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Around the World on a Bicycle V1

T >> Thomas Stevens >> Around the World on a Bicycle V1




Not long after my arrival at Tereklu I am introduced to another peculiar
and not unknown phase of the character of these people, one that I have
sometimes read of, but was scarcely prepared to encounter before being
on Asian soil three days. From some of them having received medical
favors from the medicine chest of travellers and missionaries, the
Asiatics have come to regard every Frank who passes through their country
as a skilful physician, capable of all sorts of wonderful things in the
way of curing their ailments; and immediately after supper I am waited
upon by my first patient, the mulazim of the Tereklu zaptiehs. He is a
tall, pleasant-faced fellow, whom I remember as having been wonderfully
courteous and considerate while I was riding for the people before supper,
and he is suffering with neuralgia in his lower jaw. He comes and seats
himself beside me, rolls a cigarette in silence, lights it, and hands
it to me, and then, with the confident assurance of a child approaching
its mother to be soothed and cured of some ailment, he requests me to
cure his aching jaw, seemingly having not the slightest doubt of my
ability to afford him instant relief. I ask him why he don't apply to
the hakim (doctor) of his native town. He rolls another cigarette, makes
me throw the half-consumed one away, and having thus ingratiated himself
a trifle deeper into my affections, he tells me that the Tereklu hakim
is "fenna; " in other words, no good, adding that there is a duz hakim
at Gieveh, but Gieveh is over the Kara Su dagh. At this juncture he seems
to arrive at the conclusion that perhaps I require a good deal of coaxing
and good treatment, and, taking me by the hand, he leads me in that
affectionate, brotherly manner down the street and into a coffee-Maw,
and spends the next hour in pressing upon me coffee and cigarettes, and
referring occasionally to his aching jaw. The poor fellow tries so hard
to make himself agreeable and awaken my sympathies, that I really begin
to feel myself quite an ingrate in not being able to afford him any
relief, and slightly embarrassed by my inability to convince him that
my failure to cure him is not the result of indifference to his sufferings.

Casting about for some way of escape without sacrificing his good-will,
and having in mind a box of pills I have brought along, I give him to
understand that I am at the top of the medical profession as a stomach-ache
hakim, but as for the jaw-ache I am, unfortunately, even worse than his
compatriot over the way. Had I attempted to persuade him that I was not
a doctor at all, he would not have believed me; his mind being unable
to grasp the idea of a Frank totally unacquainted with the noble AEsculapian
art; but he seems quite aware of the existence of specialists in the
profession, and notwithstanding my inability to deal with his particular
affliction, my modest confession of being unexcelled in another branch
of medicine seems to satisfy him. My profound knowledge of stomachic
disorders and their treatment excuses my ignorance of neuralgic remedies.

There seems to be a larger proportion of superior dwelling-houses in
Tereklu than in Gieveh, although, to the misguided mind of an unbeliever
from the West, they have cast a sort of a funereal shadow over this
otherwise desirable feature of their town by building their principal
residences around a populous cemetery, which plays the part of a large
central square. The houses are mostly two-story frame buildings, and the
omnipresent balconies and all the windows are faced with close lattice-work,
so that the Osmanli ladies can enjoy the luxury of gazing contemplatively
out on the area of disorderly grave-stones without being subjected to
the prying eyes of passers-by. In the matter of veiling their faces the
women of these interior towns place no such liberal - not to say coquettish -
interpretation upon the office of the yashmak as do their sisters of the
same religion in and about Constantinople. The ladies of Tereklu,
seemingly, have a holy horror of displaying any of their facial charms;
the only possible opportunity offered of seeing anything, is to obtain
an occasional glimpse of the one black eye with which they timidly survey
you through a small opening in the folds of their shroud-like outer
garment, that encases them from head to foot; and even this peeping
window of their souls is frequently hidden behind the impenetrable
yashmak. Mussulman women are the most gossipy and inquisitive creatures
imaginable; a very natural result, I suppose, of having had their feminine
rights divine under constant restraint and suppression by the peculiar
social position women occupy in Mohammedan countries. When I have arrived
in town and am surrounded and hidden from outside view by a solid wall
of men, it is really quite painful to see the women standing in small
groups at a distance trying to make out what all the excitement is about.
Nobody seems to have a particle of sympathy for their very natural
inquisitiveness, or even to take any notice of their presence. It is
quite surprising to see how rapidly the arrival of the Frank with the
wonderful araba becomes known among these women from one end of town to
another; in an incredibly short space of time, groups of shrouded forms
begin to appear on the housetops and other vantage-points, craning their
necks to obtain a glimpse of whatever is going on.

