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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (July 28, 1912)
THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAX. PORTjLAJTD, JULY 28, 1912. Is The Cry Of (asrit I Born A Bc ?plian Women Weaker Sex Held Inferior to Men Widespread Ignorance and Superstition Bar to Progress Arrival of Female Child Deep Dis appointment to Family Mother Even Risks Favor of Husband by Such an Unwelcome Present affpwl """ .1 1 Kx V A i speiix vv wSy -s Tin! jtsfS? 'A rwfk - w1- " , j BT ANTfETTE HEINTCKE. rHIRAZ. July 17. (Special corres pondence.) "Why was I not born k ' a boy? Life would have been o much easier to bear!" Unhappy wo men. doomed to Inferiority from birth, are dally repeating- this complaint in every part of Persia, especially since echoes of the world-s progressive Ideas began to penetrate even, here. The least of all the problems will be settled when this country's dynastic future Is fixed up. for the greatest prob lem concerns the abject Ignorance of Its people In all the relations of life. Of education, as Westerners understand It. there Is none, and the widespread prevalence of superstition Impedes whatever spirit of progress may be started moving: from time to time. When a girl babe Is born, the ever age Persian household Is filled with dlsasDOlntment for the faith of Islam has .degraded women to a place little. superior to the cattle. The mother of a female Infant even runs the risk of being- Instantly turned from favor by her lord and master for making such an unwelcome addition to his family. Only by following the career of boy from his birth to his marriage can one obtain an adequate Idea of the characteristic life and peculiar social rites of the Persians, high or low. The birth of a boy Is always the signal for a great family feast, to which no parallel exists in Western lands. Sheep are slaughtered In honor of the event, and a banquet of great dishes of rice, plllans and chlllows is served up by the happy father to friends end rela tives. The new-born child is tightly swad dled up in clothes, his eyes painted with native cosmetics, his forehead adorned with a beauty spot, & colored handkerchief tightly bound round his head, while beads, coins and amulets gainst the evil eye are hung round his neck. In order that he may . have a straight figure when he grows up, he Is tightly strapped down to a flat board, shaped like his body. As soon as "the little Agha" Is able to walk, he becomes a very privileged person, indeed. In the harem, where he Is allowed to do Just as he pleases, his every whim being indulged. By con stant association with servants, the young hopeful of the Persian house hold learns the art of lying a uni versal accomplishment In the realm of the Shahs. When five or six years of age. he goes to the school kept by the local mullah In a corner of the mosque, and with the Koran as his lesson book, learns the alphabet. Writing is taught by means of a reed pen and Chinese Ink, and as paper is too expensive he uses a tin plate, from which the writ ing can be erased. During the reading lesson the mullah sits behind his pu pil enjoying his water pipe, while the boys sway to and fro to the rhythm of their sing-song recitation. After School Coni Idleness. The boy leaves school when he has finished his Koran, and loafs about, if his father can afford to keep him in lilleness, till lie Is married. The boys of the wealthier classes enjoy a few extra privileges, occasionally extending to the acquisition of foreign languages, but even then their tuition falls far short of the elementary education standards of the Western world. While the lad has been receiving all this paternal attention, his sister sel dom goes to school, and runs about wild and untended until she Is 9. At that ape she is transformed into a lit tle woman, wearing the chadar. a large black cloth garmen enveloping the whole figure, and beneath, the shalvar wide pantaloons drawn in round the ankles. Her face Is covered by the rouhband or long, narrow white veil, and over it. In front of the eyes, there Is a laced "window" to look through without being seen. Her whole time until she Is married is employed in enhancing her personal appearance by means of the cosmetics, paints and hair washes to be found In every anderoon, as the harem Is called. so that rumors of her beauty may get J $pi& ' w ' . K iff-- "TViV i if '7 '-Vt i -1 'frk Blvv AW.t ffv :A m Till 'x? ri tl