مراسلات، قصاصات من الصحف، صورة فوتوغرافية ومراسلات عن بلاد فارس والخليج العربي [ظ‎‎٣‎١‎١] (٨٧٩/٦٢٥)

6
THE TIMES OF INDIA MAIL EDITION.
which we inspected so uninviting that I de
cided to move on to the next village. This
was sixteen miles distant, so the muleteers
protested vigorously on the ground that their
animals were tired and because it would be
dark before they could arrive. At the next
village, however, was the house of Amir Mu-
jahed, whom I had met in Teheran, and sure
of finding accommodation there, I insisted on
proceeding, pointing out to the muleteers that
they had greatly annoyed me in the morning by
being late and that they must now sacrifice
their own wishes to mine. So a very sulky
party it was that resumed the march. Pushing
ahead with Agajan we rode as hard as my
wretched little tat could be persuaded to go,
but found ourselves overtaken by darkness
without seeing a sign of Shamsabad, the
village for which we were bound. We knew
nothing about the road, and could only guess
that the track we had hitherto followed was
the correct one. For three hours we did not
see a living soul and then as it grew dark we
encountered a party of men and donkeys. A
meeting of this kind is not always desirable,
and we were glad to discover that these people
were harmless, as they doubtless were glad to
find us. They advised us about the track and
we proceeded, leading our animals, for it seem
ed safer to walk than to ride over such rough
ground as we were now crossing. We toiled
along in the dark for another hour and then
from the top of a low pass heard dogs barking
and saw a few twinkling lights in the valley
below. To keep clear of the teeth of the sav
age watch-dog that infest Bakhtiari villages,
we mounted and rode forward. We were soon
detected and surrounded by a pack of vicious
brutes that kept up a terrifying chorus of bark
ing and snarling. Our beasts were accustom
ed to this sort of treatment however, and
marched calmly on into the village, where I
soon discovered the Khan’s house, for it was
surrounded by a high wall with turrets, where
as the rest of the habitations were little more
than heaps of mud with holes in the side.
Transported to a Palace.
Dismounting in the gateway I led my horse
forward until stopped by several dark figures
who wanted to know our business. I said I was
English, whereupon my hands were violently
seized and I was cordially invited in my own
language to enter. Truly an astonishing re
ception in such an out of the way place. After
the rough travelling of the last few days, and
the wild people and country to which we
were becoming habituated, subsequent expe
riences at Shamsabad were like a taste of the
magic of the Arabian Nights. Out of the cold
starlit night, I was. led by the hand up a
broad flight of steps to a deep verandah, and
from thence into a thick carpeted room, where
a large, fireplace was filled with gaily burning
logs. On the mantelpiece stood a huge gilt-
framed mirror, and on the shelf a gilded clock
flanked by large golden ornaments. Richly
upholstered furniture was arranged round the
walls, and coloured lamps standing in tall
brass and crystal pillars cast a soft and glow
ing light throughout this wonderful chamber.
Blinking amid so much brilliance it was some
time before I was able to take stock of the
good genie, who had rescued me from the
wilderness and transported me into a palace.
Mehdi Guli Khan, he was, and eldest son to
Sirdar Zaffar, one of the family of brothers
which divided between them the honored places
of Bakhtiari officialdom. He informed me that
only that day a number of the principal khans
had arrived at Shamsabad, attended by many
horsemen, and that they were now at dinner in
another room. Among them was the owner of
the house, who had marched into Teheran with
the Bakhtiari forces in the Nationalist inter
est and Amir Mufakhan, his first cousin, who
had fought so furiously against the Bakhtiaris
and Nationalists in the Shah’s interests. Mehdi
Guli Khan himself had commanded the detach
ment of Bakhtiaris who had helped the Shah
to besiege Tabriz, while his father, also pre
sent, had sworn on the Koran to support Mu-
hamad Ali through thick and thin. Both, how
ever, had been converted to nationalism and
had to be helped, to drive out the Shah. It was
interesting to hear of the lions and tigers thus
amicably sharing the same fold. Political com
plexions in Persia are easy to change, and
among the Bakhtiaris there are no convictions
to be sacrificed. Shah or parliament mattered
little to them, so long as they were on the
right side. They are ardent only in the cause
of Bakhtiari rights and privileges.
