Shaykh Khidr Mihrani, the Kurdish seer

In the chronicles of the Mamluk period, few figures appear as enigmatic as shaykh Khidr Mihrani. A Kurdish Sufi figure who rose from humble beginnings, Khidr became one of the closest confidants of Sultan Baybars.

Medieval chroniclers describe a man who occupied an extraordinary position: his counsel carried great influence, rulers and amirs treated him with caution, and many believed he possessed knowledge of future events. Some even compared him to the Quranic Khidr.

Yet the same sources preserve a complicated image of him. Khidr was accused by some of serious offenses. The sultan eventually imprisoned him, but according to the chronicles, Khidr claimed that their deaths were linked, and after Khidr died, Baybars himself followed shortly afterward.

His story is an excellent illustration of the relationship between Sufism, esoteric knowledge, political authority, and the significant Kurdish link to these fields in the premodern world.

I have brought together his life story from various premodern accounts in order to present it as comprehensively as possible. This is, to my knowledge, the first attempt at a complete English translation of his biography: 

Shams al Din al Jazari writes:

At the beginning of his life, he served the great men in the land of al-Jazīra. 

Then it was reported about him that he had corrupted some of the female slaves of the palace, so an order was issued to castrate him. He fled to Aleppo, and served at the court of Ibn Qarāṭābā, and he impregnated a slave girl. He was sought after, so he fled to Damascus and took refuge with the amir Ḍiyāʾ al-Dīn al-Qaymarī.

 Ibn Shaddad writes: 

Qushṭamur al-ʿAjamī, one of the Baḥrī Ṣāliḥiyya amirs, had spoken to Baybars about Khidr’s remarkable claims: even before the sultan gained power, Khidr repeatedly stated that he would one day become ruler. The amir Sayf al-Dīn likewise became attached to him.

During the campaign against al-Karak in 661 AH/1263 CE, Khidr accompanied the sultan. When the army stopped at Ṭābūr, the sultan asked about him and learned that Khidr had withdrawn into a cave near the tomb of Abū Hurayra. He went to find him, met with him, and was so impressed that he brought him into his close circle.

From then onward, a number of incidents strengthened the sultan’s trust in him. While the sultan was besieging Arsūf, Khidr informed him of the exact date on which it would fall, and the conquest occurred as he had predicted. Similar reports were given regarding Caesarea and Ṣafad.

Later, in 665 AH/1266 CE, as the sultan was travelling from Damascus toward al-Karak to examine the fortress, he asked Khidr for his opinion. Khidr advised him to abandon the expedition and return instead to Egypt. The sultan did not accept this advice and continued with his plan. However, at Birkat Zīzā he was thrown from his horse, broke his leg, and was forced to remain there until he recovered, after which he was transported to Gaza.

During the sultan’s Anatolian campaign, one of his companions met with Khidr and asked him what would happen to the expedition. Khidr replied that the sultan would be victorious, would return to Damascus, and would die there twenty days after Khidr’s own death. According to the report, this happened exactly as foretold. I heard this story directly from Qushṭamur al-ʿAjamī himself, who personally took responsibility for the account.

Because of the exceptional confidence the sultan placed in Khidr, he established for him a zāwiya outside Cairo on the canal near the Drummery-ground and endowed it with properties that generated more than 30,000 silver dirhams annually. He also founded other lodges for him in Jerusalem, Damascus, Baʿlabakk, Ḥamāh, and Ḥimṣ, each supplied with endowments and inhabited by dervishes.

The sultan granted him extraordinary freedom of action within the realm: Khidr exercised authority, and no one was able to hold him accountable. He demolished the great Jewish synagogue of Damascus and converted it into a lodge, adding prayer niches. In Jerusalem he destroyed a church located west of the city, known among Christians as the site of the Crucifixion and highly revered by them. He personally killed its priest and transformed the building into a zāwiya.

In Alexandria, he also seized one of the major Greek churches, regarded by Christians as a patriarchal seat and associated by them with the head of John son of Zechariah (John the Baptist). He converted it into a mosque, built prayer niches there, and named it the Green School. He opened a window facing the street and provided for the dervishes attached to it.

In all of these actions, the sultan supported him and approved what he did. 

 Al Umari: 

He exercised authority, but no one exercised authority over him. No command of his was opposed, whether in matters great or small. Consequently, both the elite and the common people were wary of him. Even Amir Badr al-Dīn Baylik al-Khazindār, the deputy of the sultanate; the vizier Bahāʾ al-Dīn ʿAlī ibn Ḥannā; the rulers of the frontier principalities; and even the Frankish kings, along with others, treated him with caution.

Whenever he wrote to the ruler of Ḥamāh or to any of the amirs requesting a favor, he would sign:

"Shaykh Khiḍr, the donkey-fucker."

(Then) the great men and the sultan found fault with him for disgraceful matters, and he was accused of unbelief.

People were brought forward to confront him and question him.

Ibn al-Yūnīnī said:

I was told that when Sultan al-Ẓāhir's attitude toward him changed, he summoned some of Khiḍr's companions from Damascus to question him regarding matters that had been reported about him and to confront him with them.

Sultan al-Ẓāhir sat in the Citadel of the Mountain, and with him were among the greatest of the amirs: Fāris al-Dīn al-Atābak, Badr al-Dīn, and al-Malik al-Manṣūr Qalāwūn. He sent the amir Sayf al-Dīn Qushṭamur al-ʿAjamī to bring him. When he was summoned to appear at the citadel, he objected, because this was not something he was accustomed to.