fa M Ml-' -l-vlSv'i K -i l 1 - - t f 1 ft Kf S abroad and a husband be found while she Is still young. Marriages are arranged by trie par ents or relatives of the family, and young children are often betrothed among the hlgh-casto sections of Per sian society. Young men are never supposed to see the face of their be trothed during the betrothal period, but sometimes a mother manages to satisfy her son's not unnatural curi osity by giving a tea party and hiding him behind a curtain, from whence he can catch a glimpse of his future wife's face. When the marriage has been fixed up between the two families, the bridegroom-elect makes an offering of a Kashmir shawl or a diamond ring to the girl who has been chosen for him as his life's partner. The details ol the dowry, however, take a long time to negotiate, for Persians are shrowd at a deal and the rock-bottom price of love's young dream is not easy to as certain. Ready cash forms the most mportant part of a dowry which. In the case of well-to-do folk, also In cludes Jewelry, dresses, land, houses, flocks, horses, camels, sometimes slaves. and alway a beautifully bound copy of the Koran. Marriage Is Great Event, When all the preliminaries are fixed up to the satisfaction of both parties, the services of a mullah are engaged to determine the marriage day, which never falls In Moharram or Sofar, the two months of mourning, or in Ramadan. the month of fasting. The marriage always takes place near sunset and the attendant ceremonies continue for several days. On the first day of the fest, the Shirml Karan, the brldgeroom elect. accompanied by a throng of relatives and friends and a number of servants carrying trays of candy and fruits. goes to the house of the bride. The procession Is welcomed by music and dancing, the women, with the bride elect in their midst, watching the re ception from the flat roof of the anderoon. After she has been presented to her future husband by her father, the wed ding party, accompanied by the mul lah, adjourns to the largest reception room in the women's quarters, where jwj - '; I iSiacii" ' i us w m 7W Wvi. I U lis K fOTn 7V2srfos!em &z&2c As- CoZoss&.2 in the guests seat themselves round the wall. The room is divided by a cur- . J I..LI J I. ! . V- . 1. - -11 .lam, uciuuu vviiiuii iiio nuiucjij a... heavily veiled, take their seats. The mullah, standing at a parting in the curtains, asks the girl if she is will ing to accept the young man of her parents' selection as her husband. Si lence Is taken as a sign of acceptance. He Is interrogated In the same way, and the contract is then signed. The men retire to feast, while the women make merry in their own quarters. These rejoicings continue almost un interruptedly till the sixth or seventh day, when the Zefaf, or unveiling, takes place. The young bridegroom visits a public bath, where the attend ants put him through an elaborate toilet, shaving his head, staining his sidelocks, his hands and feet red; and only when evening approaches is he ready to return to his house to await his wife's coming. In the meantime, the women have been dressing her up in all her finery. The fashion of the Indoor dress was Introduced by Nasreddln Shah from Europe after he had first seen the bal let girls at the Paris opera. So well pleased was he with the attire of the Gallic nymphs that he dressed, all his wives in a similar costume, which speedily became the fashion all over the country. The wedding dress Is a clever elaboration 'of this style, with an abundance of variegated silks, sat ins and velvets. Misery May Become lot. Just before sunset the bride, who may be only 12 years old, is taken with much ceremony to her new abode, riding a richly caparisoned steed, and behind her In long array follows her dowry. This is contained In big red chests carried by mules with gay trap pings, and the longer the string of mules the greater talk there Is In the bazars about the wedding. This be ing the case, it often happens that many of the chests are empty. In the case of Persian parents whose social ambitions outrun the length of their IIS hill " III II WJ v 'Ah u sM"v'Vt5 L -"J LUne cfn-S 7 f ' purse. Men carrying huge white lan terns walk on each side of the proces sion, the Blow progress through the narrow streets being accompanied by the noise of guns, barbaric 4nuslc and shouting, while frequently a firework display Is also given at Intervals along the route. Arrived -at the bridegroom's house