while
with the chief of these brigands who had two days before been enlisted
in government service. With the ample government protection we have at
all times had, we seldom felt concern for our personal safety,
notwithstanding that in places where we visited there was often a great
deal of anxiety and fear on the part of the people for their own safety
and that of their friends, or their property if they had any.
Tokat and Amasia were on our homeward route--the latter place being the
site of the ancient castle of Mithridates, King of Pontus.
At Samsoun we had two saddle horses to dispose of, and our consular
agent, Mr. Stephapopale, having a stable, kindly offered to sell them to
the best profit for us, and to see that the proceeds were used in aiding
the refugees who crowd to the coast in the hope of getting farther on,
but only find themselves stranded and unable to return, becoming thereby
veritable sufferers.
On the sixteenth of July we reached the Bosphorus, four months and six
days from the time we started out from Constantinople for the interior,
glad of the privilege and power we have enjoyed as messengers to carry
some of the gifts that have been entrusted to your care by the people of
America for the innocent, unfortunate sufferers of Anatolia.