Qushṭamur informed him that there was a matter being discussed, so he came with him. When he entered, he found that things were not as he was accustomed to. So he sat apart from them, separated from the gathering. The sultan then brought forward those of his companions whom he had summoned from Damascus.

They began speaking and accused him of shameful deeds and grave matters — things that could scarcely come from a Muslim.

Khiḍr replied:

"I do not know what they are saying.

Besides, I never told you: 'I am a righteous man.' You were the ones who said this.

If what these people are saying is true, then you were the ones who lied."

Sultan al-Ẓāhir and those with him rose from where they were and said:

"Let us get up. We do not want to be burned by being near him."

They moved to the far side of the audience hall, away from him. Al-Ẓāhir said:

"What is it that has made you suspicious of him?"

The Atābak replied:

"This man has knowledge of secrets — the secrets of the state and its inner affairs.

He should not be left alive, for it cannot be ruled out that something may come from him whose consequences cannot be repaired."

Those present agreed with him and said:

"Some of what has been said about him would be enough to make his blood lawful."

Khiḍr understood what they intended.

He said to Sultan al-Ẓāhir:

"Listen to what I say to you!

My appointed time is close to yours.

Between me and you there are only a few short days.

Whoever of us dies first, the other will follow him soon."

Sultan al-Ẓāhir was struck silent by this and said to the amirs:

"What do you think about this?"

None of them said anything.

Al-Ẓāhir said:

"This man shall be imprisoned in a place where none of his words can be heard, so that he will be like one who has been buried while still alive."

So he imprisoned him in a place apart. He did not allow anyone to enter to him except those whom the sultan trusted with the utmost confidence. Food of the finest quality, drinks, fruits, and clothing were brought to him, and his garments were changed for him regularly.

His imprisonment began on the twelfth of Shawwāl, in the year 671 AH. He died on Thursday, the sixth of Muḥarram, or on the night of Friday the seventh. On that Friday he was brought out from his imprisonment in the Citadel of the Mountain — dead. He was handed over to his family. They carried him to his well-known zāwiya in the quarter of the al-Ẓāhirī Mosque in al-Ḥusayniyya. There he was washed. He was carried to the mentioned mosque, and the funeral prayer was performed for him there after the Friday prayer. He was buried in the tomb he had prepared for himself at the zāwiya. He was slightly over fifty years old. When al-Ẓāhir returned from al-Rūm, he wrote an order for his release and sent the message by the postal relay. The sultan did not live after him for more than twenty days. He died on the twenty-seventh of that Muḥarram. Thus it happened exactly as Shaykh Khiḍr had said.

Ibn Kathir:

It is said that his origin was from the village of al-Muḥammadiyya in Jazīrat Ibn ʿUmar. He was credited with spiritual states and unveilings.

However, when he mixed with people, he became infatuated with some of the daughters of the amirs. He used to say about al-Malik al-Ẓāhir, while he was still only an amir, that he would become king.

Because of this, after al-Ẓāhir became ruler, the sultan believed in him and greatly honored him. He revered him excessively, visited him at his zāwiya once or twice a week, took him with him on many of his journeys, stayed close to him, respected him, and consulted him.

He would advise him with opinions and unveilings that proved correct, whether they were divine, satanic, or the result of a spiritual state or good fortune.

However, when he mixed with people, he fell into temptation because of some of the daughters of the amirs. They did not veil themselves from him, and he fell into trial.

This is generally what happens when one mixes with people: the person who associates with them is not safe from temptation, especially mixing with women.

When what happened occurred, he was questioned before the sultan, Taysirī, Qalāwūn, and al-Fāris Aqṭāy the Atābak. He admitted [the matter], and the sultan intended to kill him.

From Medieval Shahrazur to Spain

Ibn Khaldun recounts the story of a Kurdish community from Shahrazur whose chiefs were driven from their homeland by the Mongol conquest and eventually found refuge in the Maghrib. Some settled in Tunis, while others continued westward into Morocco and even crossed into al-Andalus.

Across the centuries, the story feels strikingly familiar: Kurds forced from their homeland, carrying their memories, rivalries, and traditions with them as they built new lives in distant lands. Many rose to prominent positions in the courts and dynasties they chose to serve.

There is even a touch of bitter irony in the tale. Ibn Khaldun notes that the old feuds they had known in their homeland followed them across continents. Even in North Africa, far from the mountains of Kurdistan, Kurdish rivalries endured. I have to admit, that detail made me chuckle.

Despite their historical significance, these passages from Ibn Khaldun have remained untranslated and never been pointed to or brought to light in Kurdish studies. This translation is the first effort to introduce them to the field and highlight their importance for the study of Kurdish history.

There is a backstory to how I came across passages like these. While reading primary sources from al-Andalus, I repeatedly encountered references to prominent men who were said to have "come from the East." It struck me that among such figures there must surely have been Kurds, for few peoples embodied the notion of "men of the East" more than the Kurds of the medieval Islamicate world.

Curious, I began to investigate further. I was not disappointed. The deeper I dug, the more Kurds I found appearing in the sources of al-Andalus and the Maghrib, as soldiers, administrators, scholars, courtiers, and political elites. This passage from Ibn Khaldun is only one piece of a much larger puzzle, but it is among the most remarkable.

