IX. Karashahr–Dzungaria (1926)
Altai-Himalaya
Karashahr, in translation, means Black City. The Chinese call Urumchi the Red Temple (Hung-Miao-Tzi).
On this expanse are the countries of the Torguts and Khoshuts. Strange is the destiny of the Kalmucks. The nation is dispersed in an inexplicable manner. In Chinese Sinkiang, the Olets occupy the Iliisk district; the Torguts, Karashahr; the Khoshuts, Dzungaria; the Oirots, Mongolia; the Damsok are in Tibet. Besides these there are Kalmuck ulus, scattered in Caucasia, Altai, Semirechye, Astrakhan, along the Don, and near Orenburg. Near the holy mountain Sabur stand the remains of the city of the Kalmuck King, Aisha. In the scattered yurtas the signs of self-consciousness begin to appear. The prophecies of the forefathers tell of the coming dates.
A dispute between a Sart Bey and the Kalmuck. The Sart says provokingly: “You have no god.” The Kalmuck answers, calmly: “If a Sart comes among us we feed him and give him drink, and we feed his horse and give him provisions on his journey. But if a Kalmuck comes to the Sart, he is not given food and his horse remains hungry. Judge for yourself, who possesses the essential. The Sarts defile the Buddhist teaching and mock the Buddhist images but the Kalmucks say, ‘We revere your inscriptions.’ But you have no images because when the first images were bestowed, you were far distant and could not perceive them.”
It is difficult to dispute with Buddhists. Those who know the teaching can tell so much of the evolution of life; they speak about the messengers from Shambhala who go forth on earth, in various guises, for the help of mankind. Unprejudiced, they speak of the new social movements, recalling the commands of Gautama himself. But if we eliminate from these tales the stylization of language and images we encounter a teaching based on the true knowledge of evolution far ahead of its epoch.
S. praises the Kalmucks for the steadfastness of their word: “One does not need written agreements. It is not as with the Sarts, especially the beks and beys.”
We encounter a few beautiful Karashahr horses. This is the identical breed which one sees on ancient miniatures and on the statuettes of old China. Some scientists considered this breed extinct. But here it is before us, vigorous, dark-bay, firm in gait. It would be good for other countries to examine this breed.
Tomorrow we will go to the encampment of the Kalmuck Khan.
Hardly has evening fallen before a new Sinkiang villainy occurs. S. arrives in great excitement and says that the Amban will not permit us to go by the short road and orders us to continue our route through the sands and heat of Toksun, the long and wearisome highway. An added insult, an added imposition, an added derision of the artist and the man. Is it possible that we cannot see the monasteries? Is it possible that an artist must go only by way of the dry sands We hurry to the Taotai. The old man pretends to be indisposed and cannot receive us. His secretary shouts from the balcony that we can go, that the Amban will arrange all that is necessary. We go to the Amban. He is not at home. His secretary says that the Amban “fears for us on account of the great snows on the mountain pass.” We explain that there is now no longer any snow, that we do not have to go by way of high Teke-davan, that we will go through Sumun-davan, which is lower.
At seven o’clock they promise to bring us the answer. Of course the snow of the Amban is by no means of a white color. These Chinese are capable of ruining each day. These Chinese are capable of transforming each day into a prison and a torture. We await the evening and nevertheless prepare to depart. There come Torguts, returning from Kobdo.
A Khoshut lama comes. He asks us to heal his eyes. He brings us valuable tales. Not fairy tales but facts. Facts are needed. The lama from Uliasutai has written a book about the approach of the time of Shambhala.
In the evening the answer comes. The nephew of the Taotai and the postmaster bring it. Of course the answer is negative. In spite of the heat, of the humidity and dust, we must go by the long way, through hot Toksun. E.I. says she will die from the heat, but the Chinese smile and notify us that their Governor has a very small heart. We compose this telegram to the Governor-General:
Please wire instructions to the Magistrate at Karashahr to allow Roerich Expedition to proceed to Urumchi by mountain way. Health of Mrs. Roerich does not allow her to continue journey through the hot sandy desert of the long road. The mountain road permits to reach Urumchi much sooner.
Until the arrival of an answer we shall go to the encampment of the Torgut Khan and the monastery Sharasüme.
The sense of surveillance and compulsion is abominable. What work can be accomplished when behind one’s back stands the order of the Amban and when the Governor-General has a “very small heart”? One’s whole mood is spoiled and we are waiting again as though in some medieval Chinese dungeon.
