To Mesopotamia and Kurdistan in disguise : $b with historical notices of the Kurdish tribes and the Chaldeans of KurdistanSoane, Ely Banister
History
To Mesopotamia and Kurdistan in disguise : $b with historical notices of the Kurdish tribes and the Chaldeans of Kurdistan
Soane, Ely Banister
Iraq -- Description and travel; Kurdistan -- Description and travel; Tigris River Valley -- Description and travel
Though the restless spirit of the Western had been long calmed within
me, yet it was not quelled, and here asserted itself. For sixteen
days I had remained in Kirkuk. The weather, with that suddenness of
progress to hot and cold that it exhibits upon these dry plains, had
grown oppressive; the plain which, when we arrived, was covered with
green, if scanty grass, was now a bright yellow, the dried stalks were
scorching, and the mules’ daily expedition to the plain to graze was
almost a farce. In that peculiar way that marks the approach of summer,
the sun shot up at a high velocity from behind the crimson hills
towards Kurdistan, climbed to his ever-mounting zenith, hung there,
it would seem for twelve hours or so, and as quickly descended; the
hours of cool daylight were but three. Towards sunset the decrease in
temperature was hardly appreciable, for the world was heating, and it
took an hour or two of darkness to make it reasonably cool. As has been
said before, the town is situated in a position that in our climate
we should call “sheltered,” which in these lands means extra hot and
stifling. The afternoon hours were approaching that temperature which
induces sleep behind closed doors, and the one occasion upon which
business called me outside, at about three in the afternoon, showed me
an empty town, and also scorching heat of the sun in Kirkuk in May.
Besides, the fez, the most utterly ridiculous headgear man ever
invented, protecting neither from heat nor cold, acts with such
calorific power as to make one’s scalp regularly boil in sweat under a
hot sun.
Flies, too, were breeding like microbes. My daily journey to the bazaar
took me past some butchers’ shops, and I noticed one morning that the
never-cleansed beams upon which the meat hangs were unrelieved black in
colour--flies, solid, and overlaid with flies, that hardly even moved
when the butcher swept his long knife along, squashing hundreds, to
cut meat next moment without even wiping his blade. Fortunately the
custom of the country doubtless prevents a great deal of disease that
might result from such condition. Butchers’ shops open in the early
morning till about the second hour; one sheep only at a time is killed,
and until that is sold another does not appear. Consequently owing to
the short time during which it is possible to purchase meat, there is
a great rush of buyers, and the flesh of the sheep and goats does not
remain long enough than to have one thin layer consumed by flies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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