Part 9 (1/2)
I believe the word ”steppes” is given to that undulating but level country in the provinces of Ufa and Orenburg, about two days' and two nights' journey by train east of Moscow, inhabited by the Bashkirs, the descendants of those Tartar hordes who nearly overwhelmed Russia at one time, and possibly Europe itself, and were called for their relentless cruelty ”the Scourge of G.o.d.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Consecration of Burial Ground in the Siberian Steppes._ (See page 178.)]
They are a fierce-looking race, even now, though peaceable enough, and it seems strange to find them so near to Moscow still, and to see them at their devotions when driving past their mosques on a Friday. They are great agriculturists, and a delightful sight is presented by their vast tracts of tender green wheat and oats shooting up as soon as the winter is over, and even while, in out-of-the-way hollows, snow still remains.
The earth is black and very rich in character, and the seed, sown often before the end of September, lies nearly seven months under the protecting and fertilizing snow. As soon as this has gone and spring comes, the young crops shoot up with amazing speed and strength. Late frosts are terrible disasters, of course, under such circ.u.mstances.
But the _real_ steppes, which resemble the veldt of Africa, or the pampas of South, and the prairie of North America, are those vast level plains, partly agricultural, partly pasture, and partly scrub and sand, which lie another day and night still further east, and extend for thousands of miles to the south till they reach nearly to the borders of Turkestan. These are the steppes I know best. There is also a pastoral steppe of large extent and of agricultural character just above the Black Sea.
If the reader will refer to the map he will see what a huge portion even of the great country of Siberia is taken up by the Kirghiz Steppes, and as they are extraordinarily rich in minerals, so far as one can judge from enterprises already successfully started, produce large crops, and sustain innumerable flocks and herds, it will be seen how much they are likely to count for in the progress of Russia. The Kirghiz, familiarly called the ”Ks” in the mining camps, are a Tartar race, like the Bashkirs, and, like them also in religion, are Mohammedans; but while I saw mosques amongst the Bashkirs filled with praying congregations, I never saw either mosque or prayers amongst the Kirghiz, nor their women veiled. They are small in stature, very strongly built, rather like the j.a.panese, and splendid hors.e.m.e.n. A Kirghiz when mounted seems part of his horse as he dashes across the steppes at full speed with the merest apology for reins and bit, ready to pull up in the twinkling of an eye.
They struck me always as very friendly, though I have read that others have not found them so.
That they are very hospitable every one admits. A traveller, it is said, can go thousands of miles across the steppes without a rouble in his pocket, and want for nothing. Everywhere he will be hospitably entertained. A Russian, of course, asks nothing better than to have a guest, and considers himself honoured in being asked to take him in for a meal or for the night; and the Kirghiz are Eastern in their reception of guests as well.
In the steppes governments of Ufa, Orenburg, and Akmolinsk the population must be nearly seven millions, of which the great majority are the nomadic Kirghiz, living in tents in the summer, and taking their flocks and herds away to the south and into villages, where they can have roofs and walls during the seven months--at least!--of terrible winter.
The tent is a most comfortable abode, though not much to look at from outside. It has a wooden floor, with a rug or skins upon it, is circular in its area, but has no pole of any kind, being built up very neatly and ingeniously upon a framework of canes and laths until it is in shape like a well-spread-out low and evenly-rounded haystack. It has a movable top in its centre, which affords ample ventilation. Inside it is lined with felt, which has often prettily embroidered draperies fastened upon it; and outside the canework it is well covered over with stout canvas securely lashed into its place. It will be seen that no obstacle is presented to the strong winds which continually blow over the steppes, as there are no ”corners” such as are spoken of in Job i. 14, which shows us that tents were raised upon four poles in early Israelitish days as they are still amongst the Bedouin tribes of North Africa and Arabia.
The beautifully and symmetrically rounded _uerta_, as the Kirghiz tent is called, receives every wind that sweeps over it, and never makes the slightest movement. At least twenty people could be, and often are, gathered inside when some festivity is afoot, though each family as a rule has its own tent. They are extremely attractive, and when I once went to see an American family, engaged in preliminary mining work, I found them with one of these tents for their living-room, set up with sideboard, dining-table, easy-chairs, etc., and another opposite to it fitted up as a most comfortable bedroom with bra.s.s beds and all the usual furniture, the little cookhouse also being not far away. Breathing in the marvellous air of the steppes, I thought I had never seen the ”simple life” presented in a more alluring form. I have longed, indeed, ever since to have a month of it some time, and get as close to Mother Nature as it is possible to do in these busy days.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Outside a Kirghiz Uerta._]
The descendants of Jonadab knew what they were about, and what was good for them, when they determined to keep to their pastoral life, and hold on to all their tent-dwelling traditions; and as for wine, no one need ever feel the need of such a stimulant in the invigorating air of those great plains.
Amongst the Kirghiz one feels an extraordinarily biblical atmosphere, and is back again in the days of Abraham and the patriarchs, and the ”women in the tent,” of whom Jael sang after the great victory. The men are attired much as Isaac and Ishmael, and Jacob and Esau were, and the women very probably keep the traditions of thousands of years in wearing their pretty nun-like head-dresses of white, which leave their pleasant faces free and uncovered.
These Kirghiz hardly ever use money. They grow ”rich in many flocks and herds,” and if they sold would immediately buy again. Some of them, however, are very well off, and I was told that one, who lived simply with his wife in a _uerta_ on the steppes, had sent his only son to complete his education in Paris, and get a medical degree at its University. For this he would have to sell off some of the increase of his flock, and send the proceeds to his son.
