Everyday Life in Turkey

Preface

The romantic scene of chapter v. and the quaint tale of chapter vi. may seem exceptional and hardly fair specimens of " Everyday Life in Turkey," in which some travellers find little but hardship and dis comfort, varied by ruins. But the great charm of Turkish travel is that romantic and quaint experiences come almost daily to those who look for them. PAGE TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter I. The Town i Afiom-Kara-Hissar — The Bazaars — Market Day — Shopping — The Khan — The Chamber over the Gate — Pleasant Quarters — A Polite Greek — Military Visitors — The Mysterious Persian — An Awful Moment — The Cretan Obliges — " Put Down Your Veil " — The Merchant of Sandykli — A Useful Husband — The Zeibek— An Elderly Dandy — The House — Pretty Women — An Armenian House — "Those Brutes Again!" — Cutting the Tchelebi's Hair.

Chapter II. The Village 47 A Moonlit Sleep — The Morning Wash — Rags — " The Wife of Ahmet" — Chopped Straw — Sons of Eve — The Evil Eye— A Blue Ribbon— Sacred Birds- Hidden Treasure — Faith in Medicine — Hospitality —The "Guest-house"— The Little Dyer— A Plucky Craven — Uninvited Guests — An Evening in Ramazan — A Religious Service — Hagob to the Rescue 1 — Canine Fiends — " Yuruk ". b X TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Chapter III. The Burying-Ground - - - 90 The Grave— A Sudden Death— The Dead Man— Wailing Women — The Gravestone — Young Roughs. Chapter IV. Women and Children - - - 102 Discreet Women — The Mother-in-law — The Wife — An Angry Husband — The Henpecked One — "The Sultan's Daughter" — Wedding Festivities — A Bride — The Turk as a Father— The Girl-child — Poor Woman ! — What a Mother 1 Chapter V. A Day in a Harem - - - 126 The Woman in Black — A Woman Doctor in Turkey — A Turkish Lady — A Talk about Husbands— The Lady's Toilette — A Reception in a Harem — The Old Lady in Turkey — The Leading Lady — Vaccination — "Showing Five" — The Dancing Girl — A Dinner Party — The Cream Tart — The Dinner Continues — Grace after Meat.

Chapter VI. The God in the Glen - - - 157 The River of Ibriz— The Glen— One of the " Wee Folk" — The Cavern — Empty Graves. TABLE OF CONTENTS XI PAGE Chapter VII. The Saint, the Devil, and the Antiquary 168 A Fellow-Christian — A Dated Inscription — The Downfall of the God — A Sweeping Conversion — The Devil Goes to Rome — A Kiss for a Blow — The Grateful Empress — A Saint's Revenge — The Saint's Epitaph — The Growth of a Legend — Ruin of the Valley — Saving an Inscription — The Sultan and the Anti quary. Chapter VIII. Diary of a Journey - - - 194 The Regie — The Women of Koula — Our Servants — The Burnt Country — The Miraculous Fish — The Hot Springs — The Mudir s Family — A Market Gardener — Turkish Horses — Advertising in Turkey —The Kaimmakam — The Brigand of Simav — Departure of a Friend — Aezani — Mistaken Identity — A Shrine of Cybele — A Cure for Madness — A Prophecy Fulfilled— The " Lion Tombs "—The " Lions' Heads " — A Circassian Village — A Dust Storm — A Haunted Glen — An Anxious Hour — A Dangerous Intruder — Pishmish Kalessi — The Tomb of Midas — A Suspicious Character — A Tragedy — Routed by Fleas — A Conflagration — Caught in the Rain — Watering the Flocks — The Dervish Estate — The Blind Sheikh — The Sheikh's Son — Blandishments — Friday in Kara-Hissar — The Dervishes — The Dervish Dance — After the Dance — A Return Visit- Shunning a Shower — Afternoon Tea — In a Bath — Men-Nurses— A Nasty Jump — How to Catch Fever — A Pleasant Camping Place — A Horse Fight — How to Treat Horses — An Awkward Question — A "Smyrniote " — Active Turks — The Gate of Hell. EVERYDAY LIFE IN TURKEY

