The Coolidge examiner., 1937-01-21

y,
Washington. d. C.-WNU Service.
IN EYOND Bukhara and Samar-
x kand, Central Asia, lies
l. Tashkent; and from Tash-
kent eastward stretches an
ancient silk caravan road to Cathay.
1t winds across steppes, mountains,
and the Chino-Russian boundary un-
til it runs past the glamorous Cen
trail Asian metropolis of Kuldja Cor
Ningyuam in Sinkiang. whose ba-
zaar is a riot of color and whose
community is an amazing mixture
of tongues.
Here, in the winter, old-style Rus
SLAMS in gay troikas race to and
from all-night parties; solemn pro-
cessions of Mongol lamas parade
through the streets on horseback;
and long-robed Chinese and Turki
merchants shout and gesticulate in
the crowded market places.
In summer numbering oXcarts re-
place racing troikas and, from the
streets which have become dust
ponds, clouds of fine sand swirl
aloft to hover over the city like a
pail. Then life in Kuldja becomes
unbearable and the populace, by
horse. wagon, and on foot, packs off
for the mountains.
And SO it was that, after spending
seven winter and spring months in
the SHOWS and dust of Kuldja, a
traveller found himself in mid-June
two days by horse south of the city,
half lost in the mountains and
searching for the famous Tekes val
ley
His trail was winding up the bot
tom of a deep ravine. The steep
slopes were bare of trees, but COW
cred with an unbelievably rank
growth of grass and weeds. This
vegetation formed walls of the mar
row trail, cutting off his view of
everything save thin band of sky
above and a short patch of trail
before and behind.
Suddenly a horseman emerged
from the overgroWth onto the trail
in front. He was a Kalmuck,
nomad from one of the Central
Asian tribes of Mongols; his dark
skin, high cheekbones, and brim-
less, domed felt hat made that GER
tain. Apparently he had been watch
ing the traveller from some vantage
point and was accosting him for
purpose.
Kalmuck Points the Trail.
They rode together up the trail
for short distance without speak
ing. Among nomads silence is
prelude to greeting. 1t is fine
point in their social etiquette.
Where are you going?" AS he
turned back in his saddle to speak,
his expression was decidedly un-
friendly.
ITO the Tekes valley" was the
reply.
What is your business in the
Tekes?"
Il visit Sayjan Beg, the chieftain
of the Kirghiz."
The man drew rein and swung
his horse around, his face a COM
plete transformation. Where before
had been sullen distrust, there was
now smiling friendliness.
This trail does not lead to the
Tekes," he explained. IF you fol-
low it you will be lost in the noun
tains and have to spend the night in
the open" Then he gave elaborate
directions for retracing steps and
picking up the right trail.
And carry greetings from the
Kalmucks to the chief of the high
land Kirghiz," he called as they
parted.
Following his directions, at the
first fork beyond an old sheep cor
raj, the stranger dismounted to ex-
anime the muddy trail. 1t was even
as he had described; there were
many tiny tracks made by a flock
of goats which had recently passed
up the slope to the right. From
there the trail led over a series of
hogbacks until suddenly it came out
on the crest of the last ridge.
Below lay the goal the traveller
had been aiming at for three
years-the Tekes, the valley of val
leys, the nomad paradise of Cen
trail Asia.
Above the opposite valley wall,
the foothills of the Celestial noun
tains leveled off to a great plain
which stretched away to meet the
snow line. On that undulating
plateau were those far-famed high
lands which the traveller had come
to see.
Paradise for the Nomads.
Even in distant Istanbul one hears
tales of how the nomads migrate to
these Tekes highlands, bringing
with them their fiocks and herds to
spend the summer months in ver-
liable earthly paradise for Moham-
medanS, drinking the m Gus
mares milk, feasting on mutton.