In the innocence of an unsophisticated nature, and a feeling of genuine
sympathy for their position, I propose collecting these scattered groups
of neglected females together and giving an exhibition for their especial
benefit, but the men evidently regard the idea of going to any trouble
out of consideration for them as quite ridiculous; indeed, I am inclined
to think they regard it as evidence that I am nothing less than a gay
Lothario, who is betraying altogether too much interest in their women;
for the old school Osmanli encompasses those hapless mortals about with
a green wall of jealousy, and regards with disapproval, even so much as
a glance in their direction. While riding on one occasion, this evening,
I noticed one over-inquisitive female become so absorbed in the proceedings
as to quite forget herself, and approach nearer to the crowd than the
Tereklu idea of propriety would seem to justify. In her absent-mindedness,
while watching me ride slowly up and dismount, she allowed her yashmak
to become disarranged and reveal her features. This awful indiscretion
is instantly detected by an old Blue-beard standing by, who eyes the
offender severely, but says nothing; if she is one of his own wives, or
the wife of an intimate friend, the poor lady has perhaps earned for
herself a chastisement with a stick later in the evening.

Human nature is pretty much the same in the Orient as anywhere else; the
degradation of woman to a position beneath her proper level has borne
its legitimate fruits; the average Turkish woman is said to be as coarse
and unchaste in her conversation as the lowest outcasts of Occidental
society, and is given to assailing her lord and master, when angry, with
language anything but choice.

It is hardly six o'clock when I issue forth next morning, but there are
at least fifty women congregated in the cemetery, alongside which my
route leads. During the night they seem to have made up their minds to
grasp the only opportunity of "seeing the elephant" by witnessing my
departure; and as, "when a woman will she will," etc., applies to Turkish
ladies as well as to any others, in their laudable determination not to
be disappointed they have been patiently squatting among the gray
tombstones since early dawn. The roadway is anything but smooth,
nevertheless one could scarce be so dead to all feelings of commiseration
as to remain unmoved by the sight of that patiently waiting crowd of
shrouded females; accordingly I mount and pick my way along the street
and out of town. Modest as is this performance, it is the most marvellous
thing they have seen for many a day; not a sound escapes them as I wheel
by, they remain as silent as though they were the ghostly population of
the graveyard they occupy, for I which, indeed, shrouded as they are in
white from head to foot, they might easily be mistaken by the superstitious.
My road leads over an undulating depression between the higher hills, a
region of small streams, wheat-fields, and irrigating ditches, among
which several trails, leading from Tereklu to numerous villages scattered
among the mountains and neighboring small valleys, make it quite difficult
to keep the proper road. Once I wander off my proper course for several
miles; finding out my mistake I determine upon regaining the Torbali
trail by a short cut across the stubble-fields and uncultivated knolls
of scrub oak. This brings me into an acquaintanceship with the shepherds
and husbandmen, and the ways of their savage dogs, that proves more
lively than agreeable. Here and there I find primitive threshing-floors;
they are simply spots of level ground selected in a central position and
made smooth and hard by the combined labors of the several owners of the
adjoining fields, who use them in common. Rain in harvest is very unusual;
therefore the trouble and expense of covering them is considered
unnecessary. At each of these threshing-centres I find a merry gathering
of villagers, some threshing out the grain, others winnowing it by tossing
it aloft with wooden, flat-pronged forks; the wind blows the lighter
chaff aside, while the grain falls back into the heap. When the soil is
sandy, the grain is washed in a neighboring stream to take out most of
the grit, and then spread out on sheets, in the sun to dry before being
finally stored away in the granaries. The threshing is done chiefly by
the boys and women, who ride on the same kind of broad sleigh-runner-shaped
boards described in European Turkey.

