XVIII.
GOMUSHTEPE.
We had to wait out in the sea for a while, until the boats were sent by Yakub to take us to shore. We were conveyed in small detachments to the dry land, Hadji Bilal and myself remaining the last. When we stepped on land we were informed that Yakub had already announced our arrival to Khandjan, the chief of the Gomushtepe, and that the latter was hastening to receive us at once. He was kneeling a few steps from us, engaged in his noon-prayers; and having done, he rose and came towards us with hurried steps. He was a tall, slenderly built, very plainly dressed man, about forty years old, his long beard reaching his breast. He embraced me first, and calling me by my name, cordially bade me welcome. Then came Hadji Bilal's and Hadji Salih's turn, and our whole caravan being together we all followed him to the tents. The news of our arrival had already spread, and women, children and dogs promiscuously rushed out of the tents to see the pilgrims, who, according to their mollahs (priests), by their mere embrace make the untravelled partakers of divine grace, and sharers, to some extent, in the merit of the pilgrimage. The scene before my eyes was so novel, so surprising, that I did not know which way first to turn my attention; the oddly constructed cloth tents, and the women in their long silk skirts, reaching to their heels, claiming it alike. Besides I had enough to do to satisfy the hundreds of friendly hands extended to me to be shaken. The young and the old, children and women, were striving to get near our persons in order to touch the hadjis, to whose garments the holy dust of Mecca and Medina was still clinging. We arrived in front of the chief Ishan's (priest's) tent quite exhausted by the devout and hospitable reception. We collected in one group waiting for quarters to be assigned to us. The inhabitants who were gathered there almost engaged in a regular scuffle about having us for their guests; every one wished to be the host of one of the poor pilgrims, and much as I had heard of the hospitality of the Nomads, it was all exceeded by what I had now an opportunity of witnessing. The women especially were vociferous in their rivalry, so much so that Khandjan himself was compelled to put an end to their scrambling by making an equitable distribution of the pilgrims. He took me, Hadji Bilal and those belonging to our own set into his own ova (tent). In order to reach his tent, which was at the very end of Gomushtepe, we had to pass through the whole camp, extending on both sides of the river Gorghen. This river rises far away in the mountains, abounding in fish to such an extent as to render its waters almost foul at the best of times, and quite undrinkable in summer. Twice I washed in it, and each time my face and hands smelt of fish.
RECEIVING THE PILGRIMS.The dusk of evening was approaching when we arrived, tired and exhausted, at Khandjan's tent, hoping to get a little rest. Vain hope! True, there was the tent destined for us, standing near that of Khandjan, on the shore of the Gorghen, but scarcely had we taken possession of it, with the customary ceremony of walking thrice round it and spitting at each of the four corners, than visitors came crowding into the narrow space. They remained till late in the evening asking us thousands of questions which it taxed our whole strength to answer properly. Our host at length took pity on us, and called upon our visitors to leave us to ourselves in order that we might obtain some rest. Supper, consisting of boiled fish and sour milk, was brought us meanwhile by Khandjan's son, a boy twelve years old, called Baba Djan—i.e., literally, the father's soul. The meal was brought into the tent on a large wooden platter by a Persian slave, who dragged a heavy chain after him. He was relieved of the dish by Baba Djan, who placed it before us, and sat down by his father's side, while both looked at us with genuine satisfaction as we fell to with our keen appetites upon the dishes before us. After the meal was over we said our prayers in the customary way. Hadji Bilal raised his hands, every one present following his example, and as he finished by passing his hand over his beard and saying, "Bismillah," Allah Ekber, his action was repeated by everybody. Then Khandjan was congratulated on all sides on account of his guests, and the visitors dispersed.
On the following morning, the 13th of April, as I awoke thoroughly refreshed and invigorated by a night's sound sleep on a tolerably comfortable couch, I found Hadji Bilal standing by my side and was invited by him to take a walk. HOW TO BECOME A DERVISH.During the walk he sermonized me a little, telling me that it was time I should doff the rank of Effendi, and become a dervish body and soul. "Thou must have observed," he continued, "that both I and all our companions, without distinction of age, have said our fatiha (blessing) on the men. This thou too must now look to. I know that it is not the custom to do so in Roum, but here people will wish it of thee, and they will find it very strange that thou, professing to be a dervish, dost not fulfil the duties of a dervish. Thou knowest the form of blessing; utter it with confidence and a proper expression of devoutness. Thou mayest bestow the nefes (holy breath) too, if called to the bedside of the sick; but ever remember to hold out thy hand, for well do these people know that we dervishes live by our holy trade, and that a present is never amiss with us." He then asked my pardon for having dared to instruct me, but, added, that he meant it for my best. I need not say that I felt much obliged to him for his advice and observations, which were prompted by the genuine interest he took in me.
On this occasion my friend told me also that Khandjan and other Turkomans had been inquiring about me, with a peculiarly mysterious air, and that he succeeded, with great difficulty only, in persuading them that my journey possessed no official character whatever. The Turkomans thought I was going to Khiva and Bokhara on some secret and confidential anti-Russian mission of the Sultan. Hadji Bilal was too sensible to flatly contradict their impressions in the matter, well knowing that they hold the Sultan in high respect, and that I should be benefited by making them think more highly of me.
We returned to our quarters, and found Khandjan with his whole family, his relations and numerous friends, already waiting for us. He brought to us his wife and his aged mother, to obtain for them our blessing. We blessed everybody present, one by one. Khandjan then declared that, guests being according to Turkoman custom the dearest members of the family, we could go about without let or hindrance not only amongst his tribe, the Kelte, but also amongst that of Yomut, and that if any of them should so much as dare to touch a hair of our heads, he would know how to obtain satisfaction for such an outrage. "You must remain with us two weeks longer, at least," continued our host, "until some caravan happens to go to Khiva. Take now your rest, visit the other tents; a Turkoman never allows a dervish to leave his tent with an empty hand, and it will do you no harm to fill your bread-sacks well, for it is a long journey from here to Khiva and Bokhara."
We gladly followed his advice. During the first day I went visiting at several of the tents, in the company of Khandjan, or his brother and friends of the family. Later on I went with Hadji Bilal, bestowing blessings, or visiting the sick in company of Hadji Salih, who dabbled considerably in the art of healing. Whilst he gave the medicine, I bestowed the blessing on the patient, and was rewarded for it by the gift of a small piece of cloth, dried fish and other trifles. Whether it was owing to my successful cures or to the curiosity of the people to see the hadji from Roum, I do not know, but certain it is that patients came flocking to me, and I treated them by either bestowing my blessing upon them, or breathing upon them, or writing talismans for them. Here and there sceptical people thought me a political emissary and strongly doubted my dervishship, but I paid very little attention to them.