Showing posts with label Uzbekistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uzbekistan. Show all posts

Friday, 9 October 2020

Along the Silk Road to Bukhara - by Lesley Downer

The sands of Oxus, toilsome though they be,
Beneath my feet were soft as silk to me.
Glad at the friend's return, the Oxus deep
Up to our girths in laughing waves shall leap.
Long live Bukhara! Be thou of good cheer!
Joyous towards thee hasteth our Amir! 

                                                                                Rudaki (859-941)
                                                                    translation by A. J. Arberry, 1958.
The Escher-like domes of Bukhara 

With the nights closing in and lockdown looming, I offer a trip on my magic carpet to anyone who yearns for escape to another time and another place. And who better to start our journey with than Bukhara’s great poet, Rudaki, who became the court poet and companion of the Samanid king and left a wonderful legacy of Persian verse?  
Ishmail Samani Mausoleum -
burial place of the Samanids

 
 
For a couple of thousand years, until the middle of the 18th century, a network of Silk Roads linked Europe to China, crisscrossing Persia and Central Asia and the lands to the north of India. One of these highways led through the great city of Bukhara, the capital of the emirate of Bukhara of which Samarkand was a part. Bukhara had long been a centre of trade, culture, scholarship and religion. It was Central Asia’s holiest city, legendary for its wealth and beauty. 

It was said that while elsewhere daylight shone down from the skies, it radiated up from Bokhara to illuminate the heavens.

Central Asia’s Holiest City
A thousand years ago, when Anglo-Saxon bards were telling the tale of Beowulf and a Japanese court lady was composing The Tale of Genji, Islam was enjoying its Golden Age. Bukhara, under the rule of the Samanid dynasty (819 to 999), was the intellectual centre of the Islamic world.

The Samanids were patrons of scholarship and scholars. Bukhara was home to many of the greatest figures of the age - the brilliant court poet Rudaki (859-941), famous as a musician, player of the chang (harp) and declaimer of verse; Firdausi (940-1020), also spelt Ferdowsi, author of Iran’s epic poem, the Shahnameh or Book of Kings; and Ibn Sina (981-1037), known in English as Avicenna, physician, astronomer, thinker and author of seminal medical tracts.
Jester in Bukhara


In the years that followed Bukhara’s fortunes rose and fell. In 1220 Genghis Khan besieged the city for 15 days. He conquered it but spared the populace. Then in 1260 Marco Polo’s father and uncle stayed three years and learnt Tartar (Mongol). Eventually they went to Cathay and met Kublai Khan.

In the nineteenth century Bukhara was still the holiest city in Muslim Central Asia. To Europeans it was a mysterious but alluring place surrounded by a natural barrier of mile upon mile of impassable desert. It was the Emir’s capital from where he ruled over a kingdom almost the size of the British Isles.

The British arrive

George IV was on the throne when the first British caravan arrived in Bukhara in February 1825. They had travelled from northern British India across the Khyber Pass to the Oxus and across desert lands which snow had turned into quagmire, only to discover to their chagrin that the Russians had got there before them. One of these Russians, the German-born Dr Eversmann, had infiltrated the capital in disguise and reported among much else that in this city ‘all the horrors and abominations of Sodom and Gomorrah’ were being practised. Besides his harem the Emir had the ‘services of forty or fifty degraded beings,’ he wrote. Things went on which ‘even in Constantinople’ were taboo. 

The mammoth walls of the Ark, the Emir's palace

Alexander Burnes - later famous as Bukhara Burnes - arrived on June 27 1832. He visited the Grand Vizier at the Ark, the Emir’s fortress palace. He described him as a wizened old man with small crafty eyes and a long grey beard. Burnes was a charmer and got on well with the vizier who saw him as an invaluable source of information about the outside world. Burnes saw the minaret from which criminals were hurled to their deaths and visited the square in front of the Ark where beheadings were conducted with a huge knife. He also went to the slave market where ‘these poor wretches are exposed for sale and occupy thirty or forty stalls where they are examined like cattle.’ When he left the vizier asked him to bring him back a good pair of English glasses if he ever returned. Burnes’ three volume Travels into Bokhara, published in 1834, introduced the romance, magic and mystery of Central Asia to the British reader. 


