The bazaar was entered by a great door, and its wall formed a third side of the little square, a good, solid wall built of the best brick. The entrance gave on to one side of a long, vaulted passage, each side of which was occupied by shops, and which turned at right angles at short distances from the main doorway.
The plan of the bazaar, designed by Lady Adela, is more that of what we understand by a market. In shape it is exactly square, with an entrance at the middle of each side. An avenue of shops runs round inside the walls, and another passage connects two of the doors, cutting the parallelogram into two equal halves. The shops are raised upon a brick platform, or rather are at a height of two feet from the ground, and have a brick platform of that height before them, upon which the proprietor squats or puts his wares. The shop itself is but a great cupboard, the front of which takes out, being made of panels of wood, or shutters. Within are shelves upon which the goods are stacked, and if the proprietor be a Jew, an iron strong-box in front of the equipment.
There are in the Halabja bazaar fifty-two such shops, and probably twenty of these are occupied by linen-drapers and cloth merchants, chiefly Jews, who are the principal part of the commercial population.
The bazaar, where all the news of the town and district are brought, and whence culled by the curious, had already heard of my arrival, and as I entered in company with Mansur I found myself greeted by Kurd and Jew alike. This cordiality did not, however, extend to business, for to my disgust the Jew upon whom I had purchased my little bills refused to meet them, and I found that the Sulaimania seller had promised to send goods to him for the value of the bills, but being short of money, had drawn the drafts and sold the goods on his own account in Sulaimania. Matti, who had in Sulaimania procured them for me, had fortunately guaranteed them, so I was not more than temporarily inconvenienced, for, as Mansur said, “He who stays with Lady Adela has no need of money.”
It appeared that I was the first Persian they had ever seen in Halabja, and considerable curiosity was evinced as to my native place. Sitting upon a carpet before the shop of the Jewish merchant, a little crowd of interested Kurds and Jews collected, endeavouring with some success to talk to me in Persian, and one and all descanting upon the beauties of Halabja, utterly refusing to believe that the Shiraz whence I came could be larger or finer, or that Kurdish was not understood there.
Most remarkable was the space Lady Adela took up in their affairs and conversation. She had, in building this bazaar which attracted trade and was a source of profit to merchants, at the same time done the best thing for her own pocket that she could possibly have devised, for she was heavily in debt to the occupants, and had naturally the widest option as to when she should pay. It was reported that she always did pay in the end; and for this reason, and also the excellent reason that makes a tenant submissive to a powerful landlord, no one attempted to limit her purchases, which in cloth and stuffs were really enormous. The prices these Jews charged to her, too, were exorbitant, and they excused themselves for this by an account of the interest lost by delay, much as one’s tailor must do.
LADY ADELA’S RECEPTION
We spent all the morning in the bazaar, and returned for lunch, which appeared about noon. In the afternoon, about the time tea was served—for the Persian invented afternoon tea long before Europe—we went to the divan of Lady Adela. The long room this time was crowded to its fullest. Near the mattress of Lady Adela two others had been put, one for Majid Beg, the Pasha’s eldest son, a man of forty-five or thereabouts, and Tahir Beg, both of whom usually called in the afternoon. The former was already there, a stern Kurd, totally unlike his rakish-looking younger brother. A much bigger man, his grave face was much more of an English cast than any other Kurd I ever saw, though an immense number of them have the features and appearance of the Saxon races.
Blue eyes, a fair complexion, short, straight nose, stubbly moustache and square chin, were the facial features one noticed at once; and he sat, hand upon hip, making no remark to anyone, occasionally nodding in reply to something Lady Adela said. All the Jaf chiefs have this characteristic of silence, and will sit for hours sometimes without uttering a syllable. Round the room, squatting against the wall, were all sorts and kinds of Kurds. Natives of Halabja and the district were there; two stray Hamavands, on goodness knows what business, sat there silent and awkward, dark-featured, wild-looking men, who kept their rifles in their hands and their alert eyes ever on the glance this way and that, from sheer force of habit. A black-browed priest from Pava, a village in Persian Kurdistan, three peasants from Sina, and various merchants, went to make up a collection of all sorts of southern Kurds. Every one, even to the shopkeepers and the priest, carried the large Kurdish dagger. Menservants stood about round the door and by their mistress and master, and a stack of guns in the corner represented the property of a number of the assembly. Outside the room in the verandah the overflow pressed their noses against the glass doors and occasionally shouted remarks, often enough in answer to Lady Adela’s comments. Rakish-looking handmaids in flowing robes and turbans set askew, stood about, or brought cigarettes, fanned Lady Adela—for the room and the day were warm—or fetched scissors and tape for the silk cloth she was inspecting. A Jew of the bazaar was displaying to her his wares, taking huge orders for all kinds of stuffs, and squatted before her, making notes in Hebrew on a dirty scrap of paper. The maids advised, criticised, and chose cloth and stuff for themselves, which Lady Adela would promptly refuse, or occasionally grant them, for she treated them remarkably well. The audience made remarks upon the proceedings, often enough chaffing Lady Adela regarding her purchases, when she would retort in quick Kurdish with the best humour, everyone joining in the laugh which not infrequently was against her. A shopkeeper arrived with a bill long overdue, and she endorsed it on the back, making him the owner of a quantity of wheat when the harvest should be in, for she possessed no hard cash, or professed to own none. While she yet measured silk, two riders still in their scarlet riding-boots, rifle on shoulder, stumped in, leading between them a wretched Arab tribesman, clad in the traditional raiment, the single shirt that has gained for the Arab the nickname “Trouserless” from Kurd and Turk. His head was bare, for he had lost his “kefia” and “agal,” and he shrank and shivered as he was thrust forward into the assembly. Never had he seen so wild and fierce-looking a gathering. Even Lady Adela, in her bright garments, her eyes flashing from under a big turban with hanging tassels, set askew, had the barbaric and ferocious Kurdish appearance of the stories, and the sight of so many of these big-boned, armed men cowed the miserable Arab, used only to ragged creatures like himself. Nor was his discomfort at all eased by the laughter that greeted his appearance. His guards, too, seemed to regard the affair as a joke.
A CULPRIT