Let me now explain how I came to be amongst these tent-dwelling folk at all. During my first visit to Petrograd I was asked one evening by a member of the Russia Company if I could appoint a chaplain to go out to Siberia once a year or so, and visit the scattered little groups of our own countrymen who are there, but, at that time, had never seen a clergyman nor had a service since coming into the country.
”There are unbaptized,” he said, ”and unconfirmed, and even those who need to be married with the service of their Church, who through no fault of their own, but through circ.u.mstances, have had to go without it. There are people who have been in Siberia all their lives, and some who have been there forty and fifty years, and never once had any ministration of their Church. Can nothing be done?”
This, of course, was a strong and direct appeal, and, after considering for a short time, it seemed impossible to appoint a chaplain for work of which one knew nothing, and so I proposed to go myself, which I found later was what it was hoped and expected that I should do. Accordingly in 1912 and again in 1913 I carried out this intention, and found that it practically took the form of a Mining Camp Mission; for, though I visited one or two other British communities, yet the most interesting part of both years' experiences was in going to the mines situated, except in one case, in the very heart of the steppes. Each, though employing thousands of Kirghiz and Russians, is managed by a British staff of between twenty and thirty, and is the property of a British company with its board of directors meeting in its offices in London.
I will describe two of these journeys, for without knowing something of the steppes and of those who live there, and indeed taking in something of their spirit, it is impossible to feel that one really knows Russia.
Four days and nights from Moscow brings one to Petropavlosk (Peter and Paul's town), and it is from there, in a southerly direction at first, and then heading towards the east, that the great Spa.s.sky Copper Mine is reached, for which a drive of a thousand miles, there and back, is necessary. I had not realized till just before I set out that I should have to drive on day and night without stopping for anything but food and to change horses, as there were no Russian rest-houses on that route, and the Kirghiz tents were impossible owing to the great number of living beings, other than human, which inhabited them. It was no light thing to undertake, as it meant leaving on Tuesday and getting in late on Sat.u.r.day evening, and this only if all went well. Some people can sleep under such conditions during the night. I don't know how they possibly can, for there are no roads in any true sense of the word, and none of the vehicles which cross them have springs.
The manager of the mine had kindly sent down the usual _taranta.s.s_, which, hooded like a victoria, is a very stout cart, lashed securely upon poles, and drawn by three horses or _troika_. There is no seat inside, but hay is placed over the bottom, and pillows and cus.h.i.+ons on the top, and there one reclines during the day, and lies down at night.
It all sounds very comfortable and even luxurious, but as there are no roads, and only the roughest of tracks with fearful ruts and soft places where water lingers, with sometimes a sloping bank down to a stream, and, as the wild driver keeps his horses at their full speed, one is hurled violently and roughly about the whole time, sleep, for me at least, is beyond my wildest hopes from start to finish.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Taranta.s.s with its Troika for the Steppes._]
For the first day or so I had the greatest difficulty to avoid biting my tongue in two as I was thrown about and it came between my teeth, and I used to look with amazement and envy at my Kirghiz conductor, on the box beside the driver, swaying about in all directions like a tree in a hurricane, but sound asleep. His name was Mamajam, and on our arrival he brought his little daughter Fatima to see me, and another youth named Abdullah, completing the Arabian Nights impression he had already given me.
There is no regularity in the arrangements for changing horses along the steppes. Sometimes one would drive about twenty _versts_ (twelve and a half miles) and then change, while at others we would go on as far as sixty, or even eighty, _versts_ (fifty miles) without any change at all.
The horses are very strong and hardy, and are never allowed either food or drink until the journey is over; and, with the horses, the driver is changed also, as every man brings and understands his own. It was a wonderful study in character, temperament, and dress, for the men were extraordinarily different from each other, though all most attractive and interesting; the Kirghiz more so than the one or two Russians we had.
We carried our food, chiefly tinned, with us, but there was an abundance of eggs, b.u.t.ter, and white bread always to be got, and, most welcome sight, always the steaming _samovar_, with its promise of cheering and comforting tea. It is astonis.h.i.+ng how one's ordinary food can be cut down in quant.i.ty when necessary. We gradually came down to two meals a day, and on the return journey these only consisted of eggs, bread and b.u.t.ter, and tea; and yet the simple life and magnificent air made one feel always extraordinarily fit and well and in good spirits.
The steppes, though vast solitudes as far as human habitations are concerned, are full of life and movement, and the most is made of the short summer. Caravans are continually meeting the traveller as he goes south or north, or crossing his route from east to west, or west to east, carrying tea from China, timber and other articles of commerce, travellers from town to town, or from one village to another, or a little band of colonists seeking land upon which to settle, or herdsmen in charge of sheep, oxen, or horses. Perhaps one's driver catches sight of another _troika_ going in the same direction, and with a shrill cry urges on his team; the other, nothing loath, joins in, and for a quarter of an hour there is a most thrilling race. There is never a dull moment night or day, though perhaps the most inspiring times are those when one has just changed horses, and has a wild young Kirghiz on the box who, seeing an opportunity of showing off, stands up whirling his whip and, shrieking, yelling, whistling, like a demon, urges his horses to their utmost speed, making the dust and earth fly in all directions. It makes one feel that it is good to be alive.