Chapter I. The Town

People have been accustomed lately to hear so much evil of the Turks — stories of their fanatical hatred towards their Christian fellow-countrymen, their cruelty and unspeakable wickedness — that one might well suppose them to be merely a sort of combination of ferocious wild beast and incar nate fiend. It is not under this aspect that I have known them and wish to speak of them. It is now about seventeen years since I first went with my husband to Turkey. I have lived in the country, and have travelled in it ; and have found the people always simple, peaceable, hospitable, and friendly — living amicably with their Christian neighbours, at least as much oppressed by the bad government as they are — often more so — and it is true, as a speaker on the Armenian question recently said, that not the least of the crimes charged against the present Sultan is, that he has set the worst class of Turks above the best, and stirred up among his Mohammedan subjects religious hatred and evil passions.

I am not going to speak of the people of such places as Constantinople, or Smyrna, or Mersina, or Salonika. In all the great seaports, Western civilisation influences, more or less, the life of all the inhabitants. My intention is to tell about the people of the inner country — the dwellers in vil lages or in the inland cities. It is not easy by mere words to give a clear idea of a modern Turkish inland town. One's first impression of it invariably is, that it has been half finished, and then allowed to fall into decay. This is true even of the most flourishing and important towns. Take, for example, Afiom-Kara-Hissar, one of the largest and busiest in Asia Minor, lying on the great highway and post-road between Con stantinople and Konia, and now a railway station, though my description applies to an earlier time, when no railway had gone up beyond the coast valleys.

AFIOM-KARA-HISSAR 3 The situation of Kara-Hissar is one of the most striking imaginable. It lies between two great cone-shaped rocks that spring abruptly from the plain at the foot of a lofty mountain range. On the summit of the higher cone, which is about 700 feet in height, is the Byzantine fortress that gives the town its name, Kara-Hissar — Black Castle. From this fortress (if you have any strength left to look around after climbing the terrible stairway cut in the rock which leads to it), you may behold all the wonders of the sur rounding scene — the dark and rugged mountains behind ; the town at your feet, with its steep streets, the shining domes of its mosques, and its tall slender minarets, like gigantic candles with extinguishers on ; and, stretching away to the distant hills, the magnificently fertile plain, green with pasture, yellow with waving corn, or white and purple with opium poppies.

This plain was the site of the imperial farms in Byzantine times. The Dervishes of Kara-Hissar — said to be de scendants of the old Seljuk Sultans — possess several estates on it now, and these are exempt from the payment of government taxes. This interesting city is built principally of mud ! The mosques, however, are of stone, notably that of the Dervishes, which is the finest in the town. There is also a fine large Armenian church, built of stone and marble brought from the site of an ancient city. The streets are mere spaces between the houses, ill-paved — where paved at all — and full of holes and pit-falls. Streams of water trickle down the centre of many of them — an improve ment on some towns, where the central gutters are filled with stagnant filth — and children, dogs and fowls dabble and pick up odds and ends.

All the household refuse is thrown into the streets, to rot and make the air unwholesome. The only scavengers are the homeless dogs, which frequent the streets in great numbers, and in towns do not attack strangers as they do in the country. Business is confined to the bazaars, where each trade has its own street or location — dyers, shoe makers, goldsmiths, tailors, tanners, bakers, tin smiths, cloth-merchants, makers of sweetmeats, grocers, money-lenders, and so on, keeping each to their own quarter. The bazaars are always partly roofed over— sometimes entirely so. In Kara-Hissar they are very extensive, and partly built over streams of water, which are, for long THE BAZAARS 5 distances, covered with planks like the flooring of a room. If I remember rightly, horses, donkeys, and camels are prohibited from entering the parts so paved.

