From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

Beyond the river we passed through a gap in a ridge of bare hills of naked rock, and at once emerged on the plain of Kandahar by a short descent from the hill skirt. The plain presented a wide hollow extending for many miles from north-east to south-west. Its general aspect was dreary in the extreme by comparison with the mass of villages, and gardens, and corn-fields crowded together about the city at its western extremity. Though yet in the poverty of its winter state, this part of the plain bore a decidedly fertile and flourishing look. On the verge of a desert plain to the north-east stood out the fortified parallelogram of Ahmad Shahí, the city of Kandahar, and to its west in attractive contrast rose the tall rows of dark cypresses, marking the sites of the pleasure gardens of its former brother chiefs. South of these lay a crowded mass of gardens, fields, and villages down to the banks of the Tarnak, whilst to the north and west the whole was shut in by the rocky heights of Baba Walí and Husen Shahr. Altogether it formed an oasis in the midst of a desert.

At three miles from the city we were met by a numerous and gaily-dressed company, who had come out for our isticbál, or ceremonial reception, with a troop of regular cavalry and a company of infantry. First of all, the cavalry formed a line on each side of our procession to keep off the crowd, whilst the infantry marched in front. We proceeded a little way in this order, when we came to a roadside mound on which were collected the party who had come out to do honour to the General. Here the infantry wheeled round and formed a street up the slope of the mound. General Pollock and our party dismounted, and then the leader of the isticbál, rising from the carpet on which he was seated, stepped forward to meet us, attended by four or five other nobles of the province. The Saggid introduced us to each in succession, and we shook hands all round with Sardár Mír Afzal Khán, Núr Muhammad Khán, Núr Ali Khán, and two others.

Sardár Mír Afzal Khán is a fine specimen of an Afghan noble of the old style. His bearing is courteous and dignified, with a tinge of hauteur. He was very richly dressed, and mounted on a handsome Arab horse with trappings of solid gold. At his side hung a scimitar with a gold embossed handle, and gold ornaments on the scabbard. His head was close shaven and covered with a splendid Kashmir shawl, the folds of which were not so closely adjusted as they might have been, for the motion of his horse more than once caused the headpiece to rock dangerously, as if about to fall. Mír Afzal Khán is about sixty years of age, and wears a short beard dyed red. He has sharp Jewish features, and a very prominent nose, and is said to bear a strong resemblance to the late Amir Dost Muhammad Khán. He is a son of the late Sardár Púrdil Khán, one of the many sons of the celebrated Páyandah Khán (who was executed at Kandahar in 1806 by Sháh Zamán), by a Durrani mother. Dost Muhammad was another son of Páyandah Khán by a Juwansher Cazilbash mother. Páyandah Khán was a Bárakzai of the Muhammadzai branch, and was the first who raised the Bárakzai tribe to the distinction and influence they have since his death enjoyed. He left a great many children, but twenty-two of his sons acquired notoriety by the parts they enacted in the political revolutions that convulsed the country on the death of Sháh Tymúr, the son and successor of Sháh Ahmad, the founder of the independent Afghan nationality. Of these, Fath Khán, whose mother was a Bárakzai, was for many years the most important and powerful chief in the country, and thrice placed Tymúr’s son Mahmúd on the throne at Kabul, against his brothers Zamán and Shuja. He was inhumanly butchered in 1818 by Kamrán the son of Mahmúd, and then his brothers all divided the country between them, and Dost Muhammad became Amir of Kabul. He was succeeded in 1863 by his son Sher Ali Khán, the present Amir. Sardár Mír Afzal Khán is consequently a cousin of the present Amir, and he is also his son-in-law, his daughter being Sher Ali’s favourite wife, and the mother of the heir-apparent, Abdullah Ján. He has for many years past been governor of Furrah, and has been a stanch supporter of the Amir’s cause during all his adversities, and was wounded in the arm by gunshot at the battle fought at Kajbáz, near Caláti Ghizli, by the Amir against his rebel brother, Sardár Muhammad Amin, on 6th June 1865.

The Saggid was present in the fight, and described it to us only yesterday. It appears that both armies came into action suddenly, and by surprise. The Amir’s eldest son, Muhammad Ali, was killed by a cannon-shot, and his uncle, Muhammad Amin, pushing forward to take advantage of the confusion thus produced, was hit in the head by a rifle-bullet and killed at once. Mír Afzal Khán is now looked on as the most influential chief in the country, and his coming out in person to meet and do honour to the representative of the British Government is considered a mark of sincere good-will on the part of the Amir’s Government.

But to return from this digression to our procession to Kandahar. After a hurried interchange of salutations we mounted our horses, and, in company with a brilliant crowd of cavaliers, proceeded towards the city. The cortége numbered about a hundred and fifty of the nobility and gentry of the province, and gave us a good idea of the chivalry of Kandahar. A better-mounted and more picturesque body of men I have never seen. The variety of costume and colour, the easy independence of the men, their courteous yet self-confident bearing, and the variety of their arms, formed an interesting spectacle, of which no description I can give will convey a proper idea. Some wore rich velvets or bright-coloured broadcloths, cut to the national pattern; others wore the national dress made of the finest kinds of home material, and a few there were who had adopted a semi-European style of costume, an ill-judged mixture, which did not show to advantage amongst the handsomer and more costly native costumes. Next to the riders, the horses attracted our attention. They were all uncommonly well mounted. The quality of the horse with most seemed to be a greater object of solicitude than either that of their dress or their arms. The favourite weapon was a dagger stuck sideways in the folds of the waistband; but many wore a sword hung at the side, and some carried an English rifle or a native matchlock slung over the shoulder or across the back.

At first starting there was a slight confusion, owing to the eagerness of all parties to occupy the foremost ranks; but our troop of regular cavalry, forming a line on each side of our party, kept the crowd from pressing too closely upon us, whilst the company of infantry, marching ahead, kept the road clear.

Our path led across a succession of corn-fields and kárez streams, and passing between the villages of Dih Khojah and Hodera, took us round by the Bardurrani gate to the north side of the city. We proceeded along this, past the Hazrat-jí shrine and the city cemetery, and then turning down the other side, turned off from the Topkhana gate, and crossing the pátáo canals, entered the road leading from the Herat gate westward to the garden of Rahmdil Khán. When I was here in 1857-58, with Lumsden’s mission to the court of the heir-apparent, the late Sardár Ghulám Hydar Khán, this road was adorned by an avenue of tall poplar-trees. I now missed them, and inquiring the cause of their disappearance, was told that they had been, one by one, cut down, and used as fuel by the townspeople during the troublous times following on the death of Dost Muhammad.

As we proceeded we found the latter half of the road, this erst avenue, was lined by a large body of troops, and behind them, in a field to the left, was drawn up a half battery of artillery. The troops comprised nearly the whole of the Kandahar garrison, and were paraded in the following order:—First, a regiment of regular cavalry, of which a troop was on duty with our party, next three regiments of regular infantry (two of Kabulis and one of Kandaharis), and lastly, a small body of Kandahar militia. The men were not as fine a body as I had expected to see, judging from the company that had escorted us from Peshín. These men belonged to one of the Kabul regiments, and had evidently been picked for the duty, for the purpose of making an impression. Their colonel, Táj Muhammad, Ghilzai, had come down with the Saggid to meet us at the Calát border, and was evidently proud of his men, and somewhat enthusiastically used to try and persuade us that all the Kabul army were just as fine, if not superior fellows.