At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

by John Alfred Gray

After taking leave of the Governor we were shown into the Guest pavilion in its enclosed garden. Here arrangements had been made for us to spend the night. On the north side, where the pavilion overlooks the Kabul river, was a stone colonnade or verandah with pillars. A sentry was stationed here and also at the gate of the garden. One of the Khans had asked permission to entertain us at dinner, and with Afghan hospitality he provided also for the guard, servants, and horses. He did not dine with us but came in afterwards for a chat. I noticed that in spite of being a Mahomedan he did not refuse a cigarette and some whiskey. This gentleman we were told had considerable power in the neighbourhood of Gundamuk, and we were advised, in case it should ever be necessary to escape from Kabul, to remember his friendliness; for though Gundamuk is a long way from Kabul, one could ride there in a day.

Next day we had a gallop through the fertile part of the valley. I had changed my mare for a steadier horse and my mind was peaceful. Away to the south it was stony and bare, and in the distance we could see the snow-capped range of the Suffêd Koh or White Mountains. We did not go very many miles, but put up at the village of Tattang. Some of the villages are built entirely as forts, resembling those in the Khyber district. In others there is a similar but smaller fort, which is occupied by the Malek or some rich man with his immediate retainers; the other houses, flat topped and built of sun-dried bricks, are clumped irregularly together near the fort. But the windows, for safety and to ensure privacy, generally open into a walled garden or yard, so that even these have the appearance of being fortified. The villages are surrounded by orchards and fields.

Gunpowder Factory at Tattang.

At Tattang the Amîr has a gunpowder factory, and the superintendent showed us over it. The machinery is of wood, roughly made, and is worked by water power. The water is obtained from a stream rising in the Suffêd Koh mountains, and is led by broad channels to the water wheels. Along the channels, and indeed along most of the irrigation canals that one sees in the country, are planted poplars or willows; these protect the canal banks from injury, and possibly lessen by their shade the rapid evaporation of water that takes place in a dry hot climate. The gunpowder is not for sale, and severe penalties are inflicted on those detected selling or stealing any.

The following day we left the cultivated part of the valley and rode through a stony desert and over pebbly mountains to Nimla. Contrasted with the pleasant ride through the fields of the day before, the heat and glare were most oppressive. The Nimla valley is, however, an oasis in the desert. In it there is a very beautiful garden enclosed within a high wall. It was made by Shah Jehangir about 1610 A.D., and has been repaired by the present Amîr. One can see the garden a great way off, the deep green of its cypress trees being a striking piece of colour among the blue greys and reds of the mountainous barren landscape. There is an avenue of these trees about one hundred feet wide, and between them, from one end of the garden to the other, rushes a broad stream with three cascades artificially made and enclosed within a stone embankment. The water is brought from a stream rising in the Suffêd Koh mountains, and rushes on to join the Surkhâb, a branch of the Kabul river.

At one end of the avenue is a pavilion surrounded by flowers. Here we put up for the night. Soldiers were sent off to the nearest villages to buy provisions, and our Hindustani cook, having dug a shallow hole in the ground in which to build his wood fire, placed a couple of stones on each side to support his pots, and sent us an excellent dinner of soup, roast fowl, and custard pudding.

The Suffêd Koh, or White Mountains.

We started off early next morning. Leaving the Nimla valley we had a rough road, often no more than a dry watercourse which led up over rocky mountains and across stony plains for many miles. As we were travelling westward, on our left hand, that is to the south, could be seen the great range of mountains called the Suffêd Koh, on the other side of which is the Kurram valley, now occupied by the British. This range forms the southern boundary of the Kabul province, and extending from the Khyber mountains had been on our left the whole way. Our route, however, had been somewhat north-west, for we had kept fairly close to although not on the banks of the Kabul river, but at Jelalabad we branched off from the river south-west, and came much closer to the Suffêd Koh.

This range, unlike the other mountains we saw, is covered with great forests of trees. In the whole country the arboreal distribution is peculiar. The forests are confined entirely to the main ranges of mountains and their immediate offshoots. The more distant prolongations are bare and rocky. I remember once in travelling from Turkestan to Kabul, everyone stopped and stared, for there on a mountain a solitary tree could be seen; it looked most extraordinary. In the valleys there are poplars and willows, which have been planted by the peasants for use afterwards as roofing beams, and there are orchards of fruit-trees, but I never saw a forest, a wood, nor even a spinney. The species of tree on those mountains where they are to be found, varies, of course, according to the height you find them growing. For instance, high up, there are the cone-bearing trees, the various kinds of pine and fir. Then come the yew and the hazel, the walnut and the oak. Lower down—to 3,000 feet—are wild olives, acacias, and mimosas. On the terminal ridges you find simply shrubs and herbs.