the procession halts while sheep are slaughtered, and the bride has to step across streams of Tunning blood, sup posed to bring her luck and happiness, as she enters her new home, where she is received by her husband, who In troduces her to the anderoon. After the long wedding Is over, about midnight, the mother of the bride leads her daughter to a private chamber, where, alone with her husband for the first time, she drops her veil to her a moment of tense anxiety, for If her lord and master Is not pleased wtth his bargain, she Is faced with long years of misery and degradation. It he Is displeased with her and. cannot afford the expense of a second mar riage, he is at liberty to take a pretty slave wherewith to console himself, for neither such promiscuous unions nor orthodox polygamy are prohibited by the Koran, though many Persians are satisfied with one wife. But one never sees married couples strolling out together in Persia, for the household arrangement, which al locates them separate quarters, divides them in public as well. Yet In spite of women's degraded position, the anderoon Is so inviolable that not even the law is powerful enough to force a way through its Jealously guarded por tals, where the Persian's "legal prop ty" Is hidden from prying eyes. . ... , , , ...0 r- , i . ; , . 1 HOW UN02 LOST 1 84 I BT CHARLES FORT. SIMON BOBBLES had ways of his own. so you must not be aston ished at anything done by him. Said Simon: "Ain't I the strange fel ler, thought I'm that set on traveling! I'd like to be in Denver, just to say I was there. I'd like to go oat to see Budd Lobe In San Francisco. I ain't got any use for Budd and he ain't any for me; but I'd like to go out Just to say I was there. I'd like to go to Washington. Don't care about the Capitol and wouldn't be bothered with the Monument: don't care about gen erals and senators; but Just want to say I was there." Simon made a discovery. Said he: "it costs money to travell" Simon was given to wisdom. Said he: "There's always ways of doln" things." And this was his way: The postman hastened from corner to corner, collecting mall. And there on a letter box sat Simon Bobbles, perched comfortably, swinging his legs. "Hey, young fellow!" said the Indig nant postman, "you mustn't do your lounging there! The Government ain't In the furniture business. Do yon hear?" for Simon said nothing but swung his legs indolently "You mustn't loaf there, so take a Jump for yourself." "But I can't." answered Simon. "I can't move, and by rights I can't talk, either. I'm mail. I'm malL See?" Mr. Budd Lobe, 131 Pearl Street, San Francisco, Cal. Upon his forehead was a postage stamp. Upon his coat was marked In huge letters the above address. "Don't talk nonsense,' eald the Im patient postman. "And you'd better not lnterere with the postofflce, either. He called to a policeman. Now, Officer CGlory was a new po liceman and, as he had been In trouble several times beoause of arrests made too promptly, he was a careful officer. Not grasping the facts of the case, he approached, glancing at a 'little book of rules. '.'I'm mall,' said the unruffled Simon. "He can take me or leave me. I m ad' dressed and stamped and I don't care what he does about it." "Stamped!" cried the wrathful post man. "Why, he weighs at least 200 pounds. And for that he's got one mis erable two-cent stamp on him. Officer, are you going to take this fellow?" Officer O'Glory fluttered the pagea of his book of rules. Unfortunately, the compiler had neglected to forsee such a situation. "When in doubt, use your own Judg ment." That was the only suggestion of application. No; there was another: "Never permit yourself to be thought at a loss." "I can't touch him if he's man," de clared Officer O'Glory. "You don't get me before the Commissioner for pick ing parcels off the tops of letterboxes." "But how far would a two-cent stamp carry hlmT" shouted the postman. And Simon answered: "I ain't sup posed to talk, 'cause I'm mail, but you know that so long as there's one stamp on anything you've got to take it. Wasn't there any on me. I wouldn't go; but so long as there's two cents paid, you've got to take me for the rest to be paid at my destination." "Well, m be registered!" cried the postman. "But Mr. Budd Lobe will b glad to see you! How are you mailing? You're first-class postage, I suppose?' "I'm always first-class goods." an swered Simon. The postman calculated rapidly. "Two cents an ounce or fraction