Afghanistan

by A. Hamilton

THE FAMOUS CAGE ON THE
SUMMIT OF THE LATABAND
PASS

The bazaars of Kabul are quite unworthy of the capital, but radical improvement in their character could only be made by a complete reconstruction of the city. Here and there new ones have been built, Habib Ullah himself having erected several at his own expense, but the principle of construction, adopted at the time of the building of the city, is the great stumbling block to any extensive alterations. The narrowness of the streets, many of which are mere alleys, gives rise to perpetual congestion; while, in consequence of their contracted character, they are always dirty and overloaded with the refuse of the houses, more particularly in winter when they are blocked with the snow, which is swept from the roofs. Of the several bazaars of the city,[42] the three principal, running irregularly parallel to each other, are the Shor Bazar, the Erg Bazar, and the Darwaza Lahori Bazar. The former extends east and west from the Bala Hissar to the Ziarat Baba Khudi, a distance of little more than three-quarters of a mile. The latter, stretching from the Darwaza Lahori, passes through the centre of the wood market and terminates at the New Bridge. The Erg Bazar crosses the town and communicates with the workshops. The western portion of the Darwaza Lahori Bazar was the site of the Char Chata, at one time undoubtedly the most magnificent bazaar in Afghanistan. The structure, ascribed to Ali Mardan Khan, whose name is immortal in these countries, was handsomely laid out and highly embellished with paintings. Four covered arcades, of equal length and dimensions, were separated from each other by open squares, originally provided with wells and fountains. The entire fabric was destroyed in October 1842 by General Pollock, as retribution for the murder of Sir William Macnaghten and the indignities offered to his remains.

WEIGHING WOOD IN THE BAZAAR

The Nakush Bazar, or cattle market, is situated north of the Kabul river and west of the Pul-i-Kishti in the Indarabi quarter. The Mandi Kalan and the Mandi Shahzada, the chief grain bazaars, lie in the Tandur Sazi quarter, between the Shor Bazar and the Darwaza Lahori. The Shikarpuri quarter, adjoining the Pul-i-Kishti on the right bank of the river, is the fruit market. Here are collected the various fruits for which the capital of Afghanistan is so famous, the exhibition of grapes, apples, apricots and pears becoming at once the glory of the bazaars. Melons are missing from this bazaar, as this important branch of the fruit trade of Afghanistan is conducted in the Mandi Kalan. Near to the fruit bazaar are the wood and charcoal markets, each section of trade possessing its particular locality and its special marketplace.

In this way there is a shoe bazaar, a meat market, a vegetable market, a copper bazaar, silk bazaar and certain central marts where arms, tobacco, furs, medicines and cloth are sold. In the boot bazaar there are a number of Anglo-Indian importations and no less a quantity from Russia. The native shoes are made from leather which is manufactured in Kabul at the Amir’s factory—articles of local manufacture being put up as a rule upon the premises where they are sold. The more important merchants possess accommodation beneath their shops, where craftsmen, whose special industry is allied with the business in the premises above them, are employed. These underground rooms are so small that the men at work are compelled to crouch over their knees, while customers, who bring articles for repair, sit in the street. In the copper bazaar, where domestic utensils are to be found, there is the ceaseless tapping of countless hammers, as the men, assisted by boys who ply the bellows or feed the furnace with charcoal, wield their tools upon long-necked vases, hubble-bubbles, kettles, cooking pots, water-bottles with delicate handles and graceful spouts, stoves, plates and copper boxes of all shapes and sizes. These workers in metals, whether they are the ironmongers or silversmiths, smelters of copper or the moulders of brass, are worthy of their hire, and bring to their labours an extraordinary patience and exactitude. The silversmiths are, perhaps, the most wonderful craftsmen, although the men who trace fantastic designs upon metal vessels with blunt instruments are not to be despised. From early morning, without cessation until the heat of the mid-day hours makes work impossible, they bend over their tasks, actively working their pliers, tweezers and hammers as they fashion ear-rings, bracelets or graven ewers. The business, transacted at these stalls, seems out of proportion with the labour involved, as sales are arranged between the merchant and his customers only after many days of protracted dealing.

