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Thousand and One Nights?
Travellers are in too great a
rush these days, in a rush to arrive – whatever it takes. But you do not arrive
only at your destination. At every stage of the journey you arrive somewhere and
with every step you can discover a hidden facet of our planet. All you have to do
is look, wish, believe and love.’
He seemed sincerely upset that I was such a bad traveller and I felt obliged to
justify myself.
‘In fact I have some urgent work to do in Teheran. I only made a detour via
Tabriz in order to see a friend of mine who is teaching at your mission, Howard
Baskerville.’
At the mere mention of this name the atmosphere became heavy. There was
no more joviality, animation or paternal reproach. Only an embarrassed look
which I took to be evasive and utter silence. Then he spoke:
‘Are you a friend of Howard’s?’
‘In a manner of speaking, I am responsible for his coming to Persia.’
‘What a heavy responsibility!’
In vain I tried to make out a smile on his lips. He seemed suddenly old and
worn. His shoulders drooped and he seemed almost to be entreating me.
‘I have been running this mission for fifteen years. Our school is the best in
the city and I go so far as to believe that our work is useful and Christian. Those
who take part in our activities have at heart this country’s progress, otherwise,
believe you me, nothing would force them to come so far in order to take on an
environment which is often hostile.’
I had no reason to doubt him, but this man’s eagerness to defend himself put
me off him. I had only been in his office for a few minutes, I had not accused
him of anything and had not asked him for anything. I merely nodded politely.
He continued:
‘When a missionary displays indifference towards the difficulties facing the
Persians or when a teacher no longer derives any joy from his students’ progress,
I strongly advise him to go back to the United States. Sometimes enthusiasm
sags, above all with the younger teachers. What could be more human?’
Having spoken this preamble, the reverend sat silent and his stubby hands
nervously fingered his pipe. He seemed to be having difficulty in finding his
words. I thought it my duty to make the task easier for him. I adopted my most
detached tone:
‘Are you trying to say that Howard has become discouraged after these few
months and that his love of the East has turned out to be a passing fancy?’
He jumped up.
‘Good Lord, no. Not Baskerville! I was trying to explain what happens
occasionally with some of our recruits. With your friend it is the opposite and I
am infinitely more worried by that. In one sense, he is the best teacher we have
ever employed. His students are making wonderful progress, their parents swear
by him and the mission has never received so many presents – sheep, chicken,
halva – all in honour of Baskerville. The problem with him is that he refuses to
behave like a foreigner. If he were just happy to dress like the people here, to
live on
pilau
and to greet me in the vernacular of the country, I would have been
happy to smile at all that. But Baskerville is not the sort of man who stops at
appearances and he has thrown himself wholeheartedly into the political battle.
In class he praises the constitution and encourages his students to criticize the
Russians, the English and the Shah and the backward-looking
mullahs.
I even
suspect him of being what they call here a ‘son of Adam’, that is to say a
member of the secret societies.’
He sighed.
‘Yesterday morning a demonstration took place in front of our gate, led by
two of the most eminent religious chiefs, demanding that Baskerville leave or,
failing that, purely and simply that the mission close down. Three hours later
another demonstration broke out in the same spot in support of Howard
demanding that he be kept on. You must understand that if a conflict like this
goes on we will not be able to stay in this city much longer.’
‘I suppose that you have already spoken of this with Howard.’
‘A hundred times, and a hundred different ways. He invariably replies that
the reawakening of the Orient is more important than the Mission’s fate and that
if the constitutional revolution fails we will be obliged to leave in any case.
Naturally I can always end his contract, but such an act will not be understood
and will only arouse hostility amongst that section of the population which has
always supported us. The only solution is for Baskerville to cool his ardour.
Perhaps you can reason with him?’
While not formally agreeing to the undertaking, I asked to see Howard. A
glimmer of triumph suddenly lit up the reverend’s ginger beard. He jumped up
from his seat.
‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘I shall show you Baskerville. I believe I know where
he is. Watch him in silence – you will understand my reasons and share my
feelings of helplessness.’
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