 

Things did not always go well for the British in Bukhara.
A year after Queen Victoria came to the throne, on December 17th 1838, a daunty Englishman called Colonel Charles Stoddart rode through Bukhara’s great gates. He had been sent by the East India Company to try and forge an alliance with the Emir against the Russians, whom the British were convinced would storm across barren steppes, bandit-infested deserts and impassable mountain ranges down into British India and capture it if they weren’t held back. 

Nasrullah Khan 

Rather foolishly Stoddart arrived in full regimental uniform and didn’t even bother to get off his horse in the presence of the Emir, Nasrullah Khan, who had also heard rumours that he was a spy. He immediately had him arrested and thrown into a twenty foot deep pit known as the Black Hole, to which a rope was the only means of access and which he shared with three criminals and an assortment of vermin. 

Three years passed. Then on November 10th 1841 Captain Arthur Conolly arrived to try and negotiate his release. He too ended up in the Black Hole. Finally the two were executed in the grand square in front of the Ark.

In 1868 Russian troops captured the kingdom of Bukhara. It remained under Russian, then Soviet rule until the break up of the Soviet Union and became part of Uzbekistan when the country was given its independence.

Beautiful Bukhara
Of all Uzbekistan’s Silk Road cities, Bukhara most retains the flavour of its past. The city is full of domes of pink brick, built in geometrical designs like M.C.Escher’s drawings. You can ramble the lanes and explore the bazaars, lined with stalls selling silks, fabrics, goods from all the neighbouring countries - Afghanistan, Kazakhstan - or heaped with spices, filling the air with the scent of cumin. At the centre of the city is the Kalyan Minaret which dates from 1127, so tall that when Genghis Khan put his head back to look at it, his helmet fell off and he decided to spare it.
Kalyan Minaret 

You can gaze up in wonder at the Ark, a mammoth fortress whose formidable concave mud walls are impossible to climb. It broods over the city still, as it did in the days when Stoddart and Conolly met their end. You can even see a replica of the prison cell where they were incarcerated. The heart of the town is Lyabi Hauz pond, shaded by mulberry trees, where people sit all day drinking tea out of blue and white ceramic cups.

By pure chance we managed to arrive just as the city was celebrating the annual Silk and Spice Festival. People had come in from miles around, all dressed in their best. Musicians played lutes, fiddles, tambourines and drums, singers belted out folk songs, dancers undulated with intricate hand movements and a jester in a multi-coloured coat pranced about. The crowd raised their arms and danced too while an old man in a white turban leaned on a stick, observing. 

The moon's the prince, Bukhara is the sky;
O Sky, the Moon shall light thee by and by!
Bukhara is the Mead, the Cypress he;
Receive at last, O Mead, thy Cypress tree! 

One of Bukhara's many bazaars 


From Bukhara the Silk Road traveller went on to Samarkand, which I’ll tell you about in my next post.

For the whole thrilling story of the opening of Central Asia, please read The Great Game by Peter Hopkirk - a wonderful book.

Lesley Downer is a lover of all things Asian and an inveterate traveller. She is the author of many books on Japan, including The Shogun’s Queen, an epic tale of love and death, out now in paperback. For more, much more, see https://www.lesleydowner.com/

The picture of Nasrullah Khan is courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. All other pictures are mine.







