Under the absolute Amir

by Frank A. Martin

When the valley of Kabul has been left behind the country appears very desolate, for there is nothing but mountains, rocks, and sand to be seen. The second day’s journey takes one over the Latabund Pass which lies at a considerable altitude above Kabul, which is itself seven thousand feet above sea-level, and the rest of the journey until Jelalabad is reached is all over mountains. Camp for the night is pitched near small villages set in valleys where a little water makes the cultivation of a few patches of sandy soil possible. It is the very small amount of rainfall which makes the country so barren generally for the disintegrated rock which collects in the valleys, and the foot of the mountains forms a prolific soil when it can be irrigated, and it is also the want of verdure and trees on the mountains, and absence of clouds with their accompanying haze of moisture, which is the cause of the monotonous colouring of the landscape, for there are many fine mountain scenes which would be magnificent, but for the dryness of the atmosphere which makes the hills and mountains, far and near, shades of one dirty looking colour. At the beginning of a day’s march, the sameness of the prospect makes one almost sigh at the dreary stretch of country to be ridden over, for it offers nothing of interest to lessen the sense of fatigue, and the only desire while riding is to get it done with, and look forward to the camping-place.

The usual stopping-places between Kabul and Jelalabad, which is about halfway to Peshawar, are Budkhark, twelve miles; Barikab, thirty-two miles; Jagdalak, sixteen miles; Gandamak, twenty-eight miles; Fatehabad, eighteen miles; and Jelalabad, nineteen miles. These distances are only approximate, for they are estimated from the time occupied in riding from one to the other. There are other places at which one may camp for the night if necessary, according to the number of days in which it is desired to make the journey; but the above are best if one wishes to make each day’s journey equal in fatigue for the horses and pack-animals. The shorter marches are over bad mountain tracts, which tire the horses quite as much as a longer journey over fairly level country. The sixth day’s journey to Jelalabad is over ground which slopes down gradually from the foot hills, but almost the whole of it is through sand mixed with small stones in which the horses’ feet sink deeply, and makes the going hard and tiring. Those who have walked any distance in dry sand by the seashore will appreciate the fatigue of the horses in getting over such country.

When I left Kabul snow was falling, and had been doing so for the past two days, and the mountains and plains were covered with it, and to make matters worse a blizzard was blowing. The coldness of a blizzard must be experienced to be appreciated, and I heard afterwards that two or three soldiers on night-guard had been frozen to death; but this is a common occurrence during the severe winters experienced in Kabul, when the wind gains in piercing intensity as the cold increases during the night.

THE SERAI AT JAGDALAK, ON THE ROAD FROM KABUL TO PESHAWAR.

[To face p. 312.

After riding through the snow for some hours, with limbs stiffened and senses benumbed by the icy wind, it was with a feeling of thankfulness that I saw the walls of the serai, showing through the driving snow; and when we reached the place and dismounted, I found that the circulation in my right hand had stopped, and it was only after having it rubbed for some time that it got right again. The serais, which are stationed at intervals along the route, are intended for the use of the caravans, and they are made in the form of a square, with a high wall surrounding it, and the rooms are built against the inner side of the wall. There is a verandah outside the rooms, under which the packages carried by the caravans are stored for the night in bad weather, and which also forms a shelter for the camels and pack-animals. Over the gate of the serai, in which we lodged for the first night, was an upper room, built for the use of travellers of position and standing, and this was placed at my disposal; but as regards its comforts, I can only say that it was better than being outside. One of the lower rooms which are used by the men of the caravans travelling up and down would have been warmer, but they are filthy, and mostly contain a vigorous population undesirable to those of clean habits; and the room I occupied was fairly clean, but it was unfurnished, and had no fireplace, while the window was composed of wooden shutters, and round the frame were cracks an inch wide, where the wood had shrunk away from the wall and left open spaces, and in the wall itself were large cracks, due probably to earthquakes, through which the wind whistled; so while waiting for the baggage to come up, I had an open fire lighted on the top of the verandah outside, and warmed myself one side at a time. It was not until night had fallen that the baggage animals came in, and I was able to get a cup of hot tea, and an hour or two later I got some food, and it was rather a dreary time waiting for it, when tired and hungry, and the thermometer below zero. To undress and go to sleep with the blizzard blowing in at all the cracks in wall and window was not to be thought of, so I took off my boots only and lay down, covering myself with all the rugs I had; and in the morning when I woke, I found that the water in the wash-basin was frozen solid, and fine drift snow covered the floor and bed.

The morning was clear and bright, and the dazzling whiteness of the snow in the sunlight was blinding, until the eyes became a little used to it; but the wind continued in all its severity, and while riding over the Latabund Pass, we found it far too cold at that altitude to sit in the saddle with comfort, for our hands and feet became so numbed and useless that we feared frostbite, and therefore the escort and myself dismounted and walked, in order to keep ourselves warm, and led our horses, until about two o’clock in the afternoon, we reached the summit. Once on the other side of the pass, we were protected from the wind, but I thought it still too cold to ride, and so walked on the rest of the way to Barikab, where I reached camp at six in the evening, very tired with a long day’s walk. The pack animals, which are too heavily laden to take the short cuts over the mountains that the riding horses follow, did not reach camp until nine o’clock, so that it was again very late before I got my dinner, and by the time I got it I wanted it.

Thence to Jelalabad, as each successive range of mountains brought us still lower down it got warmer day by day, but the warmth was comparative only, for it was still very cold when we reached Jelalabad. Here I spent a day, having a day extra in hand in which to reach the Khyber Pass, which is open for travellers twice a week only, and occupied myself in looking over the city and inspecting the Amir’s palace and gardens there. The city is a small one, and is walled round, as usual, but the wall is broken down in places, and everything has a most dilapidated look, and many parts are in ruins. There is no attempt to keep the city clean, and the inhabitants of each house make their own sanitary arrangements, which practically means none at all, as each one throws the refuse of the house outside to lie there and rot, if not eaten up by the dogs and crows. The water of the place stinks, and it is not at all surprising that when cholera visits it, being brought up from India with the caravans, it makes a long and effective stay. One wonders that it does not wipe off the whole of the population, but the dry climate and frequent winds, no doubt, help towards the sanitary condition of the city, and perhaps long-continued successive visits of cholera have made many of the people immune.