The sight of my approaching figure is, of course, the signal for a general
suspension of operations, and a wondering as to what sort of being I am.
If I am riding along some well-worn by-trail, the women and younger
people invariably betray their apprehensions of my unusual appearance,
and seldom fail to exhibit a disposition to flee at my approach, but the
conduct of their dogs causes me not a little annoyance. They have a noble
breed of canines throughout the Angora goat country - fine animals, as
large as Newfoundlands, with a good deal the appearance of the mastiff;
and they display their hostility to my intrusion by making straight at
me, evidently considering me fair game. These dogs are invaluable friends,
but as enemies and assailants they are not exactly calculated to win a
'cycler's esteem. In my unusual appearance they see a strange, undefinable
enemy bearing down toward their friends and owners, arid, like good,
faithful dogs, they hesitate not to commence the attack; sometimes there
is a man among the threshers and winnowers who retains presence of mind
enough to notice the dogs sallying forth to attack me, and to think of
calling them back; but oftener I have to defend myself as best I can,
while the gaping crowd, too dumfounded and overcome at my unaccountable
appearance to think of anything else, simply stare as though expecting
to see me sail up into space out of harm's way, or perform some other
miraculous feat. My general tactics are to dismount if riding, and
manoeuvre the machine- so as to keep it between myself and my savage
assailant if there be but one; and if more than one, make feints with
it at them alternately, not forgetting to caress them with a handy stone
whenever occasion offers. There is a certain amount of cowardice about
these animals notwithstanding their size and fierceness; they are afraid
and suspicious of the bicycle as of some dreaded supernatural object;
atnd although I am sometimes fairly at my wit's end to keep them at bay,
I manage to avoid the necessity of shooting any of them. I have learned
that to kill one of these dogs, no matter how great the provocation,
would certainly get me into serious trouble with the natives, who value
them very highly and consider the wilful killing of one little short of
murder; hence my forbearance. When I arrive at a threshing-floor, and
it is discovered that I am actually a human being and do not immediately
encompass the destruction of those whose courage has been equal to
awaiting my arrival, the women and children who have edged off to some
distance now approach, quite timidly though, as if not quite certain of
the prudence of trusting their eyesight as to the peaceful nature of my
mission; and the men vie with each other in their eagerness to give me
all desired information about my course; sometimes accompanying me a
considerable distance to make sure of guiding me aright. But their
contumacious canine friends seem anything but reassured of my character
or willing to suspend hostilities; in spite of the friendly attitude of
their masters and the peacefulness of the occasion generally, they make
furtive dashes through the ranks of the spectators at me as I wheel round
the small circular threshing-floor, and savagely snap at the revolving
wheels. Sometimes, after being held in check until I am out of sight
beyond a knoll, these vindictive and determined assailants will sneak
around through the fields, and, overtaking me unseen, make stealthy
onslaughts upon me from the brush; my only safety is in unremitting
vigilance. Like the dogs of most semi-civilized peoples, they are but
imperfectly trained to obey; and the natives dislike checking them in
their attacks upon anybody, arguing that so doing interferes with the
courage and ferocity of their attack when called upon for a legitimate
occasion.

It is very questionable, to say the least, if inoffensive wayfarers
should be expected to quietly submit to the unprovoked attack of ferocious
animals large enough to tear down a man, merely in view of possibly
checking their ferocity at some other time. When capering wildly about
in an unequal contest with three or four of these animals, while conscious
of having the means at hand to give them all their quietus, one feels
as though he were at that particular moment doing as the Romans do, with
a vengeance; nevertheless, it has to be borne, and I manage to come
through with nothing worse than a rent in the leg of my riding trousers.
Finally, after fording several small streams, giving half a dozen
threshing-floor exhibitions, and running the gauntlet of no end of warlike
canines, I reach the lost Torbali trail, and, find it running parallel
with a range of hills, intersecting numberless small streams, across
which are sometimes found precarious foot-bridges consisting of a tree-
trunk felled across it from bank to bank, the work of some enterprising
peasant for his own particular benefit rather than the outcome of public
spirit. Occasionally I bowl merrily along stretches of road which nature
and the caravans together have made smooth enough even to justify a
spurt; but like a fleeting dream, this favorable locality passes to the
rearward, and is followed by another mountain-slope whose steep grade
and rough surface reads " trundle only."

