From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

In the following conversation the Saggid, to his credit be it recorded, spoke most sensibly, and with a freedom from prejudice for which we were not prepared. He lamented the ignorance of his own people, and the jealousy they evinced of our learning anything about their country: “As if,” said he, “you could not send any number of Afghans into it, instructed to bring you whatever information you required regarding it.” He very truly observed that we knew more of the history and topography of his country than the most learned native in it could ever hope to do in their present state of benighted ignorance. As an instance, he mentioned a discussion at which he was present at the Amir’s court shortly before he set out from Kabul to meet us, in which not a single member present could tell the exact locality of Chinaran, of which they knew nothing more than that it was an important fort on the Persian frontier in the time of Sháh Ahmad, but in what part of the frontier nobody could tell.

14th February.—At noon we set out from Rahmdil Khán’s garden, under a salute of fifteen guns from the artillery, drawn up for the purpose outside the gate. Our route led over fields of young corn, burnt yellow by the recent hard frosts, and across a succession of irrigation streams to the village of Chihldukhtarán, beyond which we came to the Chihlzina. We alighted here, and ascended the rock for the sake of the view, which, the weather being fine and clear, was very distinct and extensive over the plain to the eastward and northwestward. In the former direction, the furthest point seen was the snow-topped peak of Súrghar, on the further side of which we were told lies the Abistada lake. To the north-west is the great snowy range of Sháh Macsúd, closing the prospect by a lofty ridge running from north-east to south-west. Beyond it lies the Derawat valley.

On descending we took leave of General Safdar Ali, who returned to Kandahar with a troop of regular cavalry, and proceeded in company with the Saggid and Colonel Táj Muhammad, escorted by a company of regular infantry, and a party of two hundred and fifty irregular horse, fine active fellows, very well mounted, and generally well armed. At a short distance we passed between the villages of Mír Bazár on the left and Gundigán on the right. This last is built on a couple of artificial mounds, and is noteworthy as being the only Shia village of Parsiwans in the whole province. Beyond these the road skirts a ridge of rocky hills to the left, and has the village of Murghán some way off to the right, where flows the river Argandáb. Further on we came to an extensive roadside graveyard, in which the tomb of the celebrated Mír Wais, Ghilzai, forms the most prominent object, as much from the height of its cupola above the more humble tombs around, as from the state of its decay and neglect. Passing these and the adjoining Kohkarán village, we camped a mile beyond on an open gravelly patch between the Kohkarán hill and the river bank, having marched seven miles from Kandahar.

On approaching Kohkarán, the lord of the manor, Sardár Núr Muhammad Khán, came out to meet us, and invited us to his fort for refreshment; but as it stood a little way out of our road, we politely declined, and he accompanied our party into camp, where his servants presently arrived with trays of food of sorts, and amongst the dishes a huge bowl of the national cúrút, which is, I believe, a close relation to the sour kraut of the Germans. Sardár Núr Muhammad Khán is a son of the late Tymúr Culi Khán, own brother of the late Wazír Fath Khán, Bárakzai. He is reputed as being one of the wealthiest of the Afghan nobles, and has always adhered loyally to the cause of the present Amir during the long period of his trials and adversities. During the siege of Herat by the late Amir Dost Muhammad Khán, he was imprisoned and tortured by Shahnawáz Khán (who continued the defence after the death of his father, Sultán Ahmad Khán), on the suspicion of being a secret partisan of the Dost’s. He now told me that he was at the time in command of the Herat garrison, and that God alone preserved his life. On the fall of Herat in May 1863, Shahnawáz fled to the Persians, and became their pensioner at Tahrán. His brother, Sikandar Khán, fled to Turkistan, and took service with the Russians, by whom he was treated with distinction, and sent to St. Petersburg. Another brother, Abdullah Khán, fell into the Amir’s hands, and being a youth of some parts, was sent to reside at Kabul under surveillance.

Sardár Núr Muhammad Khán had accompanied the Amir Sher Ali in all his wanderings, and shared his misfortunes. He spoke in the gloomiest words of the future prospects of his country, and seemed glad to retire from the troubles of public life to the solitude and quiet of his country-seat. He had been here about twenty months, and seldom went beyond his own domain. He came out to meet us with Sardár Mír Afzul Khán’s isticbál from Kandahar, but except on such occasions he seldom even goes to the city.

He is a fine, blunt, and honest Afghan, with prepossessing looks and very hospitable manners. His time is mostly spent in improving his castle, to which he has just added an extensive range of stables for the hundred horses his stud consists of. He is said to possess some of the best Arab, Baloch, and Turkman horses in the country. He was mounted on a beautiful Arab himself, and by his side rode an attendant mounted on a great Turkman of wonderful strength and fleetness, as he proved to us by putting the animal to its full speed across the plain.

He told us that this winter was the severest season known to have occurred during the past twenty years, and, as an instance of its severity, assured us that the black partridges in his vineyards had all been killed by the cold, numbers having been found lying dead upon the snow.

From our camp we have a full view of the Argandáb valley, and the crowd of villages and gardens along the course of its river. Numerous canals are drawn off from its stream for purposes of irrigation, and for the water supply of Kandahar. To the northward the valley extends in a wide upland pasture tract to the foot of the ridge of hills separating it from the adjoining Khákrez valley. The hills have a very barren look, and are crossed by several passes practicable to footmen only.

From Kohkarán we marched eighteen miles, and camped on the roadside between Hanz Maddad Khán and Sang Hissár. At a short distance from camp we crossed a deep irrigation canal, and at once descended a steep clay bank into the bed of the Argandáb river. The channel here is very wide and boulder-strewed, and the river flows through its centre, and there are besides two little streams, one under each bank. The current is strong and stirrup-deep. We found hundreds of wild-fowl and coolan along the pools bordering the river; and I went off with Colonel Táj Muhammad and shot a few teal and purse-necks. The coolan were much too vigilant to allow us to get within range. During the hot-weather rains, this river swells into a raging torrent, and is quite impassable for three or four days together. The farther bank of the river is low, and lined by an irrigation canal similar to that on the other bank.

Beyond the river, the road passes through a wide extent of corn-fields and villages, known collectively as Sanzari, and bounding them to the southward is a ridge of hills called Takhti Sanzari, on which we could trace indistinctly the remains of ancient ruins.