Ibn Khaldun writes: 

....This man, Muhammad ibn al-Qalun, known as al-Mazwar, I do not know anything of his origins peyond the fact that he was a Kurd, from among those Kurds whose chiefs came as a delegation to the kings of the Maghrib after the Tatars had driven them from their homelands in Shahrazur when they gained control of Baghdad in the year 656 AH

Some of them settled in Tunis, while others advanced into the Maghrib and came to al-Murtada in Marrakesh, who treated them generously and granted them good hospitality Some of them entered the service of the Banu Marin (Marinid dynasty), while others joined the Banu Abd al-Wad as is mentioned in their histories.....

As for Mūsā b. ʿAlī, the chamberlain who perished together with the sultan, he was originally from a Kurdish tribe among the non-Arab peoples of the East. We have already referred to the disagreements among nations concerning their ancestry. Among them, al-Masʿūdī mentions various groups in his book, naming the Shāhjān, the Barsān, the Kīkān, and others besides. He states that their homelands were in Azerbaijan, Syria, and Mosul, and that among them were Christians of the Jacobite persuasion and Kharijites who professed disavowal of both ʿUthmān and ʿAlī. Thus ends his account.

There were also groups of them in the mountains of Shahrazur in Iraq of the Ajam. Most of them lived a nomadic life, moving from place to place and seeking out regions blessed with rainfall for their herds. They dwelt in tents made of felt, and the greater part of their livelihood came from sheep and cattle. Owing to their numbers, they possessed considerable strength and independence, and some held positions of leadership in Baghdad during the period when foreign dynasties dominated the state and monopolized authority.

When the rule of the Abbasids was extinguished and the Tatars conquered Baghdad in the year 656 AH (1258 CE), their ruler Hülegü killed the last Abbasid caliph, al-Mustaʿṣim. The Tatars then advanced through the kingdoms and districts of Iraq and seized them. Many Kurds crossed the Euphrates in flight before the Tatars, who adhered to the religion of the Magians. They entered the domains of the Turks, for the noble families and leading houses among them considered it beneath their dignity to remain under Tatar rule.

Among those who migrated westward were two clans known as the Banū Lawīn and the Banū Bābīr, together with their followers. They entered the Maghrib toward the end of the Almohad state and presented themselves before al-Murtaḍā in Marrakesh. He received them graciously, honored them with generous hospitality, assigned them stipends and landed grants, and gave them an elevated position within the government.

When the Almohad regime soon afterward fell into disorder, they came under the rule of the Banū Marīn. Some of them joined Yaghmurāsan b. Zayyān, while al-Mustanṣir departed at that time for Ifriqiya. A certain branch of the Banū Bābīr—whose exact identity I do not know—was among those who went with him. Among them was Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, known as al-Mazwār, a close companion of our master Sultan Abū Yaḥyā, as well as others besides him. Another notable figure among those who remained in the dominions of the Banū Marīn was Rakkān, one of the most renowned members of their people. 

Among the Banū Bābīr were ʿAlī b. Ḥasan b. Ṣāf and his brother Salmān. Among the Banū Lawīn was al-Khiḍr b. Muḥammad, followed by the Banū Ḥammūr and the Banū Būṣa. Leadership of the Banū Bābīr belonged to Salmān and ʿAlī, while leadership of the Lawīn was held by al-Khiḍr b. Muḥammad.

Conflict nearly broke out between them, just as it had in their original homeland. Whenever they prepared for war, their supporters would come to join them from Tlemcen. Their fighting was conducted with arrows, and bows were their principal weapon. One of the most famous clashes between them took place in Fez in the year 674 AH (1275–76 CE), when al-Khiḍr, chief of the Banū Lawīn, and Salmān and ʿAlī, the chiefs of the Banū Bābīr, gathered their forces and fought outside Bāb al-Futūḥ. Yaʿqūb b. ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq left them to their own quarrel out of consideration for them and did not interfere.

Salmān later met his death while stationed at the frontier fortress of Tarifa in the year 690 AH (1291 CE). As for ʿAlī b. Ḥasan, he had a son named Mūsā whom Sultan Yūsuf b. Yaʿqūb took into his favor. The sultan granted him unrestricted access to his residence and raised him among the women of his household, so that Mūsā attained a position of exceptional intimacy. Certain incidents eventually occurred that displeased him, and in anger he departed and entered Tlemcen at a time when Yūsuf b. Yaʿqūb was besieging the city.

There he was received by ʿUthmān b. Yaghmurāsan with honors and a welcome befitting both the standing of his people and the favor he had enjoyed with the sultan. Yūsuf b. Yaʿqūb advised his father to win him back. He met Mūsā amid the theater of war, spoke with him, and apologized for the honors that the people of Tlemcen had shown him, urging him to remain loyal to them. Mūsā then returned to the sultan and informed him of what had happened, and the sultan did not hold it against him. He subsequently remained in Tlemcen, while his father ʿAlī died in the Maghrib in the year 707 AH (1307–8 CE).

After the death of ʿUthmān b. Yaghmurāsan b. Zayyān, his sons drew Mūsā even closer to themselves and strengthened their ties with him. They made him one of their inner circle and entrusted him with command of armies in their wars against their enemies. They appointed him to important offices and elevated ranks, including the vizierate and the chamberlainship.