The bazaars have strong gates that are closed at nightfall. The shops are all open in front, and have shutters and doors to close at night. Perhaps it would be more correct to call them booths. Each consists generally of a single apartment with shelves all round to hold the wares. There is no glass in the window, and on the broad ledge outside goods are exposed for sale, while others are hung round the window and the doorway. Inside you see the proprietor seated cross-legged on his diwan, peacefully inhaling the smoke of his narghile, while he awaits such customers as fate may send his way. On market-day, which in large towns probably occurs once a week, the bazaars present a lively scene. In Kara - Hissar Friday, the Moslem Sunday, is also market-day, and with the first peep of dawn buyers and sellers from all the villages of the surrounding country come throng ing to the town.

Those who are not shopkeepers but have things to sell, sit in rows on the ground, their wares arranged temptingly before and around them : tall baskets filled with grapes and apples, piles of leeks, tomatoes, melons ; corn and rice, salt and sugar, in woollen sacks ; bales of printed calico and muslin ; trays of small-wares, such as buttons, beads, glass bangles, combs ; baskets of iron horse-shoes, or flints for the teeth of threshing-machines ; honey and cheese brought from the hills in goatskins, with the hair inside, by ragged, sun-blackened peasants. If you want fresh yaghurt or new-laid eggs, those veiled women sitting in the shade of the wall just beyond the bazaar, with a row of bowls in front of them, have brought a supply from the villages in the plain. Or if you would like a turkey to roast for supper, there is a little peasant with bare brown legs and a ragged handkerchief on his head, herd ing a flock of them with a willow-wand, as they pick a precarious breakfast from the gutters.

Here are vendors of sweetmeats, who keep up a continu ous swishing with their paper " fly-flickers," to ward off the swarms of buzzing wasps and flies from their wares. If you buy a pennyworth of sweets from one of them, he will give you a handful of " chibliboothies " into the bargain. Yonder MARKET-DAY is a group of women in snowy muslin veils, shape less ferijis and yellow slippers, bargaining over a string of amber beads or a piece of print ; and there are some others buying honey cakes for their children from a stalwart negress, swathed in a scarlet cloth, and with a cross deeply scarred in either round black cheek to mark her as some one's slave. From the butchers' stalls, where they are cutting up lambs and kids, whose gory skins hang reeking in the sun, there comes a sickening odour, and the buzzing and humming of thousands of wasps and bluebottles.

As you hastily turn to avoid these horrors, ten to one you stumble over some of the skulking dogs that haunt the spot, and rouse a dismal chorus of protesting howls. Next you are jostled by a donkey carrying a load of charcoal ; you and the charcoal nearly come to grief, and the driver calls upon the name of God. Then, as you catch his eye, he smiles at you, showing teeth of dazzling whiteness in a face as black as his char coal, and for your sake curses his donkey and all its ancestors to the ninth generation. Itinerant vendors of lemonade wander about among the crowd making a din to call people's attention to the fact that they are ready, for a small consideration, to refresh the thirsty with a drink cooled with snow brought from some hollow high among the mountains. They have their big bottle of sweetened lemon-juice and their bigger bottle of snow-water, and a number of glasses all packed into a brass case shaped to fit round the body, and slung round the neck.

If you prefer coffee, there are plenty of coffee-shops where tiny cups of black coffee are supplied at a moment's notice, and a " hubble-bubble," too, if you are so inclined. Or if you are hungry and desire more substantial refreshment, there are eating-houses where you can buy food — the yahli pilaf, the savoury kebab served on " flaps " of bread, vegetables of various kinds, salted fish, rice boiled in milk with powdered cinnamon sprinkled on the top, " pastry various," and the wholesome ya ghurt. Or if your wants are even more simple, you can make a meal of bread and goat's-milk cheese, with a dozen of black olives or a couple of tomatoes. If the narrow precincts of the eating-house are crowded when you arrive, just purchase what you want, carry it off in the piece of coarse paper the yemekji provides to your SHOPPING khan, or sit down and eat it in the nearest con venient spot.