They seem the most timid people hereabout I ever saw. Few of them but
show unmistakable signs of being frightened at my approach, even when I
am trundling-the nickel-plate glistening in the sunlight, I think,
inspires them with awe even at a distance - and while climbing this hill
I am the innocent cause of the ignominious flight of a youth riding a
donkey. While yet two hundred yards away, he reins up and remains
transfixed for one transitory moment, as if making sure that his eyes
are not deceiving him, or that he is really awake, and then hastily turns
tail and bolts across the country, belaboring his long-eared charger
into quite a lively gallop in his wild anxiety to escape from my awe-
inspiring presence; and as he vanishes across a field, he looks back
anxiously to reassure himself that I am not giving chase. Ere kind friends
and thoughtful well-wishers, with all their warnings of danger, are three
days' journey behind, I find myself among people who run away at my
approach. Shortly afterward I observe this bold donkey-rider half a mile
to the left, trying to pass me and gain my rear unobserved. Others whom
I meet this forenoon are more courageous; instead of resorting to flight,
they keep boldly on their general course, simply edging off to a respectful
distance from my road; some even venture to keep the road, taking care
to give me a sufficiently large margin over and above my share of the
way to insure against any possibility of giving offence; while others
will even greet me with a feeble effort to smile, and a timid, hesitating
look, as if undecided whether they are not venturing too far. Sometimes
I stop and ask these lion-hearted specimens whether I am on the right
road, when they give a hurried reply and immediately take themselves
off, as if startled at their own temerity. These, of course, are lone
individuals, with no companions to bolster up their courage or witness
their cowardice; the conduct of a party is often quite the reverse.
Sometimes they seem determined not to let me proceed without riding for
them, whether rocky ridge, sandy depression, or mountain-slope characterizes
our meeting-place, and it requires no small stock of forbearance and
tact to get away from them without bringing on a serious quarrel. They
take hold of the machine whenever I attempt to leave them, and give me
to understand that nothing but a compliance with their wishes will secure
my release; I have known them even try the effect of a little warlike
demonstration, having vague ideas of gaining their object by intimidation;
and this sort of thing is kept up until their own stock of patience is
exhausted, or until some more reasonable member of the company becomes
at last convinced that it really must be "mimkin deyil, " after all;
whereupon they let me go, ending the whole annoying, and yet really
amusing, performance by giving me the most minute particulars of the
route ahead, and parting in the best of humor. To lose one's temper on
these occasions, or to attempt to forcibly break away, is quickly
discovered to be the height of folly; they themselves are brimful of
good humor, and from beginning to end their countenances are wreathed
in smiles; although they fairly detain me prisoner the while, they would
never think of attempting any real injury to either myself or the bicycle.
Some of the more enterprising even express their determination of trying
to ride the machine themselves; but I always make a firm stand against
any such liberties as this; and, rough, half-civilized fellows though
they often are, armed, and fully understanding the advantage of numbers,
they invariably yield this point when they find me seriously determined
not to allow it. Descending into a narrow valley, I reach a road-side
khan, adjoining a thrifty-looking melon-garden - this latter a welcome
sight, since the day is warm and sultry; and a few minutes' quiet, soulful
communion with a good ripe water-melon, I think to myself, will be just
about the proper caper to indulge in after being worried with dogs,
people, small streams, and unridable hills since six o'clock. "Carpoose
?" I inquire, addressing the proprietor of the khan, who issues forth
from the stable.

" Peefci, effendi," he answers, and goes off to the garden for the melon.
Smiling sweetly at vacancy, in joyous anticipation of the coming feast
and the soothing influence I feel sure of its exerting upon my feelings,
somewhat ruffled by the many annoyances of the morning, I seek a quiet,
shady corner, thoughtfully loosening my revolver-belt a couple of notches
ere sitting down. In a minute the khan-jee returns, and hands me a
"cucumber" about the size of a man's forearm.

"That isn't a carpoose; I want a carpoose-a su carpoose." I explain.

"Su carpoose, yoke" he replies; and as I have not yet reached that
reckless disregard of possible consequences to which I afterward attain,
I shrink from tempting Providence by trying conclusions with the overgrown
and untrustworthy cucumber; so bidding the khan-jee adieu, I wheel off
down the valley. I find a fair proportion of good road along this valley;
the land is rich, and though but rudely tilled, it produces wonderfully
heavy crops of grain when irrigated. Small villages, surrounded by
neglected-looking orchards and vineyards, abound at frequent intervals.
Wherever one finds an orchard, vineyard, or melon-patch, there is also
almost certain to be seen a human being evidently doing nothing but
sauntering about, or perhaps eating an unripe melon.

This naturally creates an unfavorable impression upon a traveller's mind;
it means either that the kleptomaniac tendencies of the people necessitate
standing guard over all portable property, or that the Asiatic follows
the practice of hovering around all summer, watching and waiting for
nature to bestow her blessings upon his undeserving head. Along this
valley I meet a Turk and his wife bestriding the same diminutive donkey,
the woman riding in front and steering their long-eared craft by the
terror of her tongue in lieu of a bridle. The fearless lady halts her
steed as I approach, trundling my wheel, the ground being such that
riding is possible but undesirable. "What is that for, effendi."
inquires the man, who seems to be the more inquisitive of the two.
"Why, to bin, of course! don't you see the saddle?" says the woman, without
a moment's hesitation; and she bestows a glance of reproach upon her
worse half for thus betraying his ignorance, twisting her neck round in
order to send the glance straight at his unoffending head. This woman,
I mentally conclude, is an extraordinary specimen of her race; I never
saw a quicker-witted person anywhere; and I am not at all surprised to
find her proving herself a phenomenon in other things. When a Turkish
female meets a stranger on the road, and more especially a Frank, her
first thought and most natural impulse is to make sure that no part of
her features is visible - about other parts of her person she is less
particular. This remarkable woman, however, flings custom to the winds,
and instead of drawing the ample folds of her abbas about her, uncovers
her face entirely, in order to obtain a better view; and, being unaware
of my limited understanding, she begins discussing bicycle in quite a
chatty manner. I fancy her poor husband looks a trifle shocked at this
outrageous conduct of the partner of his joys and sorrows; but he remains
quietly and discreetly in the background; whereupon I register a silent
vow never more to be surprised at anything, for that long-suffering and
submissive being, the hen-pecked husband, is evidently not unknown even
in Asiatic Turkey.