When Sultan Abū Ḥammū died and his son Abū Tāshfīn succeeded him, it was Mūsā who supervised the taking of the oath of allegiance from the people on the new ruler’s behalf. This position greatly irked the freedman Hilāl. Once Hilāl had gained ascendancy, he frequently competed with and challenged Mūsā b. ʿAlī. Fearing for his safety, Mūsā resolved to cross the sea and take up frontier service in al-Andalus.

Hilāl, however, acted first. He had Mūsā arrested and exiled across the strait, where he settled in Granada. There he joined the ranks of the warrior-volunteers engaged in jihad. During his stay he refrained from accepting the stipend assigned to him by the sultan and never once stretched out his hand to receive it. This was regarded as one of the noblest aspects of his conduct and became widely discussed among the people, who were astonished by it.

Hilāl's heart burned with envy and hostility because of Mūsā's reputation. He incited his ruler against him and wrote to Ibn al-Aḥmar requesting that Mūsā be sent back. Ibn al-Aḥmar complied and surrendered him. The sultan then employed Mūsā in his campaigns on the frontiers, and among these was his command of the army sent to Ifrīqiya to confront our master Sultan Abū Yaḥyā in the year 727 AH (1327 CE).

Then the tide of battle turned against them. The defeat fell upon him, and the Zanāta suffered a severe slaughter. He retreated with the routed remnants of the army. Hilāl then incited the sultan against him and planted suspicions about his loyalty in his mind. When news of this reached Mūsā, he sought refuge among the Arab tribe of the Zawāwida. In his place, the command of the siege of Béjaïa was entrusted to Yaḥyā b. Mūsā, lord of the Chelif region.

Mūsā himself went to Sulaymān and Yaḥyā, the sons of ʿAlī b. Sabbāʿ b. Yaḥyā, who were among the princes of the Zawāwida, in their tribal encampments. They received him with kindness and great respect, and he remained among them for a time. The sultan later summoned him back, and he returned to his former position at court.

Not long afterward, however, the sultan had him arrested and sent to Algiers, where he was imprisoned and subjected to harsh confinement, largely because of the rivalry and intrigues of Hilāl. Then, when Hilāl finally incurred the sultan’s displeasure, Mūsā was summoned from the very prison in which he had been most tightly confined and brought before him.

When Hilāl was arrested, Mūsā b. ʿAlī was appointed to the office of chamberlain in his place. He continued to hold that office until Sultan Abū al-Ḥasan stormed Tlemcen. There he perished together with Abū Tāshfīn and his sons in the courtyard of their palace, as we have already related. Thus ended his career—and God alone endures.

After his death, his sons entered the service of Sultan Abū al-Ḥasan. The eldest of them, Saʿīd, had miraculously escaped from among the dead during that great catastrophe at the palace gate. Late in the night, though covered with grievous wounds, he managed to crawl away. His survival was afterward regarded as extraordinary. He received the sultan’s pardon and remained in favor until the restoration of the Banū ʿAbd al-Wād dynasty, whereupon he once again found a place of prominence in its service, as we shall mention later. God accomplishes His purposes.   

An Italian in 17th-century Kurdistan: settled Kurds

Piotr's journey through Kurdistan has neither been translated nor received attention in Kurdish studies. The present translation is the first attempt to accomplish both, making some of the most interesting passages available to a wider audience.

 

Piotr, an Italian author who traveled to the Ottoman/Safavid realms, as well as Kurdistan in between (1614-1620s), recounted his knowledge and experiences with Kurdish dynasties and customs of Kurds as follows:

...a village called Chizil-Rabat, the last inhabited place under Ottoman jurisdiction. Indeed, it is inhabited and governed by a certain Ahmed, or Muhammad Beg, chief of many Kurds, to whom the Grand Signior (Ottoman ruler) grants its administration in perpetuity, on the condition that he and all the people dwelling along those frontiers serve him in return, as they in fact do.

Since I have spoken of these Kurds and shall have much more to say about them, it is necessary, before proceeding further, to give Your Lordship some account of them.

Kurdistan, that is, the land of the Kurds, lies directly between the Turks and the Persians. In breadth, from east to west, it extends no more than ten or twelve days' journey at most, in some places more and in others less. From north to south, however, it stretches a great distance, beginning, according to my understanding, between Babylonia and Susiana, near the Persian Gulf, and running northward above Mosul, or Nineveh, between Armenia and Media, almost, I believe, as far as the vicinity of the Black Sea.

It is a strong country, for it is entirely mountainous. It is in fact a branch of the Taurus Mountains, which breaks off from that range and, crossing Asia at this point from one side to the other, extends down to the Persian Gulf. Nature itself seems to have placed it there as a boundary and partition between the two great empires of the Turks and the Persians, just as I believe it once formed the frontier between the Romans and the Parthians.

What Kurdistan was called in ancient times I do not know, nor do I think it then possessed a single general name as it does today. Rather, I believe it was divided among several peoples bearing different names, as we see in the writers of those ages. Among these peoples, especially in the northern regions, were likely the Carduchi, who along the River Tigris caused so much trouble to Xenophon and his men during their retreat toward Greece, as he recounts in full in those truly golden books on the expedition.

The Kurds have a language of their own, distinct from the surrounding Arabic, Turkish, and Persian tongues. Yet their speech bears some resemblance to a rough or rustic form of Persian more than to any other language.

Many of them live under tents, wandering from place to place with their flocks and herds. The greater part, however, live more settled and civilized lives in permanent villages and towns.