Saturday, 19 October 2013

Hallowe’en versus Trick or Treat + the answer re my September objects in the Cabinet of Curiosities



Theresa Breslin

The ancient festival of Samhain, possibly from old Gaelic meaning Summer’s End, was held on November 1st as, traditionally, the first day of Winter. It was meant to coincide with the final day of the Harvest, although, due to varying weather conditions, this might not have been true in fact. In addition to marking the end the natural year of growing for all living things it also commemorated the passing of human souls from this world. When tradition melded with Christianity it became the modern day Feast of All Hallows (All Saints) 

And so, the day before this feast, the ‘eve’ (October 31st) was All Hallows Eve = Hallowe’en. Not a modern invention then, but an ancient Celtic festival with a mixture of the pious and the pagan. Even now, old beliefs persist that on Hallowe’en the veil between the living and the dead is more easily drawn aside. On this ‘Feast of the Dead’ spirits may walk abroad and therefore, if you must be out and about, ‘tis best to adopt a disguise…     

When I was young we called it ‘guising’ – going out in disguise – and we did this with great enthusiasm every Hallowe’en. Trick or Treat it definitely wasn’t. And even today in Scotland the children generally do not beg and do not play tricks. It’s more a case of trawling the houses of neighbours, friends and relatives where, before any loot is collected, you must provide a simple entertainment.  

Sing a Song,
Say a Poem,
Do a Dance, or,
Tell a Joke.

Props and prompting are allowed. I laughed out loud one year when a boy came into my house and proceeded to read his jokes out from a book that was overdue from the library where I worked! 

Excitement built up from early October when decisions re costumes had to be made. None of this shop-bought stuff or an e-bay effort. Pah! We made our own – well I did when young and for my kids too. One year I had to stuff a dozen or so rats and attach them to a string so that they could trail after the Pied Piper as she went along our street. There was a memorable Rubik’s Cube. A unique idea I thought, as I measured, cut, glued and dried globby strips of painted squares with a hairdryer. I sent my son off to the Scouts Hallowe’en Party with high hopes of a prize, only to be downcast when he returned disconsolately, announcing that there had been five other Rubik’s Cubes present!
 
And yes the adults join in, not actually going door to door looking for sweets and nuts and tangerines, but decorating the house and dressing up in the general spirit of having fun. I managed to find a pic of me in my famous Princess Leia costume. If you look closely you’ll  see the two large safety pins on each shoulder holding together the white bedsheet. Some brown wool plaited, twisted round into her famous ‘earphones’ hairstyle and  skewered to the side of my head, a pair of white leggings scissored in two and pulled on over long boots, a borrowed light sabre, and I was good to go. On that occasion I was accompanied by a rather scruffy coal miner – note the historical accuracy of the miner’s safety lamp and the rat-proof ‘piece’ tin hanging from his belt and also his trouser legs tied in nicky-tams.

Every year we played the same games. My mother would smear thick treacle on scones and hang them on strings from the kitchen pulley from where, hands behind backs, we tried to snatch bites. Dooking for apples in a basin, then slicing it in half across to reveal the  pentagram shape inside. If you put this 'star' under your pillow you’d dream of your true love. Or you might peel the apple trying to keep the peel in one continuous piece. Then you stood with the moon shining over your right shoulder and threw the peel over your left shoulder. When it lands it will form the shape of the initial letter of the person you will marry. Hopefully the same person you dreamed about, if you were using two apples! I guess these customs date back to when signs and portents were commonly used to foretell the future.    

An indication of our times is that now an adult will accompany children as they go about the local streets. It’s a family night to enjoy and the children know the rules - out at dusk, only approach houses where you know the occupants and where porch lights are lit and curtains are open, and safe home by 9pm.

Happy Hallowe’en everybody!  

And now the answer to the puzzle from last month’s Blog re the Cabinet of Curiosities:

The two objects pictured are hand made from wood. They were integral to Uzbek family life as far back as anyone can recall and are still in use, mainly outwith the towns and cities. Although used separately their purpose is the same. 
 