No one will interfere with you. The crowd loiters about its business in the most easy-going fashion, and everybody is good tempered, and nobody in a hurry. If a begging Dervish, wild-eyed, sunburnt and unkempt, in ragged sheepskin and with staff in hand, chances to pass near while you are enjoying your meal, throw a handful of olives and a morsel of bread and cheese into the metal basket that hangs round his neck, and he will give you a blessing in return. It was our custom to replenish our travelling stores of sugar, rice, dried apricots, etc., at any large town we came to, as such things are not to be found elsewhere. If we were in a hurry, the servants were sent alone to make the necessary purchases, but when we were not, I liked to go with them myself for the fun of the thing, especially if I wanted anything for my personal use, such as a yard or two of muslin for a veil, sweetmeats, etc.

I would set out, accompanied by the cook (when we had one with us ; which was not always, as all Turks know how to cook, more or less, so that sometimes the kavasses did the cooking), and another of the men. Strangers always attract attention ; and by the time we had bought a few okes of rice and sugar, a little crowd of interested spectators would have collected, and would follow us for the rest of the way quietly, never jostling us or making any fuss, but just looking on, and perhaps occasionally offering a suggestion or a bit of advice, of which nobody took any notice, or joining in the laugh which some smart rejoinder from one side or the other evoked during the bargaining that goes on over the smallest item that is bought and sold. At the bakals, or grocery shops, we made our purchases from the outside ; but in the cloth bazaar it was different.

There I entered the shop, seated myself upon the diwan, and salaamed politely to the proprietor, before stating what it was my desire to purchase, while my servant, slipping off his shoes as he entered, seated him self on the floor, and the crowd looked on ad miringly from outside. When I had made known my wants, viz., a couple of yards of white muslin, the shopkeeper did not at once supply them. That would be very bad style of business in Turkey. On the contrary, he proceeded to display before my THE KHAN dazzled gaze all sorts of things that I didn't want, from Manchester-made turban cloths to silken ferijis and richly embroidered cashmere shawls. Of course I inquired the price of everything, and was told twice as much as he would have taken in the end. Equally of course, I sometimes bought things I hadn't thought of buying before entering the shop.

If he saw me hesitating, his assiduity increased, and he would call to some one to order coffee. A kaweji would appear in a few minutes with a little brass tray bearing two tiny cups of black coffee in little brass sefs or holders, one of which was presented to me, the other to my servant. After about an hour or so we would part, mutually pleased, I with my muslin, and perhaps a Broussa handkerchief, or some other trifle. Once it was a pair of men's coloured woollen waistbands, each five yards long and twelve inches wide, which made excellent borders for a pair of curtains when I got home to Scotland. The khan, or inn, is always a notable feature of a Turkish town. The better sort is usually a two storeyed building of stone or wood, or both, or it may be built of wood and sun-dried mud bricks — according to the abundance or scarcity of any or all of these materials in the district.

The building surrounds a courtyard. The ground floor is used as stables, etc., and the upper is occupied by the dwelling-rooms. These rooms open on to a gallery which is reached by ladder-like stairs at the four corners of the yard. Some of the rooms have windows looking on to the street, but gene rally the windows look only on to the gallery, in which case the rooms are usually close and stuffy. In wooden khans the vermin that inhabit the wood make life a burden and sleep a nightmare. In stone or mud buildings the fleas which frequent such places can always be, at least temporarily, got rid of by using a plentiful supply of water and a broom. To the khan there is only one gate of entrance, and the rule is to close the gate at nightfall, after which no stranger is admitted. The khans, like private houses, are usually allowed to fall into a shocking state of disrepair.

I have one in my mind's eye, where I once stayed for a night or two, at a town of some importance called Eregli. This khan was an unusually com modious one, and had once been a fine building. THE CHAMBER OVER THE GATE 13 We were accommodated with a wide and lofty and perfectly empty chamber over the gateway. The end next the gallery was entirely open, and at the other a row of windows looked out upon the market-place. These windows had once had glass in them, but that was gone, and only the frames, protected by rusty iron bars, remained, so that at least we could not complain of want of air. The floor was of boards, supported on rafters, quite black, and so rotten and full of holes that not only had we to take care not to put our feet through it, but we could look down and see all that was going on in the gateway beneath, and hear all that was said ; and could have easily dropped things on the heads of the people who passed out and in, or who lounged on the stone seats, if we had been so disposed.