Feasting in the Mountains.
I now made the acquaintance of
another young man with whom. I
was able to communicate in French.
He had been educated in Teheran and Isfahan
and was now living with Amir Mujahed in
order to teach the latter French. He was, ap
pointed to look after me, and remained my
close companion until I left. Not long after
my arrival dinner was brought in, and a
more excellent meal I never want
to eat. The principal dish was. a
huge plate of pilau flavoured with
currants’, raisons, cloves, cinnamon and other
spices. Hidden in this mountain of rice was
a young lamb boiled whole, and so tender
that the flesh came off with the slightest pull.
Stewed mutton, boiled chicken and roasted
partridge were minor dishes. Delicious pickl
ed walnuts, excellent cheese and a huge heap
of the large flaps that do duty as bread in
Persia were conspicuous, as were a dish of
masth, . that form of curdled milk known as
yourt in Turkey and by various other names
throughout Central Asia. In the masth was
a sliced vegetable that must have been some
sort of radish, the two forming a delightful
combination of tastes. To drink there was
orange sherbet Served with delicate pearwood
ladles from a great Chinese bowl. That morn-
ing I had breakfasted at seven o’clock, and
throughout the livelong day, which we had
DIARY OF A TRAVELLER.
Bakhtiari Hospitality.
SHELIL, BAKHTIARI LAND, January, 4.
We spent the night in the village of Madras
sell, in the house of a local notable who put
his best room at my disposal. So far as I
could gather I was the first white man ever
seen there, as the village is beyond the ridge
by which the road crosses the river, and so of
the track of travellers. Consequently we were
besieged by sight-seers eager for a glimpse of the
Feringhi. Having got rid of the men after a
great deal of trouble, I next had to run the
gauntlet of the women’s eyes. Female modesty
was quite eclipsed by feminine curiosity, and
the end of their peeping was that half a dozen
filed into the room and sat round me in a
semi-circle to gaze their fill. The Persian
woman is such a sacred creature that I was
not sorry for the opportunity to reciprocate.
And so we sat and looked at each other for
about ten minutes, when they could stand it
no longer and fled shrieking with laughter.
The old ones were about as plain as they could
be, the younger plump and not bad looking
while one little girl aged nine was as pretty
a child as one could wish to see. My host had
an old wife and a young one, each with chil
dren, and the whole boiling slept together at
night, in a circle round a charcoal fire. Over
the fire was a low wooden frame and over that
a large quilt which made a hot cave into which
all the family legs were thrust. I was
cordially invited by the little girl to share the
warmth, to the amusement of her mother, but
declined the pleasure owing to the infernally
unwashed appearance of the company. Mad-
rasseh proved a place of much vexation, for
when the time for starting came the muleteers
were not forthcoming. It appeared that this
was their native village and that they had re
tired to the bosoms of their families and for
gotten all about their duties. There was a ter
ribly long delay before they were rooted out
and' the caravan set going. It was then that
I discovered that Madrasseh was off the road
and that I had been tricked into spending the
night there. In the morning we had to march
back on our own tracks of the previous night.
My grievances against the rascal Reza were
already considerable although we were only
two days out from Isfahan. My turn was to
come however.
Friendly Tribesmen.
We now resumed the transit of the broad
desert valley of which I wrote in my last
article. After a few miles we reached the
foot of the mountains forming the far side of
the valley, and rose sharply to the Gerdan-i-
Rukh, a pass about 7,000 feet above sea level.
The ridge constitutes the boundary between
Bakhtiari land and Persian territory, as well
as the watershed dividing the drainage towards
Central Persia and towards the Persian Gulf.
