Amir Abdur Rahman never favoured me with any remarks which would throw a light on his apparently culpable neglect in working the rich mines of his country. Instead, he often mentioned the benefit to his country which the working of these mines would occasion, and soon after my appointment he gave me written orders to build the necessary works for smelting the copper ores which have been found in the neighbourhood of Kabul. When the work was about half completed, however, he sent instructions to me to postpone work on it until further orders, and thereafter let the matter rest in abeyance, so that the work still remains uncompleted. He avoided any mention to me of his reason for stopping a work on which he had been so keen to begin, and it can only be supposed that he was fearful of adding an incentive to interference with his country on the part of his neighbours by showing the riches it contained.
Amir Habibullah, who follows his father’s policy in all things, has done nothing towards developing the resources of the country beyond ascertaining the position and value of its various mineral deposits. Amir Habibullah is, however, desirous of obtaining a strip of country from the west of Afghanistan to the coast on the Beloochistan side, in order to obtain a seaboard which would enable him to deal direct with other countries and obviate the necessity of going through the territories of his neighbours—permission for which depends always on their goodwill. With such a seaboard they would be independent, could develop the country, and sell the produce of their mines and other exports direct, and with the proceeds of such trade could import whatever war material or other goods they required, and strengthen themselves without the knowledge of or interference from their neighbours.
The Afghan rulers have spies and others in India as well as in European countries who give them information on all subjects which affect Afghanistan either directly or indirectly, and the Amir and his intimates take the utmost interest in the doings of those who rule the destinies of other nations, and they watch all that goes on between the different powers. But, excepting these few in authority, the people are shut off from news of the outer world, for there are no newspapers in the country, and the newspapers of other countries they are unable to read; and as their Government objects to foreigners entering the country and allows none such to do so except on business, and then only by special permission from the Amir, and as very few of their own people are allowed to travel on business across the border, the bulk of the Afghans are ignorant of everything except that which happens within their own limited sphere.
The Afghan rulers also in their conduct of the internal affairs of the country make a point of keeping it secluded and out of touch with the other countries around them, and British officers who have crossed the border either knowingly or otherwise, have been made prisoners and kept so until the Amir’s orders were received. The intercourse of the people with other nations would no doubt tend to civilize them, and by broadening their views do away with much of their present fanatical prejudice against all other people, which is due principally to the secluded life they are forced to lead, practically cut off from the rest of the world. It is this thought which directs the policy of seclusion of their rulers, for they make a practice of working upon the ignorance and religious superstition of the people to influence them in any required direction.
CHAPTER XVIII
ROAD FROM KABUL TO PESHAWAR
Difficulty of getting permission to enter Afghanistan and to leave it—Description of country passed through—Camping-places on way down and distances—Description of Jelalabad city—Usbeg horseback game of Buz-bazee—Kabul river at Jelalabad and beyond—The musak—Summer heat—The last day’s journey.
After several years spent in Kabul, one experiences a sense of elation when the time comes for leaving it. The thought of being back soon in civilization, among one’s friends and the people of one’s own country, produces so keen a desire to be with them again at once that the time occupied in making ready to start, and that spent on the journey, seems interminable. When in Kabul there is a remoteness in the thought of home and England so great that the memory seems to deal with the land and people of another planet, and if one were a Buddhist it might easily be conceived that the memory dealt with a former incarnation, for one is so cut off from the outer world, and all things are so different, that it appears like a separate existence.
Afghanistan is a difficult country to get into, for not only is the Amir’s written permission necessary, but the Indian Government must consent also, for no European is allowed to go through the Khyber Pass and cross the frontier without a permit, and that is only granted on producing the Amir’s firman; and even then one is not allowed to start until the Afghans across the frontier have been communicated with and the escort arranged to meet the traveller on a certain day. It is also difficult to leave it, for the Amir is chary of giving leave to those who have spent some time in the country. I was there for over eight years without a break, and although I repeatedly asked for leave I was always put off on one pretext or another. When permission to leave has been given there always occurs another two or three weeks’ delay in getting together the pack-horses required for carrying luggage, and the escort of sowars (cavalry) necessary for protection on the journey, and the tents and carpets, etc. With a desire to start as soon as ever possible, the casual to-morrow-or-next-day habit of the people, to which one has got accustomed more or less, becomes of a sudden a prominent characteristic, and proportionately irritating. But as all things come to those who wait, provided they wait long enough, everything is at last ready, and one morning all the boxes and packages are fastened on the backs of the pack-animals, the servants are seated on those horses which carry the lightest loads, and the baggage is got off, and an hour or two later one mounts and starts off one’s self.
It is an eight days’ journey from Kabul to Peshawar if long marches are undertaken each day, but the people who travel up and down that way usually take eleven or twelve days. I have done it in six days, but to do it in this time all the riding and pack-horses must be of the best, for the mountainous country traversed, and rough stony character of the tracks (there are no roads excepting round Kabul itself), make it very trying for the horses, and on a very long day’s march some will drop from fatigue, and cases of horses dying on the road are not at all uncommon.