They obey various lords of their own, mostly hereditary rulers, who acknowledge either the Turk or the Persian as overlord according to their proximity, much as feudal barons acknowledge a sovereign. The most powerful among them, however, are independent.

These lords vary greatly in strength. Some can field ten or twelve thousand horsemen, as could one whom I saw in Constantinople, the ruler of Bitlis. Others, such as the Beg mentioned above, are considered significant if they command two or three thousand men.

The more powerful rulers do not profess vassalage, but merely live under the protection of one or the other king. At times they even change allegiance whenever it suits their interests, much as some of the lesser princes of Italy do. The weaker ones are content not only to be vassals, but at times even to hold their governorships only for a fixed term and for life, rather than by hereditary right.

Their dress is a rough mixture of Turkish and Persian fashions. Their women go about freely with uncovered faces and converse openly with men, both locals and foreigners alike.

As for religion, they follow either the Persian or the Turkish sect of the Islamic faith, according to whether they are more closely attached politically to one ruler or the other. It is true, however, that other Muslims (Persians and Turks) regard them as unsound in their faith, and say that alongside the false traditions of Muhammad they maintain certain superstitions of their own that incline toward paganism. Of these I cannot speak with certainty, since I am not well informed on the matter.

In some parts of their lands, such as Jazira, a city of Mesopotamia situated on an island in the Tigris River (as its name itself signifies), ruled by a Kurdish prince; and in the mountains which the Chaldeans call Tur, meaning "mountain" or "mountain province," where the Chaldean language is still commonly spoken and where the Kurds likewise rule, there live large numbers of Chaldean Christians, mostly of the Nestorian or Jacobite rites. The Kurds sometimes even employ them as soldiers. Such is the condition of the Kurds.

Piotr was accompanied by his wife on the tour across Kurdistan. His travelogue has a charming anecdote about their visit in a Kurdish village, where they were greeted by an aristocratic lady who appears to have the leading figure of the region in the absence of her husband:

Kurds, both men and women, came from all directions to bring us and sell us foodstuffs: milk, small pistachios—the same kind of which I sent samples to Your Lordship, though these were fresh, still covered by their green outer husks. Kurdistan produces them in great abundance, along with many other similar goods.

On the tenth day, after climbing a series of small hills, we traveled for half a day and, for the convenience of provisions and fodder, stopped beside a small stream called Lenghi Imam, below a small Kurdish village known as Lenghi Conaghi, meaning "New Resting Place."

There I began exchanging my Syrian attire for Persian dress. As a first step, I found a rustic barber and, with great ceremony, had him remove in a single stroke my long and magnificent beard, which, to my immense discomfort, I had carefully maintained and combed throughout my stay in Turkey for nearly sixteen months, ever since departing from Constantinople.

 During the night at Lenghi Conaghi we had rain and snow, though not cold weather, and it was the first time this had happened during the entire journey. On the eleventh day we departed late, waiting for the tents to dry, since they had become stiff and frozen from the snow and could not be folded. Nevertheless, we arrived in good time and camped at the foot of a great mountain that we had to cross, near a fortress called Pesciver, recently built there to guard the frontier.

At that time Qāsim Sultan, whom I mentioned earlier, was stationed there with perhaps five hundred of his soldiers, while the rest of his forces were dispersed among various posts along the nearby border. We remained there throughout the twelfth day, partly to rest the animals so that they would be fresher for the mountain crossing, and partly because it was customary for caravans to stop there and present gifts to the sultan. Besides governing the villages, he also exercised authority over a large number of Kurds who roamed those mountains and plains.

During our stay we experienced cold weather for both nights and an exceedingly fierce wind, against which neither poles nor ropes were sufficient to keep the tents standing.

On the morning of the thirteenth we crossed the mountain, which was entirely covered in snow. From that point onward, snow—at least upon the highest ground, if not always falling from the sky—never left us for the remainder of the journey to Isfahan.

Because the great whiteness of the landscape on every side, especially when the sun was shining, was very hard on the eyes, it became necessary to employ the same remedy that Xenophon relates had benefited his soldiers in ancient times: placing a black band before the eyes, whose shade protected them from the dazzling whiteness of the snow, making it much less troublesome. That evening we reached our lodging place early, sheltered among the mountains. There, by great good fortune, we found a small patch of ground free of snow on which to pitch our tents and sleep in the dry.

Near this spot, among the narrow ravines of certain water-rich mountains, stood a small village called Chieren, inhabited by Kurds. Many of them, as was customary, came to our caravan bringing goods to sell. My lady Maani became curious and wished to see their houses. Since they appeared nearer than they actually were, I went on foot alone with her and several women from the country. of those women who had come to visit us with goods to sell, I set out in that direction. We arrived there at nightfall, and along the way I learned from a respectable man who lived there that a certain Khanum Sultan, the lady of that village and of several others nearby, resided there. Since we had come into her territory, Lady Maani felt that courtesy required paying her a visit, and so we went, guided by the same man, who was her steward. It would be difficult to describe the warmth with which we were received—Lady Maani by the sultana, and I by her brother, since her husband was away in the king's service. We wished to take our leave quickly, as it was already late, but they would not allow it. They insisted on preparing a good pilaf and other dishes, and would not hear of our departing until we had dined with them. The women ate separately, while we men were served at the same time in another room. The bread, as I later saw throughout Kurdistan and often in Persia as well, was extremely thin and spread into large round sheets like the pasta used for making lasagna, though white and well baked. Spoons and similar refinements were unknown; instead, the Persian hand served as both spoon and knife. The food itself was truly rustic village fare, yet to us it was more pleasing than the banquets of Sardanapalus or Elagabalus, because of the kindness and generosity with which it was offered. When supper was finished, we departed amid endless expressions of goodwill. The sultana's brother acted as interpreter, translating from Kurdish into Turkish, and he insisted on accompanying us, together with several of his men, all the way back to our tents, which were a good mile distant. In return, Lady Maani sent him back to present the sultana with a basin of fruit and other delicacies to eat, including little cakes in the style of our own countries and similar treats that could not be found in that place, together with some perfumes and other feminine gifts that women are usually fond of.