From the pass we looked down upon the large
and fertile plain of Chahar Mahal, a strong
hold of the Bakhtiari Khans, and the region
where the great Karun river is born. Right in
the pass stood a small guardhouse built of loose
stones, and here were a few wild-looking Bakh-
tiaris, who, I was glad to find, showed no in
clination to shoot me. That might have been
because I had climbed the pass in company
with Chiragh Ali and was engaged in deep
conversation with him when we arrived at the
guardhouse. The wild tribesmen assailed the
little khan with loud cries of delight, and the
tenderness with which he was lifted off his
horse could not have been surpassed. I was
politely invited to partake of tea, and we all
squatted round a little charco 1 fire while
Chiragh Ali was catechised regarding his ex
periences in the city of Isafahan. There I
left him and proceeded down the hill on foot,
leaving my nag to be looked after by the char-
vadar. That rascal let the beast loose among
the caravan animals, and all scrambled along
together in amity until we reached level ground,
when I decided to mount again. The shaggy,
skinny, angular, cow-hocked ewe-necked,
Roman-nosed, little rat reserved for my riding,
and called a horse out of the purest courtesy,
looked as if nothing less than a red-hot poker
would make him go faster than a slow walk.
He had his eye on me as I waited for him t
come up, and when I stretched my haul cut
to catch the rein he just slewed himself out of
reach. I walked unconcernedly after thinking
that if I showed no anxiety he wouldn’t
either. For half a mile we walked thus, he
always a clear length in front whether I moved
quickly or slowly. Then I made a dart at
him—and missed. Up went his heels and with
a squeal he was off. Finally the wretch was
chased into a bog, where he sank up to his belly
and had to be hauled out by the tail. When at
last I remounted, I swore a solemn oath never
again to let him go.
A Land of Desolation.
The descent from the pass brought us into
a long, narrow valley, without trees or sign of
habitation. More dreary and desolate a re
gion could hardly be imagined, though in sum
mer the valley is doubtless filled by encamp-
merits. After two hours travelling, however,
we reached the village of Qahn-i-Rukh and
tound ourselves in Chahar Mahal, a great plain
dotted with small mud villages. Owing to the
extreme cold at night I hesitated to pitch me
tents and requested to be provided with a lodg
ing for the night. A look into the caravanserai
was enough, for there were no proper rooms,
while the rows of archways under which men
and animals sheltered together were feet deep
in accumulated filth. We tried to obtain
quarters in a private house but found those
travelled over thirty miles of which I had
walked the greater part, never a bite had
passed my lips. What a blessed thing is the
conjunction of a strong appetite and a good
meal. The greatest depths of feeling can be
reached through the stomach, and the recol
lections of the emotions stirred within me by
the hospitality of the Bakhtiari Chief in the
recesses of the Persian mountains will long
remain for me a precious memory.
The Start for Shuster,
Arrangements for the night were very com
fortable. A huge mattress covered in velvet
was laid upon floor, and with it were supplied i
a pillow and thick quilt. In the next room |
were about a hundred Bakhtiaris talking
against time and against each
other in the most harmoniously man
ner. I think their conviviality was sti
mulated by something stronger than orange
sherbet, but in regards to things forbidden it
is not meet for a backsliding Christian to en
quire too closely into the doings of the Maho-
medan brother. My French-speaking friend
stretched alongside of me. I went off to sleep
with the murmer of many voices in my ears, |
and remembered nothing more until high
morning. My hosts would not hear of my
departing before the mid-day meal, so I spent
the forenoon in visiting the local sights, which
amounted to nothing at all, for a Bakhtiari
village is as miserable and poverty-stricken
looking place as well could be imagined. The
men seemed comfortable and happy enough
sitting in the sun with their backs against the
walls. But the children were ill-clad and
sickly, and everybody seemed unacquainted
with the practice of washing. From an in
spection of the village it was a relief to get
back to the house of the Khan, a good solid
house standing inside a wall, and not nearly
so romantic a place in the light of day as it
, had appeared the night before. I had a long
. and interesting interview with the khans be
fore lunch, a meal on the same generous lines
at the previous night’s dinner, and then took
leave of my host. I had received the great
est kindness and attention both from the
owner of the house and from the other Bakh
tiari chiefs assembled there, and left with the
impression that it would be difficult to en
counter more pleasant people. The letters
from Teheran no doubt helped to smooth the
way, but apart from these introductions I have
no doubt that I should still have been well
received, for the Bakhtiaris have long been
known for their friendliness to strangers in
general and to British travellers in particular.
