Yezidi legend has it that the ark had a narrow escape of foundering during its voyage to Judi Dagh, and what would have befallen the race of man then? It bumped sadly on mount Sinjar, and sprung a serious leak in consequence.[150] Disaster was only averted by the promptitude of the Serpent, who wriggled into the hole, coiled himself into a ball on each side, and then pulled together tightly like a rivet to caulk the leak. There he remained till the voyage was over; whereupon Noah (with rather doubtful gratitude) sacrificed and burnt him at once. He must have left a brood behind him, to be the ancestors of the present stock; but he perished, and he got his revenge, for from his ashes came forth fleas. It is at least an unusual thing to find a story of any sort that attributes disinterested conduct to a serpent; and this legend can claim, at any rate, such support as is given to it by the great abundance of the insect referred to in the neighbourhood of this their original home.
An American sufferer once assured the writer of his conviction that in the course of ages, the very structure of the sandbank on which stands the town of Jezireh (just at the foot of Judi Dagh, and on the river Tigris) had been metamorphosed; and that it was now composed exclusively of flies, fleas, and fever microbes in approximately equal proportions! Experience, it must be admitted, makes one disposed to agree with him. The town is “more Lord of Fleas than any place in Kurdistan.”
Fhairshon had a son
Who married Noah’s daughter.
And it is gratifying to find that the memory of this mythical personage is still preserved in the land where he wooed his[{337}] bride. Noah’s son-in-law (so we are told) was a giant of such prodigious stature that his attempt at “spoiling ta’ flood by drinking up ta’ water” may have had some initial success. Of course he could not get inside the ark, but he obligingly sat astride of it, and paddled it about with his feet. What became of him later the legend sayeth not. No doubt he carried off his wife to Scotland with him; and so passed beyond local ken.
Time passed gradually at Amadia, till even the leisurely Ottoman processes were complete, and the imperial firmān for the building of an “English house” at that centre was duly issued. All ill-feeling with our neighbours had practically died out before that date; and the last of it vanished with the document’s arrival, every Sanballat and Geshem in the neighbourhood coming to call, and to explain how delighted he personally had always been to have us there, and how it was only “those others” who stirred up bad blood. It is true that one more consistent man observed, on the occasion of the public reading of the formal charter in the diwan of the governor, “Poor Mohammed Reshid! He has to do whatever these Franks tell him”; but he prudently kept that remark under his breath.
A solemn festival marked the burying of the hatchet; after which the guests, having consumed more than one sheep between them, went home in procession with all the spoons of the household in their hats! This would have suggested at home that the wearers had dined not only well, but too well; but in Kurdistan it expresses no more than an unusual satisfaction with the banquet.
Note. Much of the district of Bohtan (a region which lies to the westward of the Sapna valley) is practically unknown to Europeans; being inhabited only by wild tribes of Kurds, with a scattering of Christians mostly of the Nestorian Church, as their rayats. It is extremely rugged, and the gorges of the River Bohtan are among the very finest to be found even in that land.
The following tale of one of its inhabitants is worthy of record, as showing the heroism and fidelity that can be exhibited at times by this downtrodden people.
The writer was anxious to visit the Nestorian villages of the district and had arranged with the Patriarch that he should do so; but found the scheme vetoed by the British Consul of Van, on the ground that “I have been speaking to the Vali on the matter, and he says that two[{338}] companies of soldiers would not be enough to guard you there.” Under these circumstances he abandoned the journey; but Rabban Werda, a deacon of the Nestorian Church, already mentioned in these pages, then volunteered to go alone into the district and see what he could do for the people there. He volunteered with, of course, full knowledge of the fact that, though there would at all events be questions asked if the Englishman got shot, nobody would trouble about such a trifle as the death of a mere rayat like himself.
He went and he returned safely; and in the course of his journey he visited a village called Shernakh, where he received hospitality as usual in the house of the Agha, but was surprised to find himself treated with more consideration than is the general lot of a Christian wanderer under the circumstances.