The method of barter is always the same in the East. Customers sit down by the side of the merchant, examining and asking the value of his goods, praising certain pieces and decrying others, until conversation has worked round to the article which it is desired to buy. Ten times the price will be asked at first, perhaps haggled over with all sincerity, until, as the would-be purchaser rises to leave, a few rupees will be knocked off the figure which the vendor has been demanding. It is then prudent to leave, returning some other day to begin over again. The hours spent in an Oriental bazaar are of such supreme interest that they are sacrificed very willingly and are not easily forgotten. The setting of the scene is romantic, while the life of the city passes in endless, kaleidoscopic changes of character, of costume and of men and beasts. It is never wise to hurry transactions conducted amid such environment. Time is of no value to the merchant, who regards the overtures with indifference. He may hope that ultimately his customer will become his patron, but he would never show his satisfaction nor lose an opportunity to drive a haggling bargain. Around the shops there are always groups of idle but profoundly interested spectators. Some one ascertains the price the worker is paid; another inquires of the merchant the amount he will receive for it; and, in the hope of extracting a commission from the proprietor of the shop or his purchaser, all are eager to advise the customer upon the merits of the article he may have chosen or the sum he may have offered.

In the silk and cotton bazaar there is equally the press and bustle of an active trade, a continuous passing of gaily-decked customers and busy traders—from India with caravans of silk, from Turkestan with bales of printed cottons, plain calicoes and other articles of Russian manufacture, merchants and itinerant traders from the most distant parts of Afghanistan, from Persia and from Kashgar. There is, too, a wonderful blaze of colour in the silk stalls, while the display of goods in the cotton shops reveals a various assortment of English clothing—cotton and merino vests, men’s shirts, drawers and socks—and a variety of coloured waistbands, a weird collection of ties and some really startling handkerchiefs from India. These stalls, whether their effects are imported from India or from Turkestan, are mostly in the keeping of Hindus, who transact a very profitable business with their Afghan masters. Nevertheless, long intercourse with Afghanistan has quite crushed the Hindu, obliterating all trace of his original individuality, and emphasising his inborn humility and lack of spirit. In Kabul the Hindus pay a poll tax and wear turbans, which may be only red or yellow—a similar rule prevailing in Kandahar. Formerly they affected the red, the blue lungi, which is prohibited to them, being favoured by the Afghans. Similar indications of prosperity may be found in the skin bazaar, where the furriers are engaged in making the fur coats for which Kabul has become famous. Here there are several kinds of expensive furs such as marten, a variety of red fox, squirrel, wild cat and astrakhan. Over the latter fur the Amir exercises a monopoly. The cheaper kinds are put to numerous purposes, figuring as lining for cloaks, hats and high boots of the Russian and Turcoman pattern. Many of the fur caps are costly in production and elaborate in design. Cut from a piece of velvet, trimmed with fur and heavily embroidered with gold thread from Benares, they are sold in the Kabul bazaars only to the richest classes, becoming, as a rule, a finishing touch to a costume which, on the score of colour effect, will leave little to be desired.

The character of the costume adopted by the average Afghan depends, in a certain measure, upon whether he is a hillsman or one who is accustomed to town-life. If he possess merely a casual acquaintanceship with the life of the towns, coming to them from some small village or in charge of a trading caravan from the border, his costume is simple although effective. Probably he is a fine-looking man: tall, with a long, blue-black beard; his head may be shaven, or his long hair may hang in ringlets over his shoulders. He will wear a small unembroidered skull-cap and wound round it a blue, coarse, cotton lungi. A loose vest, caught at the waist by the ample folds of a cummerbund, will reach the knees; and tucked within these folds there will be pistols and an array of formidable knives. His drawers of cotton and reaching only a little below the knees are very baggy. Round his shoulders there will be thrown carelessly, but with conspicuous grace, a heavy blue cotton shawl; his feet will be ornamented by leather sandals with high curving toes.