The funeral feast begins immediately after the burial with a simple repast, at which the iyis (bread baked in fat) is distributed among rich and poor, and must be eaten by everybody. The feast is repeated on the third, seventh, and fortieth day after the death took place, besides which the anniversary is celebrated in like manner,—a duty which even the poorest would not omit to perform, for fear lest, by neglecting it, the departed might appear to them at night, and, exhorting the survivors, complain that they had forgotten to invite those of this world who are to pray for the welfare of his soul.
Among the nomads, the funeral feast occupies a more important part. Once every week, throughout the first year, a repast is prepared on the day of the death, and daily, as mentioned already in our "Travels among the Turkomans," the women sing the song of lamentation at the hour in which the member of the family breathed his last. With the latter, moreover, the memory of a dead person is held in the highest regard, and peculiar respect is paid to his grave for a long time after, if he has fallen in battle, or on some marauding expedition. The shaft of his lance is planted upon it, and decked with various-coloured pieces of stuff, ram's horns, a horse's tail, or like mementos,—friends and members of the same tribe contributing, as a matter of course, every time they pass it. The "yoskas" are called by the name of those that repose beneath; children play around, but, however playfully inclined, are careful not to climb upon them. It is even said, that horses go to visit the yoskas of their former masters, and are seen standing before them, with heads bent downward in mourning; and young warriors habitually look with veneration on these mounds, and draw from them the inspiration to their greatest deeds of valour.
Whenever we happened to meet one of these graves in our travels in the steppes of Central Asia, each member of our caravan was obliged to tear off a little piece of his clothes and fasten it to the shaft, or to a bench, or all joined in a hymn sung in his praise, Karavan bashi saying every time: "He who does not honour the dead will never receive honour from the living."
CHAPTER VIII.
HOUSE, FOOD, AND DRESS.
The house, or fixed dwelling, has never, up to the present day, gained a firm footing among the nations in Central Asia, not even in those parts where regular settlements have existed for several hundred years. Part of the population build houses for themselves, but they are generally looked upon as gloomy places, producing feelings of melancholy, and the light, airy tent is in all cases preferred. It is principally the Œzbeg people who build houses, an art they have learnt from the original Persian settlers, and, as they resemble in many points the inhabitants of Iran, the architecture in Central Asia is in the early Iranic style, and at the same time very similar to the new Persian.
The first thing before building a house, is to level and prepare the ground by stamping it down with a heavy pounder. Foundations are only made to large buildings. The common-sized houses are made with a mud flooring, two feet high, and upon this, after it has dried hard, the walls are raised with a layer of rushes or wood underneath, in order to keep them from the damp rising from the ground. The walls are either "tam," i.e., of clay or stone, or "akchub," i.e., of wooden laths, laid crossways, and the interstices filled up with clay and unbaked tiles. The ceiling consists of planks, closely fitting together; in the houses of the poor these are left bare, and in those of the rich they have a coating of plaster and lime. Small holes serve as windows; they are open in summer, and in winter are pasted over with oiled paper. The roof, similar to those in Persia, is like a terrace, and serves as a sleeping place during the heat of the summer. Regular bricklayers are seldom met with. Every man is his own architect, convinced of possessing sufficient knowledge to build for himself a house suitable to his wants; and the plumb-line being still unknown, it is not to be wondered at that the walls are crooked and uneven, bulging either in or out, and soon become dilapidated.
The interior arrangement of a house is as follows: you enter by a wide gate, which forms the chief entrance, into a covered passage, called dalar. To the right of the gate are one or two rather large apartments (mihmankhane), which serve as reception-rooms for guests, and contain weapons as well as useful domestic utensils. Next to these are two small rooms, used as store-rooms. To the left are the stable and the shed for the carts and trucks, whilst a small door at the back of the dalar, opposite the entrance, leads to the inner apartments or harem. These are for the most part ayvans, that is, rooms which are open on one or two sides, and generally look out upon a garden. In towns they are used as favourite summer apartments, and it is really pleasant to live in them, especially during the night, with a peshekhane, a square tent made of gauze, like mosquito-nets, over one's bed, as a protection against catching cold, which is as dangerous in Central Asia as it is in Persia. In the country the dwellings are scattered. The farmstead (havli), which consists of several different parts, is always surrounded with a high wall for protection, and looks like a small fortress. The interior is very roomy; on one side are the buildings, always lower than the wall, on the other the tents, the fixed dwellings being set apart here also exclusively for animals and store-rooms. Sometimes the inner space is so large that a small kitchen-garden has found room within it. Outside, but near the walls, is a large reservoir, the edges of which are bordered with plantains, and afford a most agreeable resting-place. These trees flourish admirably in this part of Asia, where they are found of an astonishing height and breadth, and reach the great age of from 300 to 400 years. On hot summer days they afford the most refreshing shade, and for hours the Œzbeg is seen sleeping beneath the spreading branches. Not only does the thick foliage protect him from the burning rays, but the breeze, which always blows under the plantains, drives away tormenting insects.