The Vali speedily settled upon a line of proceeding that should not place him in conflict with those he could not subdue, and that might at the same time result in pecuniary profit to himself. While yet at Chemchemal, a station on the western border of the Hamavand country, he succeeded in communicating to the shaikhs his idea of “strict and impartial investigation and report.”
As is the custom, the population of Sulaimania rode out some distance to meet and greet him, and in that meeting the merchants realised that their hopes were useless. The two parties, shaikhs and merchants, had ridden out, and encountered the approaching Vali near the river which crosses the Surchina valley. The shaikhs, spurring forward, were received with the politest of greetings, the most solicitous enquiries; and the Vali, joining their party, rode ahead with them at a canter, passing and ignoring the waiting merchants.
Within twenty-four hours a summons had been issued to all of the merchant class, demanding their presence at the Serai, or Government House, to answer why they had caused so much trouble and strife in the province by their attitude of opposition to the bereaved and mourning shaikhs. Despite this peremptory message, couched in the most abrupt terms of the naturally uncouth Turkish language, these Kurds displayed a little of their native courage, and refused to reply to charges so basely unjust, or even acknowledge the existence of so corrupt an official by coming near his residence.
This afforded the Vali the opportunity he awaited. He now reported that he had called a conference to discuss the matters of the province, to be composed of merchants on one side, and shaikhs upon the other, at which each might state their grievances and produce evidence. The shaikhs had duly appeared, but as the merchants had refused to come, he could but assume them to be the guilty parties, the instigators of rebellion, the malcontents and malignants, now too ashamed to even attempt to justify their backslidings. The priests had, on the contrary, appeared, and laid before him well-substantiated complaints against the merchants, and provided him with evidence implicating them in the murder of the venerated Shaikh Sa’id.
Having pocketed a large sum,[53] the Vali bid farewell to the Sulaimania and returned to Mosul, satisfied with himself and the shaikhs, and leaving them in undisputed possession of right and might.
A new governor was sent, not a creature of the Vali, with a staff and a new commissioner of police. These were bought immediately upon their arrival. The few troops allotted to Sulaimania were distributed as usual along the frontier guard-houses, and at Panjwin, Bistan, Gulambar, and Halabja, leaving not more than one hundred and fifty undisciplined ruffians and natives of the Kifri and Kirkuk district—Turkoman and mongrel Kurd. The situation grew worse. Now the Hamavands were called up to the gates of Sulaimania, and threats of instant sacking kept the population subservient to the will of the shaikhs. The Majlis at Constantinople had now become a more recognised institution, and at least possessed enough power to control the appointment of Vali of Mosul and Mutasarrif of Sulaimania. Moreover, Sultan Abdul Hamid’s days as ruler were coming to an end, and the shaikhs knew it. Izzat Pasha was in exile in Cairo, and Shaikh Qadir at Constantinople, in disrepute. So the shaikhs opened a campaign against Government. The efforts of the Hamavands were directed against authority in the shape of the army. Here and there small bodies of soldiers were cut to pieces and their arms taken. The roads from Kirkuk to Bagdad, Kirkuk to Sulaimania, and Sulaimania to Bagdad, were closed entirely; and now Sulaimania, already impoverished, shut half its bazaars for want of goods to put in them, and the few merchants who still had the courage to keep their offices open sat in empty rooms and idleness. Then the talk of “ta’qib” (pursuit and punishment) of the Hamavands arose, and we have seen how it was carried out. Corruption everywhere thwarted the best designs of the Majlis, and the Hamavands got away while the shaikhs sat in Sulaimania unaccused, and still maintaining an attitude of injured righteousness that called for justice.
SULAIMANIA’S RUINED TRADE
This was the position in August 1909, when I left Sulaimania.
At that time the merchants were awaiting the collection of outstanding debts to leave the province, which they saw would never recover from its ruin so long as the shaikh family exists and is allowed its iniquitous power. Trade has deserted Sulaimania to a great extent. Merchants are going to Persia, which in its worst times never tolerated such a situation as this, and where business—decreased and weak—yet finds a way. Now the Customs duty, increased to the figure of fifteen per cent., will assist the ruin of its trade, which is now reduced to the import of produce from Persia, notably gum and carpets. Transit trade will of course continue to a certain extent, but as a great proportion of the business originated with migratory tribes, its transfer to another place is possible.
When I arrived in May 1909, affairs were bad. Our caravan had excited the greatest interest by reason of its having been able to get through from Kirkuk whole, and news was eagerly sought of all who arrived, particularly regarding any possible amelioration of the situation. However, worse was to come, for no other caravans came through.