 

Piotr continued on, arriving at another Kurdish-populated area. This time, he was so fascinated by a particular characteristic of the residences that he wanted to have them built in Italy... the tannur:

Despite the immense snow both beneath us and falling upon us, we made a long day's journey, passing a place where caravans usually stop and continuing much farther before making camp beside a stream near the village called Mahideset.

On Monday, after only half a day's travel, though a very unpleasant one because of the constant snow, wind, and rain, we arrived at a village built upon a bridge crossing a small river called, like many others in the East, Cara-su ("Black Water"). In Persian it was called Pul-i-Shah, meaning "The King's Bridge," while the Turks called it Shah Köprüsü, which means exactly the same thing.

There, for the convenience of being indoors, and because the snow was still falling heavily, we chose not to lodge in our tents but instead in the house of some Kurds. Men and women lived there together, and we were treated very well, supplied with fire and everything else we needed. From all that I observed, the Kurdish people were exceedingly kind and hospitable.

I noticed there a custom that deserves mention, and which I later found not only throughout Kurdistan but also throughout Persia, at least in the more respectable houses.

They do not make fires in fireplaces. Instead, they use what they call a tannur, a furnace set into the floor. It consists of a pit, either square or round, about two palms deep or a little more, roughly resembling the shape of a Roman barrel. To make it heat more quickly and efficiently, the pit is lined all around with a clay vessel specially made to fit inside it and buried in the ground.

At the bottom they place either glowing embers or a fire of charcoal or some other material that quickly turns to coals. Once this is done, they place over the opening a wooden frame, like a small low table covering the furnace. Over this they spread a large quilt stuffed with cotton, which hangs down to the floor on all sides. By trapping the heat, it produces something of the effect of a stove and warms the entire room remarkably well.

Whether eating or simply conversing—and some even while sleeping—people sit on carpets around this little table, low to the ground, with their backs resting against cushions placed along the walls, in the manner customary in these lands. The tannur is always positioned where the room's walls are at a suitable distance on at least two sides to allow people to sit around it in this fashion. 

 

I was taken aback when I read him, as this is the first explicit confirmation of a thesis I have defended on several occasions, one that runs counter to much of what has been written about the overall premodern history of the Kurds. My thesis has been that whenever political conditions permitted it, there existed a substantial settled Kurdish population.

According to Piotr, this was not a marginal segment of society. There is something deeply satisfying about reconstructing a picture of the past through scattered clues and inferences, without having a source that states it outright, and then finally encountering an author who say the same thing from... direct observation.

With that said, I believe we can be confident in rejecting historical narratives that overlook major demographic realities such as the settled Kurdish population. Any account that treats settled Kurds as a minor element for most of the premodern period, or that focuses almost exclusively on semi-nomadic tribes, is at best misleading and at worst fundamentally false.

French consul in 18th-century Kurdistan

Otter's journey through Kurdistan has neither been translated nor received attention in Kurdish studies. The present translation is the first attempt to accomplish both, making some of the most interesting passages available to a wider audience.

In 1738, Otter was required to travel through Kurdistan on his way to Iran. As an official French envoy, he did not travel alone. Upon entering Ottoman territory, he was accompanied by additional personnel whose task was to ensure his safety and facilitate a smooth journey.

But how well did those precautions work once he encountered the Kurds?

From Urfa to Kotche-hifar, one encounters neither towns nor villages on the road. It is a desert inhabited by Kurds, who fear neither the Pashas, nor even the Ottoman Sultan. Their herds are their wealth; they have no fixed abode, and often change canton to find new pastures. They came during the night to our camp, and having penetrated as far as the Ambafador's tent, they stole jewels, clothes, and furniture.

The attack was daring, and what is unique is that Abdul Bakikhan (from the envoy set to protect the French during the travel through Kurdistan) saw himself robbed without resistance. As we had been warned these Kurds were clever. Everyone stood guard and watched over the baggage as well as the horses. The Ambassador's tent was closed as best as possible, and his guard, who relieved him from time to time, was very attentive for fear of punishment. There was still a light in the tent, and a fire outside the tent. The ambassador (Abdul Bakikhan) had brought a woman from his Harem to spend the night with her, his valets had withdrawn. Around midnight the Kurds having crept belly to the ground to the middle of the camp, made an opening in one side of the tent, and entered it. One of them presented himself with the cloth in his hand at the Ambassador's bed, while the others pillaged. Abdul Bakikhan, frightened, pretended to be asleep for fear of being massacred. The thieves, after having done their robbery, escaped by the same route without making a noise; at which point the Ambassador began to cry out "thief." His guards entered, and seeing no one, they thought he had been dreaming, and withdrew; but he called them a second time in a frightened tone, told them what had just happened to him, and ordered them to run after the robbers. Alarm arose in the camp; people ran in all directions with lighted torches, but it was in vain. The agile Kurds, knowing the country, easily escaped us.

