Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 November 1894 — TRAVELING IN PERSIA. [ARTICLE]

TRAVELING IN PERSIA.

It Means Much Hard Work and Great Discomfort, Sb* Shah’* Empire I* Eatirely Without L Steamboat* or Good Bead*— How Wealthy Women Journo from Place to Place. [Special Ispahan (Persia! Letter.) It is difficult for the average American to imagine a whole big country entirely devoid of railroads, steamers and all other means of locomotion save those which were already in vogue in Biblical days, i. e., on foot or on the back of horse, mule, donkey or camel. That, however, is still the actual condi- ; tion of things in Persia, as in some other oriental countries. Added to this Is the further difficulty of the absence of good roads, navigable rivers, of bridges, etc., so that traveling in Per«ia is, indeed, not a pleasure, but a piece of very hard work. It may be hard to believe, but it is an absolute fact that the roads—or what goes by that name—in the Persia of to-day are, for the greater part, the same which were trodden by the armed hosts of Cyrus, of Darius Hystaspis, of Chosroes and other great conquerors of ancient times, and even the route taken by Zenophon in his return to Greece may, in part, be followed to this day by travelers similarly situated—day’s journey after day’s journey you can walk over the same ground which he describes in his “Anabasis,” but with this difference: In his time, more than 2,000 years ago, there were shady groves to shield the wayfarer from the fiery darts of the sun, and there were purling brooks and many villages and hostelries by the wayside, whereas now all this is mostly done away with, and with the exception of the vermin-infested postal stations, the so-called “chappar Khanis,” and the infrequent “caravan lerais,” there is nothing wherein to look for shelter from rain, sun, wild beasts and robbers.

It had been the intention to build railroads in Persia. Baron Reuter, of London, had obtained a charter to construct one from Teheran to the Persian gulf, and a Russian syndicate had planned a road from the shores of the Caspian to the capital, but both schemes fell to pieces, due to the rapacity and faithlessness of the Persian government —or rather some of its high officials. The last attempt I know of to build a good railroad—likewise from the Caspian or from Tabreez to Teheran—was made by the American minister—whose secretary I was at the time, in 1886—Mr. F. H. Winston, of Chicago, but it did not even get beyond the initial point, because the Persian authorities were still is eager to be bribed and to impose on the stranger capitalists who wished to benefit this country—and incidentally themselves, of course —as they had been before! Thus it is that this whole wide land—altogether comprising territory equal to the whole of our eastern and middle states in size—is still innocent of railroads and centuries behind the times.

Women the world over represent the iovable half of humanity, and climate, religion, race, form but minor modifications to this general rule. That was what Goethe meant with his “Eternal Womanly.” To me the supreme proof that woman in Persia is also lovable, amiable and long-suffering has always been the fact that she has smilingly, uncomplainingly stood the awful modes of travel which they have to submit to throughout Persia. I would like to see an American woman, for instance, traveling in a “kadjavay” for a week or a fortnight. But the mere idea is preposterous. Seriously, I wouldn’t blame the Persian women if they, some night, would arise in their might and kill every mother’s son of them—just out of revenge for this diabolical contrivance, the “kadjavay.” Imagine a horse or a mule carrying on its back a sort of hooded box, with curtains on the one side where fresh sir could be admitted, this box strapped tightly to the animal. The whole kadjavay—for this little box, about two feet high, is a kadjavay—is constructed so that the woman inmate of it can neither lie down in it, nor sit straight or upright, but is forced to keep her body in a half crouching position, with her limbs crossed. How she manages to escape out of these awful torture chambers comparatively unscathed is a miracle. But there they sit, for days and weeks and months even, while performing journeys of some distance, like graven images, with not a syllable In accusation of those who make them undergo this horrible ordeal; and not only that, but they must, forsooth, be closely veiled as well, and whenever a Stranger draws nigh must pull down the curtains of their kadjavay. It must be the force of inheritance and habit from early youth up, for to me it always seemed as if they must die the double death of suffocation and of paralysis. The chaddar —or Persian veil—is much worse than the Turkish yashmak, for it falls far down ovei face, bosom and torso, and is so closeljl Utting that almost no air reaches the month and nose of the hapless wearer. The small piece of looser w'eb inserted over the eyes allows but a mere glimpse of light, and barely permits the wearers to distinguish the objects outside. In a word, of all the barbarous and brutal outrages which custom allows the Persian to practice on his women folk, this, I think, is the worst. But I must add that even these restrictions are not proof against woman’s wit and cunning, for it happens frequently enough, despite it all, that love intrigues are arranged by the Persian women while traveling just in this way. I have seen myself—and given them credit for doing it —how at the critical moment they understand to lift that cumbersome “chaddar” of theirs, just for a moment. Of course that was because they had to arrange something about it. But that moment was all they needed to tell with their eloquent eyes what they wished to say. Perhaps an even more villainous way for Persian women to travel is by basket. For this donkeys are nearly always used. Two big baskets of even size arc attached to the back or the patient beast—hanging down one on either side—and i n each of these baskets is a woman, huddled there in a heap, with just the head protruding. This method is in general vogue among the wives and daughters of the peasants, artisans and all other poorer classes. In comparison with these the methods of travel in general use among the men arc vastly to be preferred, though they, too, are extremely primitive. To ride on the back of a camel, be it only for a couple of days, is anything but a pleasure, and it isn’t the fastest way, either. Four “farsakh” —about sixteen miles—is considered a good, day’s journey in Persia, although on a pinch ope

can get as much as forty miles out of a camel in good condition, and the “racing dromedaries” in use in southern Persia for the business of the crown have even been known to make u much as sixty or seventy miles, but in a sort of abominable jog trot which lands one all but. dead at the end of one’s trip. These racing dromedaries are especially bred and trained in studs which are the monopoly of the shah. Only persons authorized by the shah are permitted to own or ride one of these beasts. Pnesto and all other pious persons, as well as the pilgrims who go to Mecca, Kerbelah or Meshed, must only ride on donkeys, they being the slower and the more lowly quadrupeds, and hence to ride on them is considered a proof of humility and piety. Mules are much in use among the poorer classes, but of the donkeys there is one breed, the Bagdads, which are high in price, much larger and handsomer than the ordinary kind, and which, therefore, are preferred for travel by the ladies of the court. These donkeys, a breed, originally hailing from Bagdad, are of a beautiful iron gray, quite lively and very enduring, and I have seen some which sold as high as SSOO of our money—double the price at which a fine Arab steed can be purchased. As to horses, they form the means of conveyance for most of the men in Persia, and are by far to be preferred to any other animal. The common, eheap horses of the country, the sojalled “yaboo,” are the best for longdistance journeys, as they are very hardy, sure of foot, satisfied with a little oat straw and barley and whatever else they can pick up, and seem never to tire. I have myself covered sixty odd miles from dawn till four p. m., on the back of one of these wiry little beasts, in appearance not unlike Indian ponies. The mail carriers of the Persian government make incredible distances in a short time—of course, in relays—on the back of these “yaboo.” The 260 miles from the Caspian sea at Enzeli to Teheran are often done by these post riders inside of thirty-six hours, riding with almost no break, of course, and mounted on fresh horses at intervals of sixteen to twenty miles. These very serviceable native horses, however, are not showy—quite the reverse —and hence the Persian rides them only on long journeys, while for short distances and when out on pleasure he prefers either the Arab horse or, better still, theTurconan.a stately, fine-looking beast of enormous height, but insecure of foot and absolutely useless in the mountains. Wolf von Schierbrand.