To Mesopotamia and Kurdistan in disguise

by Ely Banister Soane

The good man seemed so hurt in thus explaining himself, and it was so extremely ill-bred on my part to refuse and slight a man who did so much for me, that I speedily denied this bigotry, and dipped my hand into the dish with him, to his considerable satisfaction.

After this he would have had me dine every night with him, and was extremely difficult to refuse, but it would not have been politic for a Muslim, even though a Shi’a and no follower of the tenets of the Sunni Kurds, to become known as one who fed with Christians, and I restricted myself to feeding once a week with them. The Kurds have no scruples, for the caravanserai keeper, one Hama, a native of Aoraman, a bovine creature who served the Christians very faithfully, had the habit of consuming the considerable residue of their great meals.

I was surprised at first at the enormous quantities they ate at dinner. At sundown the caravanserai would be closed, and benches placed round a patch of garden they had made in the courtyard. On the benches, cushions and thick mattresses were arranged, and here Matti, Antoine, and Habib, the seniors, took their places, divesting themselves of their heavy turbans and loosening their waistbelts. They were usually joined here by a Bagdad Jew, a great handsome fellow, who kept everyone in a good humour by his jokes. Then the cry would go out, “Jib ul piala,” and the younger brothers would bring forth each a little glass bottle, wrapped about with a damp napkin to keep the contents cool. As darkness fell, the same younger brothers, who performed the menial jobs, spread a carpet upon the courtyard floor and a coloured table-cloth upon it. As soon as the eatables had been turned out upon dishes the elder brothers left their couches, and squatting round the dishes, all set to work in the earnest fashion typical of Eastern diners, saying little till the meal was finished. The quantities of meat these Christians ate excited my wonder, and caused me to remark upon the fact to them. Habib, who always professed a knowledge of European thought and ideas, rather scorned me, for he accused me of having appropriated the European fallacy that unless a man took exercise he should not eat much meat, and he pointed out the futility of the argument by drawing attention to his and Matti’s excellent health and condition.

CHALDEAN HABITS

Dinner was finished half an hour after sunset, and after a short interlude of conversation most of the company would sleep, to rise with the sun in the morning. One or two nights I slept there on one of the courtyard benches, but the sandflies were so numerous that I preferred my own roof, where there was usually a cool breeze.

One morning I was seated in my little upper room, upon my carpet, writing, when the courtyard door was thrown open and Mustafa Beg, accompanied by half a dozen Kurds, entered, and at my invitation ascended.

They all came crowding into the little room, and Mustafa Beg invited a youth to the highest place. The others took places anywhere, and two stood at the doorway, being servants. The old man introduced the lad as Sayyid Nuri, son of Shaikh Ahmad, a prominent member of the hated family of Shaikhs. Now, in Sulaimania a man who has escaped the notice of this family thanks Heaven, and prays for continued freedom from their acquaintance. Equally the day is accursed that one of the family discovers the unfortunate. It had been the boast of the quarter, too, that up to the present no shaikh had set his foot in its streets, for it was a respectable business quarter, well guarded, and too alert to be surprised by the night attacks of the shaikhs’ roughs and robbers. Well did I know that the advent of Sayyid Nuri here would disturb the peace of the “mahalla” and make myself unpopular, for none were distrusted more than those whom the shaikhs treated in a friendly manner.

Sayyid Nuri himself was a mean but sharp-looking youth, a type of the mixture of Turkoman and Kurd that is found in Sulaimania, for he had the bravado look of the latter and the scanty moustache and long, wavy nose of a certain section of the former. He rustled in silk, and wore fine cotton socks. In his belt was stuck a huge knife, and a revolver dangled in its case from under his zouave jacket. Still, for all his unprepossessing appearance, for a member of the family from whom arrogance and all that is objectionable was to be expected, he was very polite.

Mustafa Beg seemed to think that, in bringing him there he had done me a great service, and sat beaming upon both of us, and listening to the Kurdish around him. The lad spoke excellent Turkish, for, as he explained, the family had plenty of dealings with the Turks. When he found that Mustafa Beg had not been wrong in describing me as a Persian, he was delighted, for all he desired to do was to air his knowledge of that language, which was not excessive.

From the first, however, he could not control his inquisitive nature, which led him to handle everything and turn over the most obvious things with a query as to their use. From somewhere he had heard that I was a doctor, and as ill-luck would have it, I had arranged in the room—which I had fondly imagined to be private—a row of nine or ten small bottles, containing a few medicines I had accumulated on my passage from Constantinople. These he saw at once, and reaching up, pulled them down one by one, examining and smelling them, and with the inspection of each, grew more convinced that my denials were but lies, and that I could cure as well as another. Mustafa Beg, however, came in here to my rescue, by asserting that he knew me not to be a doctor, although I possessed some knowledge of the science. This hardly satisfied Sayyid Nuri, so he took a couple of purgative pills, and two of calomel that I added, saying that he would try them, and would know afterwards whether I was a doctor by the quality of the purgative!