The gateway being provided with these seats along either side, was a convenient place of meeting, and being directly opposite the market was much frequented. Opening off this pavilion, as it might be called, was a smaller chamber, separated from it by a slight partition of wood about three feet high, with the remains of glass panes that had once reached to the roof. The floor was in the same condition as that of the outer chamber, and the remains of a dais were still visible. In proper condition, the floor spread with soft carpets, the dais cushioned and piled with pillows, with silken curtains drawn over the glass of the partition, the little room would have been a charming place in which to take one's siesta or drink one's coffee. As it was, it was hardly fit to put the saddles and saddle-bags in, and we made no attempt to use it for anything else.

The rest of the khan was in the same con dition of dilapidation and dirt, and an enormous dunghill which occupied the middle of the yard did not add sweetness to the atmosphere. All khans are, however, not so bad as that, and sometimes the traveller may find in them a reason ably comfortable lodging — especially if the khanji happens to be a Greek or an Armenian, and has some idea of keeping the place in repair. For example, at Nev-Sheher, a Greek town in central Asia Minor (in fact the only purely Greek city in the country), you will find a splendid khan, built entirely of large blocks of well-cut stone, with good rooms, lofty roofs, cool, clean, airy and beautifully managed. But even in Turkish towns, in some PLEASANT QUARTERS of the better kept khans, you may find not only some attempt at comfort, but even an endeavour to make things neat.

I remember such a one in Afiom-Kara-Hissar. The doors of the rooms were all numbered in both Turkish and other figures, and had scrolls of flowers, etc., painted on them in blue. The windows were well glazed, there was a fountain in the middle of the yard instead of a dunghill, and a thick vine was trained across from gallery to gallery, giving a delightful shade. In such a place you choose the room that seems to you the nicest, and have the floor well sprinkled with water and thoroughly swept. Then you spread your waterproof sheets and unpack your camp-bed (which will serve you for a sofa) and your other belongings, and make yourself quite comfortable. If the water and sweeping should fail to remove any chance fleas, you will find that the waterproof sheet is a safeguard against the same enemy — we found this the best, in fact no flea seems able to hold out against the smell of mackintosh, while all but the feeblest despise any ordinary " insecticide ".

If the walls and floor are of stone, congratulate yourself ; if they are of wood, I know of no protection against the on slaught of bugs as soon as ever darkness comes on. If you remain indoors in a wood-lined house, you must just endure it. When staying in a khan you provide your own food, and not only that, you provide your own furniture also. You can sometimes, if you desire to do so, borrow carpets and mattresses, or hire them, for the occasion ; but this is not advisable, if it can be avoided. You send to the eating house in the tcharshi for food already cooked, or you may, if you like, buy the raw material and cook it yourself. There is generally a fountain in the courtyard ; but if not, you will find a supply of water in a gigantic earthenware jar in some handy corner, which is replenished daily by water carriers, who bring the water in cows' skins sewn up, so as to make huge bags.

Opposite the door of each room there is generally a little wooden sink fixed to the rail of the gallery, from which the dirty water used by the visitors pours down upon anybody or anything that may chance to be below. About the hour of noon in any much-frequented khan, you will probably find a number of the guests A POLITE GREEK 17 engaged in preparing their midday meal in the galleries. Each has his little fire of charcoal in an iron tripod before the door of his room, and there he sits patiently on his heels watching some savoury morsel that frizzles in his little frying pan, or waiting till the rice for his pilaf is suffi ciently boiled. Once I saw a young Greek who occupied the room next ours preparing for his dinner a number of small green landcrabs. He had crammed them alive and sprawling into a little pot of cold water.