Thanks to those who sent their suggestions – one person did deduce their use. Not a ball & string game, nor anything to do with sewing, knitting or weaving, and less opium pipes than ‘peeing pipes’. In some areas of Uzbekistan young babies are tightly swaddled and the small wooden tube is positioned in the appropriate place. The design of the pipe chosen depends on whether its for a boy baby or a girl baby. We saw cradles for sale in the markets where a hole had been drilled through the base to allow the urine to run through into a small pot sitting below.

Well done Ann Ward who scored a hit with her suggestion!!   

Photographs  © SCARPA


LATEST BOOKS
The Traveller  (from dyslexia friendly publisher Barrington Stoke)
Divided City   Playscript now available.

Thursday, 19 September 2013

Stories from along the Great Silk Road and two objects for the Cabinet of Curiosities



Theresa Breslin

We’ve had a wonderful summer - we can’t often say that it Scotland – and now it looks set to be a glorious autumn. I’m feeling very buoyant and thought that I’d include special items in this month’s post. There is a story for you and also two objects for the Cabinet of Curiosities - these give you a puzzle to solve.

But first you have to read the Blog… 

It was a big dream of mine to travel along the Great Silk Road. I’d thought about it ever since reading the adventures of Marco Polo when I was about twelve years old, and hearing my father recite Coleridge’s magnificent poem that begins:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

And so, injected with medically prescribed health-protecting substances, fortified by various vitamins, weighed down with a skip load of anti-diarrhoea tablets and carrying a packet of Jacob’s cream crackers (proven on my various research trips in the past to be the best sustenance for a gippy tummy), plus a large sun hat, off I went to cross the desert and travel through Uzbekistan.

Land of the Khans, of the mighty Timur, the warrior known as Tamerlane, who crushed the Golden Horde; meeting place of ancient nations and empires, with a fabulously rich history, Uzbekistan is a truly unforgettable country. From the spice market in Samarkand to the desert fortress of Khiva via the caravanserai and trading domes of Bukhara, it was crammed with breathtaking architecture, home to the most hospitable and friendly people, and bubbling with stories and legends. 

Image Copyright Scarpa
Possibly the most famous collection of anecdotes and jokes are those of  Hoja Nasreddin. 

Many countries claim to be the birthplace of this storyteller and trickster, but his tales display the natural wisdom of common folk with themes that transcend national boundaries. 

He is part philosopher, part comedian, part buffoon.



 
Often the story has a twist in the tail where the
seemingly weaker character gets the better of 
the bully or a rich or pompous person. 

Bookshops in Bukhara and the newsagent stands 
on the streets of Samarkand sell little booklets with 
selections of the many hundreds of tales attributed to him.   


Years ago I wrote a twist-in-the-tail historical story about a traveller lost in the desert which is in the collection Through Sand, Snow and Steam but the one that came to me after travelling across the Kyzyl Kum desert has a tale within a tale, part of which is based on a true and shocking story from that region. You can read On the Shoulders of Others here, or download it, free of charge.  

Image Copyright Scarpa

In one of the Trading Domes a stallholder became interested in the notebook and pen I carried. I made him a gift of them and, in return, he presented me with a tiny portrait of Hoja Nasreddin on his donkey, beautifully hand-crafted from camel skin. 

The Storytelling Sage is positioned near my desk, from where he keeps a mischievous eye on my writing. 




Finally, the puzzle of the Cabinet of Curiosities:
 
Image Copyright Scarpa

The two objects pictured are hand made from wood. They were integral to Uzbek family life as far back as anyone can recall and are still in use, mainly outwith the towns and cities. Although used separately their purpose is the same. 

You can post a Comment here or Tweet or Facebook me your ideas as to what they might be.
I'll be mightily impressed if you can work out their use without recourse to the Internet. 

I might not reply immediately. By the time this Blog is up I hope to be in Petra – probably the subject of a future post…. 

Photographs  © SCARPA


LATEST BOOKS
The Traveller  (from dyslexia friendly publisher Barrington Stoke)
Divided City   Playscript now available.