One consequence of the letters was the attach
ment to my person of two sowars who were
instructed to give me any assistance on the
road, and on no account to leave me until I
was safely bestowed in Shuster.
THE TIMES OF INDIA MAIL EDITION.
DIARY OF A TRAVELLER.
Bakhtiari Hospitality.
SHELIL, BAKHTIARI LAND, January, 4.
We spent the night in the village of Madras-
seh, in the house of a local notable who put
his best room at my disposal. So far as I
could gather I was the first white man ever
seen there, as the village is beyond the ridge
by which the road crosses the river, and so oft
the track of travellers. Consequently we were
besieged by sight-seers eager for a glimpse of the
Feringhi. Having got rid of the men after a
great deal of trouble, I next had to run the
gauntlet of the women’s eyes. Female modesty
was quite eclipsed by feminine curiosity, and
the end of their peeping was that half a dozen
filed into the room and sat round me in a
semi-circle to gaze their fill. The Persian
woman is such a sacred creature that I was
not sorry for the opportunity to reciprocate.
And so we sat and looked at each other for
about ten minutes, when they could stand it
no longer and tied shrieking with laughter.
The old ones were about as plain as they could
be, the younger plump and not bad looking
while one little girl aged nine was as pretty
a child as one could wish to see. My host had
an old wife and a young one, each with chil
dren, and the whole boiling slept together at
night, in a circle round a charcoal fire. Over
the fire was a low wooden frame and over that
a large quilt which made a hot cave into which
all the family legs were thrust. I was
cordially invited by the little girl to share the
warmth, to the amusement of her mother, but
declined the pleasure owing to the infernally
unwashed appearance of the company. Mad-
rasseh proved a place of much vexation, for
when the time for starting came the muleteers
were not forthcoming. It appeared that this
was their native village and that they had re
tired to the bosoms of their families and for
gotten all about their duties. There was a ter
ribly long delay before they were rooted out
and the caravan set going. It was then that
I discovered that Madrasseh was off the road
and that I had been tricked into spending the
night there. In the morning we had to march
back on our own tracks of the previous night.
My grievances against the rascal Reza were
already considerable although we were only
two days out from Isfahan. My turn was to
come however.
Friendly Tribesmen.
