From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

CHAPTER VI.

18th February.—We marched from Ballakhan twenty-eight miles, and camped on the bank of the river Helmand, close under the citadel of Búst. The night proved stormy, and a good deal of rain fell, rendering the ground for several miles from camp very heavy and deep in mud. At two miles from camp, we passed the ruins of Ballakhan, on a mound some little way off to the right of the road; and a little farther on, the Júe Mahmand, also to the right of the road. This tract, as far west as the Kárez-i-Sarkár, is held by the Núrzais, whose camps of black tents and settlements of reed huts dot the surface at short intervals. We found large herds of their camels, oxen, goats, and sheep at graze on the scanty pastures the surface afforded.

The country here is similar to that traversed yesterday. Deep irrigation canals, now mostly dry, intersect it in all directions, and, crossing the road at short intervals, present obstructions to the free passage of the traveller. The soil is everywhere spongy and charged with salines, yet a considerable extent is brought under cultivation. The natives cure the land of these salts by first sowing with rice and then with clover, and after this the soil is said to be fit for any crop.

For several miles our road led over a succession of salt-pits and ovens, and lying about we found several samples of the alimentary salt prepared here from the soil. It was in fine white granules, massed together in the form of the earthen vessel in which the salt had been evaporated. The process of collecting the salt is very rough and simple. A circular pit or conical basin, seven or eight feet deep, and about twelve feet in diameter, is excavated. Around its circumference is dug a succession of smaller pits or circular basins, each about two feet wide by one and a half feet deep. On one side of the large pit is a deep excavation, to which the descent from the pit is by a sloping bank. In this excavation is a domed oven, with a couple of fireplaces. At a little distance off are the piles of earth scraped from the surface and ready for treatment. And, lastly, circling round each pit is a small water-cut, led off from a larger stream running along the line of the pits.

Such is the machinery. The process is simply this: A shovelful of earth is taken from the heap and washed in the basins (a shovelful for each) circling the pit. The liquor from these is, whilst yet turbid, run into the great central pit, by breaking away a channel for it with the fingers. This channel is then closed with a dab of mud, and fresh earth washed, and the liquor run off as before; and so on till the pit is nearly full of brine. This is allowed to stand till the liquor clears. It is then ladled out into earthen jars, set on the fire, and boiled to evaporation successively, till the jar is filled with a cake of granular salt. The jars are then broken, and the mass of salt (which retains its shape) is ready for conveyance to market.

Large quantities of this salt are used by the nomad population, and a good deal is taken to Kandahar. The quantity turned out here annually must be very great. The salt-pits extend over at least ten miles of country we traversed, and we saw certainly several thousand pits.

These saline tracts are not so utterly waste as one would imagine. The soil, though curable for purposes of cultivation, as above mentioned, spontaneously supports a growth, which is more or less abundant, of artemisia, saltworts of three or four kinds, camel-thorn, dwarf tamarisk, and some thorny bushes called karkanna. These afford excellent pasture for camels, and the oxen and sheep fattened on them are said to thrive and improve in flesh better than on the hill pastures, which often produce fatal bowel complaints.

As we went along, I made an unsuccessful detour after a flock of coolan I had seen alight some way off to the right of our route, and came upon some immense herds of camels, oxen, and sheep, all grazing together in the vicinity of nomad camps scattered over the country. The sheep are all of the fat-tailed variety, called gad here and dumba in India, and appeared of large size and in excellent condition. They are shorn twice a year, and the wool fetches the nomad one rupee per sheep. The milk, cheese, and cúrút is valued at another rupee for each sheep, and a lamb at a third; so that the nomad’s annual profit from his flock may be reckoned at three rupees per head of sheep he owns.

I passed close to several tents, and spoke to some of the men. They did not seem very well disposed, and stared at me rather savagely. Colonel Táj Muhammad, who accompanied me with three or four troopers, hurried me back to our party, saying these men were not to be trusted; and as our party was small, it was not safe to tarry long amongst them. His hint was not lost, and we soon left the savages to their native wilds, and speculations as to the booty that had escaped their clutches.

At a little short of half-way we halted a while at a mound near some Núrzai tents, whilst the baggage went ahead. At a mile to the north is the Nurullah Khushkába, so called on account of its aridity, the undulating tract being void of water. At about twelve miles north by west from the mound is the Girishk fort, and below it, on the Helmand, we saw the Dubrár mound, and on the plain to the west the Mukhattar mound, an isolated heap of ruins, marking the site of an ancient fort. The governor of Girishk is Muhammad Alam Khán, son of the late Saggid Muhammad Khán of Peshawar, and for several years a servant of the British Government in the Panjab. A messenger met us here from the fort, to say that the governor was absent in the Zamíndáwar district collecting the revenue, or he would have come out to pay his respects to the General.