ON THE ROAD
Soon after noon a move was made to leave again, and, as is so often the case, when one beast had been loaded everyone else displayed the utmost activity in the hope of being away first. Half the caravan and more, having got ready, left, but took a path along the hill-side, which would lead them through a break in the range later. We, however, with a few others, made a line straight for the hills, and were soon among them, passing through some fine valleys where plentiful streams ran swift and strong. In one of these a camel caravan was camped, the camel-men being at first invisible, till feet were seen protruding from between pairs of bales arched over with a cloth, forming a kennel in which the Arab camel-men retired during the day. These caravans travel very slowly and by short stages, and stop whereever there is thorn for the camels, never putting up at a village. They are thus always met with in deserted places, and, as the Arabs are unpopular with the Kurds, and vice versa, one of the former may pass from Bagdad to Kirkuk and Sulaimania without ever seeing a Kurd at close quarters, or ever exchanging a word with him.
The range, as seen from the Bazian, where it forms a high sky-line, appears to be but a single ridge of hills, but it took us five hours to get clear of it. The track was ever on an up-grade; one ascended through valleys and over ridges to the very top, where there was a fine view. Looking back, Kurdistan and its mountains stood up high; and forward, the vast Tigris plain stretched away, unbroken, except for the low ranges towards Altun Keupri, and the single mountain that stands up due west of Kirkuk, which we could see yellow in the afternoon sun, at a great distance.
Around us the hills of the range, a wonderful red and yellow, earth and stones twisted into queer shapes, stretched away on either side, and below; and after half an hour of level mountain-top, we began the descent. Darkness overtook while yet we were in the mountain, and as there was no moon, the going was retarded, for the shadows of the hills made the darkness yet more sombre.
Our caravan was now very small, as many of the others had taken other tracks through the hills, and we pushed forward as fast as possible to get into Kirkuk before midnight, when the gate would be closed against passengers, and a long detour would have to be made to get into the town by another entrance. All the way across the plain we were descending, by steps in the plain formed of rocky outcrop, very bad going for the mules, and as we approached the town it grew warmer and warmer.
About midnight, having been ten hours on the march, we passed the gate, and turned into the long street of Kirkuk, a full mile from end to end. I had a letter to one Salim, a Mosul Christian, and to his business caravanserai we proceeded. Our way took us through the silent-domed bazaars, and by the light of a single lamp we picked our way under the sombre vaults of the bazaar till we came to the door of the serai, our blows upon whose door resounded through the whole place.
A sleepy guardian opened to us, and after Ahmad Bash Chaush had announced who we were, we had permission to pass in. In the dark I could not see what kind of a place it was, except that it was an ordinary business caravanserai, but without any cloisters round it, on the ground floor. Instead there was an upper storey, the rooms of which stood back from the level of the wall, making a verandah all round the serai-yard.
There came from above a small man in the slack garments of night, a handkerchief about his head. He introduced himself as Khaja Salim, and hearing that I was recommended to him, showed me a bench on the upper floor where I might sleep, and where, without further talk, I soon lay upon the hard boards in sound slumber.
In the morning I had my effects brought up and disposed in an empty room, and proceeded to the coffee-house for a cup of tea. Here I met Salim, and joined him in a cup of hot sweetened milk, which it is the custom to take early in the morning in these parts. I returned with him to his office, a little room, where he—more advanced than his co-religionists in Sulaimania—sat upon a chair behind a table. I did not care for the looks of the man. He was a tiny fellow, rather fat and pale, and with a very sharp and shifty look. However, he was polite enough and welcomed me to Kirkuk, asking my nationality. I told him I was English, and he made no remark, except to ask if I had met his neighbours in the caravanserai. As I had not, he took me round to half a dozen rooms like his own, each of which harboured a pair of Mosul merchants. Unlike the Mosuliots of Sulaimania, who were an exceptionally pleasing set of men, the looks of none of these were reassuring, nor was my further experience of them conducive to a better opinion. One of them in particular, a youth who wore European clothes, collar and cuffs complete, was unusually unpleasant in appearance. His eyes were those of the habitual drunkard, and his sloppy mouth and greasy face were quite repellent. This was the son of a very rich merchant of Mosul.
CHRISTIANS OF KIRKUK