Another mountain-pass now has to be climbed; it is only a short distance-
perhaps two miles - but all the way up I am subjected to the disagreeable
experience of having my footsteps dogged by two armed villagers. There
is nothing significant or exceptional about their being armed, it is
true; but what their object is in stepping almost on my heels for the
whole distance up the acclivity is beyond my comprehension. Uncertain
whether their intentions are honest or not, it is anything but reassuring
to have them following within sword's reach of one's back, especially
when trundling a bicycle up a lonely mountain-trail. I have no right to
order them back or forward, neither do I care to have them think I
entertain suspicions of their intentions, for in all probability they
are but honest villagers, satisfying their curiosity in their own peculiar
manner, and doubtless deriving additional pleasure from seeing one of
their fellow-mortals laboriously engaged while they leisurely follow.
We all know how soul-satisfying it is for some people to sit around and
watch their fellow-man saw wood. Whenever I halt for a breathing-spell
they do likewise; when I continue on, they promptly take up their line
of march, following as before in silence; and when the summit is reached,
they seat themselves on a rock and watch my progress down the opposite
slope.

A couple of miles down grade brings me to Torbali, a place of several
thousand inhabitants with a small covered bazaar and every appearance
of a thriving interior town, as thrift goes in Asia Minor. It is high
noon, and I immediately set about finding the wherewithal to make a
substantial meal. I find that upon arriving at one of these towns, the
best possible disposition to make of the bicycle is to deliver it into
the hands of some respectable Turk, request him to preserve it from the
meddlesome crowd, and then pay no further attention to it until ready
to start. Attempting to keep watch over it oneself is sure to result in
a dismal failure, whereas an Osmanli gray-beard becomes an ever-willing
custodian, regards its safe-keeping as appealing to his honor, and will
stand guard over it for hours if necessary, keeping the noisy and curious
crowds of his townspeople at a respectful distance "by brandishing a
thick stick at anyone who ventures to approach too near. These men will
never accept payment for this highly appreciated service, it seems to
appeal to the Osmanli's spirit of hospitality; they seem happy as clams
at high tide while gratuitously protecting my property, and I have known
them to unhesitatingly incur the displeasure of their own neighbors by
officiously carrying the bicycle off into an inner room, not even granting
the assembled people the harmless privilege of looking at it from a
distance - for there might be some among the crowd possessed of the fenna
ghuz (evil eye), and rather than have them fix their baleful gaze upon
the important piece of property left under his charge by a stranger, he
chivalrously braves the displeasure of his own people; smiling complacently
at their shouts of disapproval, he triumphantly bears it out of their
sight and from the fell influence of the possible fenna ghuz. Another
strange and seemingly paradoxical phase of these occasions is that when
the crowd is shouting out its noisiest protests against the withdrawal
of the machine from popular inspection, any of the protestors will eagerly
volunteer to help carry the machine inside, should the self-important
personage having it in custody condescend to make the slightest intimation
that such service would be acceptable. Handing over the bicycle, then,
to the safe-keeping of a respectable kahuay-jee (coffee khan employee)
I sally forth in quest of eatables. The kah vay-jee has it immediately
carried inside and set up on one of the divans, in which elevated position
he graciously permits it to be gazed upon by the people, who swarm into
his khan in such numbers as to make it impossible for him to transact
any business. "Under the guidance of another volunteer, who, besides
acting the part of guide, takes particular care that I get lumping weight,
etc., I proceed to the ett-jees and procure some very good mutton-chops,
and from there to the ekmek-jees for bread. This latter person straightway
volunteers to cook my chops. Sending to his residence for a tin dish,
some chopped onions and butter, he puts them in his oven, and in a few
minutes sets them before me, browned and buttered. Meanwhile, he has
despatched a youth somewhere on another errand, who now returns and
supplements the savory chops with a small dish of honey in the comb and
some green figs. Seated on the generous-hearted ekmek-jee's dough-board,
I make a dinner good enough for anybody.

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