thereof. Sixteen to the pound two hundred pounds $64. But won't Mr. Budd Lobe be glad to see you! Come on, then." "Carry me," said Simon. "I'm sort of a ward o' the Government and must travel luxoorlous. I'm mail, and can't walk." ' And with many a gasp and many a groan, the postman staggered to the postofflce with Simon resting comfort ably on his back. "He's mall!" gasped the postman, falling into the office with his parcel. "He isl" said the postmaster. "Well, he don't go here. He's livestock, and Uncle Sam Isn't carrying livestock. Turn him out." "That'll be all right," Simon agreed; "turn me out. I'm mall and ain't sup posed to talk, but my sender'll sue you. There ain't a court in the land would uphold you. You just try to classify a human bein' as livestock and hear the kick that'll go up. There's the Wlm men's Clubs always something frenzied to find something to kick about You let them hear you call them and other human bein's livestock 1" "To to California with him!" roared the postmaster. So there was nothing to do but to accept Simon and cancel his stamp. The indignant cancellation clerk dipped his fist Into Indelible ink and punched the stamp on Simon's fore head, while up and down his clothes "postage due" stamps were pasted. Neatly done up In a sack all tit aim- self. Simon traveled across the conti nent He saw nothing of Philadelphia and nothing of Chicago. "Don't want to,'' said Simon; just want to say I been there. Must go to Washington, too. There's sights there. Don't want them; Just want to say I been there." And. having a plentiful supply of tablets secured from a vege tarian, he subsisted as well as any vegetarian, secluded In the mall car until the brakeman cried: "San Fran cisco!" and anotner postmark was stamped on his forehead. It was the' early morning delivery. The postman went up a stoop, whist ling and crying: "Lobe! Budd Lobe! Any one know Lobe?" Budd Lobe knew Lobe and he has tened down the stairs. "Sixty-four dollars due!" said the postman. "Why, if It isn't Simon Bobbles!" cried Budd. "How are you. Simon? What on earth are you doing here? And what's that on your forehead? What kind of a stamp album are you wearing?" Said the postman: "Sixty-four dol lars, please!" Then Budd Lobe understood. "Whatr For Simon Bobbles? He ain't worth it Sorry, Simon, but you know you aren't worth anything like 64." "I know It" Simon admitted, and mumbling something about being de lighted to see him, Budd ran down the stoop, and rushed around the corner, flying from so much unpaid postage. "Well, if this isn't a sell!" exclaimed the postman. "Now what's to become of you?" "Kind o' like to see Washington." drawled Simon. "Anyway, I've got it to say that I've been to Frisco." And with the Government at a loss j of $64, he was forwarded to the Dead Letter Office. A clerk rudely tore off his coat It was the "envelope" of the "dead let ter." In a vest pocket was a card bearing the name and home address of Simon Bobbles. They sent him home from the Dead Letter Office. Says Simon: "There's always ways of doln' things. Been everywhere! Didn't see much places, but Just the same can say I was there." (Copyright Shortstory Publishing Co.) The Cromwell Bicentennial. Two hundred years ago, June 13, 1712 (O. S.), died an honest gentleman, who from September, 1658, until May 25, 165S, wbb in all but name king of Great Britain and Ireland, and who gave up royal authority not only with out regret, but with positive pleasure. This was Richard Cromwell, eldest son of Oliver Cromwell, wno for this brief period was acknowledged protector of the three kingdoms. He had lived in peaceful security for 53 years after giv ing up the government and this 1b an age when heads were taken off with little provocation therefor. He was 90 years old when he died. It was noted of Richard, son of Oliver, that he could scarcely ever be Induced to speak of politics. He was strong In his friend ships and maintained to the last the character of a fine old English gentle man. When obliged to leave the gov ernment he carried with him a mass of documents in a large hair-covered trunk of which he asked his servants to take great care. "Why so much care of an old trunk?" inquired some one; "what on earth Is in It?" "Noth ing less," said Richard Cromwell, "than the lives and fortunes of all the good people of England." What a book of disturbing memoirs he might have left behind him! But Richard was not that sort Indianapolis News.