This passage is a rare depiction of the average Kurd's state in the premodern period and how difficult life was:

I had renewed my provisions of rice and biscuits at Krmashan. The Kurds, inhabitants of the places we passed, brought to the caravan milk, butter, cheese, chickens, and sometimes lambs. One of these Kurds came that day to my tent to sell me chickens. A little girl of twelve to thirteen years old followed him; She was well made and appeared pretty, although her face was a little tanned. A simple linen shirt covered her body: her head was bare, and an iron ring three fingers in diameter hung from one of her nostrils. These rings are considered an ornament in the country: rich or well-off people have them made of gold or silver. This girl was carrying milk and kaimak, which is a strong flaky cream, in two bowls. After making me the felam, she placed them on the ground in front of me and crossed her two arms over her breast, which is a respectful attitude in their culture.

I asked the father, who only wore a pair of linen drawers more, why he didn't dress his daughter better. He answered me in Persian: You speak of it at your leisure, and it seems to me that you hardly know Nadir Shah. To be able to make our clothing, he would have to leave us a piece of bread.

Are we not obliged to sell all that we have to give him money, or else resolve to die under the stick? I am currently being asked for three tomans; I do not know where to get them. My cattle, my flocks, my furniture and my clothes have already been taken by the governmental collectors. I only have two or three sheep left, whose milk provides food for me and for this poor girl. I was touched with compassion, but I was not in a position to remedy their misery. I took the chickens and the milk, and paid them fourfold.

Why did Kurdish authors participate in mythmaking during the premodern period? This paragraph, written by Otter, provides a hint. The French consul was replicating the mythology of Kurdish authors and their aims:

The Kurdish nation is divided into different tribes, distinguished by their languages, as well as by their customs and ways of life. They occupy, from Hurmuz to Malatia and Merache, a large expanse of land, which is bounded to the north by Iran, to the south by Arab Iraq. This country is divided into eighteen districts, and filled with mountains commonly inhabited by the Kurds. The strong men of antiquity, like Rustem, Behram, Ferhad and others, were of their nation. They are valiant, lively and proud.

Otter, the French consul to Nadir Shah's court, paid visits to several Kurdish towns. His comments about Baban and Ardalan are interesting. He did visit Baban when the capital was Kirkuk and the majority of the inhabitants were 'Gorani Kurds':

Kirkuk is today the capital of Chehrezour region, which is part of Kurdistan. This government (Baban) is divided into thirty-two districts, and it is enclosed in between Aderbaijan, Persian Iraq, the countries of Baghdad, Mosul, Amadia & Hakiari.

The Gorani Kurds occupy the greater part of it. Their principal place is called Pelenkian; it is a large town in the canton of Kiziltchè. There is a fort almost impregnable due to its location on a high mountain. Kiziltchè is another fort. The Gorani Kurds originally depended on the Ardalan. Since the take over of the region (by the Babans), the Ardalans have chosen Hafen-abad, a town in the vicinity of Hemedan, as their capital.

In Shahrazur, Otter naturally came across the question of what Empire Kurds of the Kurdish dynasties preferred. The answer is compatible with other sources that discuss the same topic.

The curiosity of seeing a European attracted several Kurds to my tent. I entered into conversation with them, and immediately realized that they were more inclined towards the Persians than towards the Turks. One of them told me that the Persians had, within the last month, drawn more than four thousand horses from this canton, which provides very good ones.

Kurdish "Qarmatians" in the 13th-century

Ibn al-Jawzi, the medieval Muslim jurist and historian, reports the presence of Qarmatians among the Kurds. He likely drew this information from earlier authors who had similarly described parts of the Kurdish mountains as home to "Qarmatians." How should such reports be understood?

Medieval authors frequently employed broad and often imprecise labels when describing entire peoples or regions. For this reason, it is doubtful that substantial communities of Qarmatians, in the strict "developed" sense, existed throughout the Kurdish mountains during Ibn al-Jawzi's time. More likely, the term was being used as a catch-all designation for populations perceived as heterodox/non-Muslim.

What is particularly significant is that Ibn al-Jawzi's testimony suggests that large segments of the Kurdish population were still viewed as non-Muslim in the thirteenth century. The largest segment in my opinion for this period. This does not imply that Islamization/Arabization had not already made progress in Kurdish regions, nor does it mean that Muslims were absent from those areas. Rather, it indicates that, at the collective level, Kurdish communities continued to be regarded by contemporary observers as lying outside the bounds of Islam and that these observations were true since Kurds as a collective did lack bare minimum Islam. This conclusion by Muslim authors about the Kurdish regions and population would hold true for centuries to come.

Ibn al Jawzi writes: 

Their (Qarmatians) followers are of different types. Among them there are people whose understanding is feeble and whose sight is weak, who are over-come by stupidity and silliness and who know nothing of the sciences. And (among them may be ranked) the people of Iraq, the Kurds, a multitude of Persians and some stupid young people, the error of all of whom is of the same kind. 

And there had been people (among them) who threw the idols down and removed them. And among their followers there is a group the reign of whose ancestors had been cut off by the rise of the empire of Islam, like the Khusraws, the Dihqans and the children of the Magi... whose bosoms lodged the secret hatred which is like a secret illness. Behold the imaginations of the destroyers which kindle its flames (i. e. those of the secret illness). There are even some distinguished people among them, but a considerable number of their followers are heretics, philosophers and dualists who consider divine laws as common (mundane) laws (nawāmis mu'allifa) and the prophet's miracles as deceitful forgeries. 