As the water became warm the crabs made desperate efforts to crawl out, while the Greek kept pushing them in again with a stick. Looking towards me by chance and seeing, no doubt, an expression of horror on my face, he said politely, " I observe, lady, that this sight displeases you " ; and removed fire, pot and crabs to some place beyond the range of my view. In towns the traveller does not usually come so much into personal contact with the people as in the villages. In the latter, as a rule, news of your arrival immediately gets wind, and most of the inhabitants will hasten (as much as their natural laziness and sluggishness allow) to make your acquaintance. Even in the towns, however, your distinguished presence sometimes attracts notice, the news spreads, and you may become the object of polite and friendly attention.

On the other hand, the people of the town may have no disposition to make your acquaintance, and will simply ignore you. Or, lastly, some too energetic mudir or kaimmakam may pounce upon you, and make your stay in the town either pleasant or the reverse, according to his temper and disposition. It was our fortune more than once to attract friendly attention. For example, one day in May, 1888, we had occasion to be for a few hours in Sandykli, a town of some importance about 200 miles east of Smyrna and about eight hours' ride from the terminus of the Ottoman Railway. A telegram which had arrived for us on the same day at the telegraph office no doubt helped to advertise us. We had ridden from some mineral baths, where we were staying, about two hours away, and after calling for our telegram and letters adjourned to a khan — a wretched, filthy place — for shelter from the midday sun and to have lunch.

The rooms were all so hot and stuffy that we chose to remain in the gallery, where the khanji obligingly MILITARY VISITORS accommodated us with some mattresses and cushions —uninviting-looking articles, but it was a choice between them and an equally dirty floor. Sandykli is a garrison town. We had just finished our lunch when the khanji rushed up to announce visitors, and two military officers made their appearance at the top of the ladder that led to the gallery. They were both middle-aged men and dressed in the Turkish uniform ; but without belts or swords or anything of that sort. They wore the fez on their heads, and were shod with fine black kid boots with large leather shoes over them. They were politely horrified to find us in the gallery, and, after shaking hands, called upon the khanji to open his best room.

He did. One we had already declined to occupy — it was so hot, dirty and close ! Now it seemed hotter and stuffier than ever, but politeness impelled us to go in with our visitors. They conducted me to the best place — the diwan at the upper end of the room — and we all sat down and talked. Both were recent comers to Sandykli. One of them was an Albanian, the other a Turk. The latter had travelled a little in Europe, and they both deplored the miserable habits and habitations of the Turks, and regretted that they could not have things " a la Franga". The Albanian, who was seated near me, spoke to me frankly about his wife, who, he said, was with him and found the place insufferably dull and the people horrid. As it was the time of Ramazan they could not smoke ; but they offered us cigarettes, which we declined.

Then they ordered coffee — for us alone, as they could not partake of this either — and as the one who had been in Europe knew the ways of foreigners, and was anxious to give us things as we were accustomed to have them, he gave the order for " coffee and milk". There was apparently some difficulty in the execution of the order, for it was only after long delay and oft-repeated calls from our enter tainers that the kaweji made his appearance. Instead of bringing the coffee in cups in the usual way, he carried a bronze vessel containing a charcoal fire, on the top of which was a small kettle of milk and a coffee pan full of water. He was a Persian, with olive-coloured face, blue-black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a tiny moustache on his lip exactly the size and shape of his eyebrow. His clothes were ragged and dirty, his entire hands THE MYSTERIOUS PERSIAN were stained with henna, and on his head was a muslin turban which had no doubt once been white.

The khanji s assistant, a bare-legged Greek youth, followed him, carrying a tray on which were two coffee cups and two little glasses with saucers and spoons. The youth deposited the tray on the floor, rushed off and speedily returned with some lumps of sugar in a dirty pocket-handkerchief. As he entered I was asking one of the officers (merely for the sake of saying something), if the kaweji wore the Persian costume. The Greek heard the question, and apparently thought I was animadverting on his friend's appearance. He turned to me and said indignantly : " These are only his travelling clothes ! He has beautiful clothes at home ! You don't wear your best clothes when you're travelling, do you ? He is a man of excellent family and extremely rich in his own country." What such a swell was doing in this galere he did not condescend to explain.