We now resumed the transit of the broad
desert valley of which I wrote in my last
article. After a few miles we reached the
—£ 1—~ il -■ --4 . r : , , i 1
which we inspected so uninviting that I de
cided to move on to the next village. This
was sixteen miles distant, so the muleteers
protested vigorously on the ground that their
animals were tired and because it would be
dark before they could arrive. At the next
village, however, was the house of Amir Mu-
jahed, whom I had met in Teheran, and sure
of finding accommodation there, I insisted on
proceeding, pointing out to the muleteers that
they had greatly annoyed me in the morning by
being late and that they must now sacrifice
their own wishes to mine. So a very sulky
party it was that resumed the march. Pushing
ahead with Agajan we rode as hard as my
wretched little tat could be persuaded to go,
but found ourselves overtaken by darkness
without seeing a sign of Shamsabad, the
village for which we were bound. We knew
nothing about the road, and could only guess
that the track we had hitherto followed was
the correct one. For three hours we did not
see a living soul and then as it grew dark we
encountered a party of men and donkeys. A
meeting of this kind is not always desirable,
and we were glad to discover that these people
were harmless, as they doubtless were glad to
find us. They advised us about the t rack and
we proceeded, leading our animals, for it seem
ed safer to walk than to ride over such rough
ground as we were now crossing. We toiled
along in the dark for another hour and then
from the top of a low pass heard dogs barking
and saw a few twinkling lights in the valley
below'. To keep clear of the teeth of the sav
age watch-dog that infest Bakhtiari villages,
we mounted and rode forward. We were soon
detected and surrounded by a pack of vicious
brutes that kept up a terrifying chorus of bark
ing and snarling. Our beasts were accustom
ed to this sort of treatment however, and
marched calmly on into the village, where I
soon discovered the Khan’s house, for it was
surrounded by a high wall with turrets, where
as the rest of the habitations were little more
than heaps of mud with holes in the sid..
Transported to a Palace.
Dismounting in the gateway I led my horse
forward until stopped by several dark figures
who wanted to know our business. I said I was
1 English, whereupon my hands were violently
seized and I was cordially invited in my own
language to enter. Truly an astonishing re
ception in such an out of the way place. After
the rough travelling of the last few days, and
the wild people and country to which we
were becoming habituated, subsequent expe
riences at Shamsabad were like a taste of the
magic of the Arabian Nights. Out of the cold
starlit night, 1 was led by the hand up a
broad flight of steps to a deep verandah, and
from thence into a thick carpeted room, where
a large fireplace was filled with gaily burning
logs. On the mantelpiece stood a huge gilt-
travelled over thirty miles of which I had
walked the greater part, never a bite had
passed my lips. What a blessed thing is the
conjunction of a strong appetite and a good
meal. The greatest depths of feeling can be
reached through the stomach, and the recol
lections of the emotions stirred within me by
the hospitality of the Bakhtiari Chief in the
recesses of the Persian mountains will long
remain for me a precious memory.
The Start for Shuster.
Arrangements for the night were very com
fortable. A huge mattress covered in velvet
was laid upon floor, and with it were supplied
a pillow and thick quilt. In the next room
were about a hundred Bakhtiaris talking
against time and against each
other in the most harmoniously man
ner. I think their conviviality was sti
mulated by something stronger than orange
sherbet, but in regards to tilings forbidden it
is not meet for a backsliding Christian to en
quire too closely into the doings of the Maho-
medan brother. My French-speaking friend
stretched alongside of me. I went off to si ep
with the murmer of many voices in my ears,
and remembered nothing more until high
morning. My hosts would not hear of my
departing before the mid-day meal, so I spent
the forenoon in visiting the local sights, which
amounted to nothing at all, for a Bakhtiari
village is as miserable and poverty-stricken
looking place as well could be imagined. The
men seemed comfortable and happy enough
sitting in the sun with their backs against the
walls. But the children were ill-clad and
sickly, and everybody seemed unacquainted
with the practice of washing. From an in
spection of the village it was a relief to get
back to the house of the Khan, a good solid
house standing inside a wall, and not nearly
so romantic a place in the light of day as it
had appeared the night before. 1 had a long
and interesting interview with the khans be
fore lunch, a meal on the same generous lines
at the previous night’s dinner, and then took
leave of my host. I had received the great
est kindness and attention both from the
owner of the house and from the other Bakh
tiari chiefs assembled there, and left with the
impression that it would be difficult to en
counter more pleasant people. The letters
from Teheran no doubt helped to smooth the
way, but apart from these introductions I have
no doubt that I should still have been well
received, for the Bakhtiaris have long been
known for their friendliness to strangers in
general and to British travellers in particular.
One consequence of the letters was the attach
ment to my person of two sowars who were
instructed to give me any assistance on the
road, and on no account to leave me until I
was safely bestowed in Shuster.