I was delighted with Chini Bagh (Chinese Garden), as the Consulate was called, the well-planned, airy house being set on low cliffs above the river. The large garden was full of fruit trees in blossom, its most charming feature being a terrace shaded by lofty poplars, from which we had a fine view of the river winding away to our right and could look down upon fields green with spring crops and watch the gaily clad people moving along the network of roads and paths. In fact we were so far above the world that I was sometimes reminded of the “Lady of Shallot” and her magic mirror, the busy life passing below seeming almost like a vision when viewed from this post of vantage, where we ourselves were quite unobserved.
Another point that pleased me greatly about our new home was the fact that we could walk on the flat roof of the house, and every now and again, when the air was free of the all-pervading dust, we could enjoy a wonderful mountain panorama. The snow-clad monarchs rose up, peak behind peak, in indescribable grandeur, Kungur, as the natives called it, dominating the whole, and I little thought that a few months later I should be privileged to stand at the foot of these superb mountains and have an unforgettable glimpse of the “vision splendid.” The Russians always insisted that the great dome of Muztagh Ata (Father of the Snows) could be seen from Kashgar, but Captain Deasy definitely settled by his survey work that this mighty giant was hidden by Kungur.
DAOUD AND SATTUR.
Page 41.
However, there was far more prose than poetry in my life at Kashgar, particularly at first, when I was occupied in coping with the details of housekeeping. I laboured under the disadvantage of being unable to speak Russian to the cook, or Turki to the other servants, but fortunately old Jafar Bai, who was entrusted with the purchases of supplies in the bazar, spoke Persian, and as I have a working acquaintance with that language he could act as my interpreter. To counterbalance my lack of tongues I had a fair knowledge of cooking and a good deal of energy, a quality useful in dealing with the slackness of the Oriental, particularly in Mohamedan countries, where a woman is obliged to hold her own, as her sex is of so little account. I speedily discovered that Achmet, a Russian engaged at Tashkent for the high sum of five pounds a month, was hardly a cook at all and could only make two or three soups and prepare the same number of meat dishes; his bread, moreover, was uneatable, and not a single pudding or cake found a place in his repertory! This was bad enough; but his unwillingness to learn, his lack of respect and his ceaseless wrangling with Jafar Bai, whose office he wished to usurp, made housekeeping a tiresome business. Before long it dawned upon me that to pay the wages of a chef and to be forced to do most of the work myself was not good policy, and when I discovered that Achmet had a weakness for alcohol I made up my mind to dispense with his services.
The kitchen-boy left by Lady Macartney had all the qualities that my late cook lacked, and I now entered upon a peaceful existence as far as the kitchen was concerned. Daoud Akhun (David, the Reader of the Koran, as his name implied) was a burly intelligent youth, and speedily grasped my Persian interlarded with Turki words. But he had no claim to his title of Akhun, as he could neither read nor write, and consequently I had to prepare every dish two or three times before he could remember the right quantities and be trusted to make it alone. My little Colonial cookery-book gave all the recipes in cupfuls or spoonfuls, a method that might with advantage be followed in England, as it is a great saving of time and trouble.
Sattur, the butler of the establishment, was a gnome-like little man, perfectly honest, but with the mind of a boy of twelve. The others called him Mulla Sattur, his title, like that of my cook, being due to the fact that his father had been a mulla or priest, though he himself was entirely devoid of education.
He and his underling kept the house fairly well when looked after, but Orientals are incurably slack according to Western ideas, and it was a constant struggle to maintain a very moderate standard of cleanliness and order. At first I tried to teach him to sweep the painted floors by means of a damp cloth tied over a broom, instead of whisking the dust from one place to another; but he nearly wept, saying at intervals, “Not good, not good,” so averse was he to innovations. As a waiter he had a tiresome habit of stretching his arm across us when serving food or drink, and he had a constitutional inability to put on the lid of a biscuit-tin or close a door. It was a proud moment when, after many a reprimand, he knocked at my bedroom door instead of bursting in without notice! Apart from these small failings he was very likeable, most conscientious, and somewhat resembling a dog in his desire for praise if he did anything well.
With all his virtues, he, on one occasion, nearly caused a disaster, as the following anecdote will show. Some years before our arrival, a British officer was in temporary charge of the Consulate, and as he was a bachelor the servants soon took advantage of the fact that there was no mistress. One day he found them going off to their respective homes laden with provisions from his store-room, and in righteous wrath he dismissed every one save Sattur, who had not joined in the depredations. The little fellow then united in his person the offices of cook, butler and housemaid, and apparently did so well that his master was emboldened to give a tea-party. The guests arrived, but the pièce de résistance in the shape of rock-cakes was so long in appearing that the amateur cook was summoned. Sattur then explained with some perturbation that he was sure something was wrong with the baking-powder, because, although he had mixed in a double quantity with the flour, the buns utterly refused to rise. The captain demanded to see this curious baking-powder, and he and his guests had a shock when he discovered that it was the arsenic which he kept to cure the skins of the animals and birds that he shot!