10th-century Kurd in Spain

In the tenth century, a sixteen-year-old Kurdish boy from the frontier region of Qaliqala encountered a traveling group and saw in them an opportunity to escape the limitations of his humble background. Rather than identifying himself as a Kurd, he adopted their attribution and passed himself off as one of their own during his journey to Baghdad.

After completing his education there, he appears to have sought opportunities elsewhere, perhaps frustrated by the difficulty of securing the position he desired or by the circumstances of life in the east. He eventually made his way to al-Andalus, where he established himself as one of the leading philologists and grammarians of his age and later served as a tutor to al-Hakam II. History remembers him as Abu Ali al-Qali.

The account is particularly interesting because Abu Ali's biographers were fully aware of the circumstances surrounding his attribution. It offers valuable insight into how nisbas and ethnic designations could function in Arabic sources, especially for individuals of modest origins seeking social advancement. His story also helps explain why so many eastern scholars undertook the long journey to al-Andalus in search of patronage and opportunity.

Among biographers, al-Qifti preserves one of the most detailed accounts of Abu Ali's life. Despite biographers acknowledging the fabrication of his attribution, they did not abandon it. On the contrary, Abu Ali remained known as "al-Qali" throughout the biographical tradition and became the only widely celebrated figure to carry that nisba. 

The following passage comes from al-Qifti's thirteenth-century biography of Abu Ali and is presented in English translation for the first time:

Ismāʿīl ibn al-Qāsim ibn Hārūn ibn ʿAydhūn, Abū ʿAlī al-Qālī, known as al-Baghdādī

A resident of Egypt. He was a distinguished imam, scholar, transmitter of traditions, grammarian, linguist, and man of letters. His origins and birthplace were in Manzikert, from the Kurds of Armenia. He came to Baghdad in pursuit of knowledge in the company of people from Qālīqalā. They were shown honor, and he was honored along with them because of their association with the frontier district. As a result, he became known in Baghdad as al-Qālī.

In Baghdad he studied under leading scholars, including Ibn al-Anbārī, Ibn Durustawayh, Ibn Durayd, and others of their generation. He transmitted extensively from the scholars of his age. Later, he traveled to al-Andalus during the reign of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān.

Al-Zubaydī said:

"I asked Abū ʿAlī, 'Why are you called al-Qālī?'"

He replied:

"When we traveled down to Baghdad, we were in a caravan that included people from Qālīqalā. They were treated with special consideration because of their connection to the frontier. When I entered Baghdad, I attributed myself to Qālīqalā, even though it was merely a village in the district of Manzikert. I hoped that doing so would benefit me among the scholars." Thus the name al-Qālī remained attached to him. He died in Córdoba in Rabīʿ al-Ākhir of the year 356 AH (966 CE). 

Syncretic Kurds in Iran & Yazidis visting... Mecca

In the 19th century, Farahani wrote a book on his own pilgrimage to Mecca. A few uncommon accounts of Kurdish populations along the route are included in the work. It is remarkable to observe the syncretism among the Kurds (and others) in the present-day Iranian province of Alborz: 

One farsakh from Yangi Emâm there is a place by the name of Hashtgard, which is crown property. Its inhabitants are Kurds whose way of life is like that of the Naşiris. For the most part, they are highway robbers. There is a shrine in that village called the Emâmzâdeh Ja'far (after one of the descendants of Hazrat-e Musâ ebn-e Ja'far, peace be upon him). The people of that village, the village of Yangi Emâm, the surrounding villages, and the Kurds all have great faith in him. It is popularly thought that taking an oath [in his name] produces a result very quickly; in so far as possible, no one will swear by him. Some petty thefts which have occurred in the environs have [been resolved] by having the property immediately returned and given up if the people of Hashtgard have taken the trouble to have the inhabitants of the village swear by their emâmzadeh.

Farahani links particular tribes to his use of the Kurd-label. Determining whether the Kurds of Qazvin and other "unusual" places correspond to actual Kurdish tribes is enlightening. There is a correspondence between Farahani's use of the Kurd-label and contemporary usage in his instances because these tribes are still present and are self-described Kurds:

From the Qeshlâq guest-house one goes to the Kavandeh guest-house. It is four farsakhs. The road is red clay and is very muddy during the rainy season. All along this road between these two guest-houses dwell the "Goldsmith clansmen" of Qazvin, who are all highway robbers. Very stealthily and vilely, they engage in theft and kill the helpless. Every chance they get, by night and day, they come to the road as if begging; if they find two or three unarmed people, they rob them of their possessions. Also along this road is an area named Hajji Tappeh, which is the winter pasture for the Kurds of Qazvin. The people of Hajji Tappeh are also bandits and extremely wicked. They are usually mounted and armed. Every time they can, they separate ten or twelve riders from a caravan and rob them. Sometimes they also steal from the surrounding villages.

As for the Kavandeh guest-house, it is next to the village of Kavandeh, from which it derives its water supply. A garden planted with trees has been made in front of it. Its workers, horses, and rooms are like those of the other guest-houses. The village of Kavandeh does not have a qaleh. It is a very dirty village. About forty families live there. Its water is mostly river water that comes from Zardcheh Bostân. There is also a small qanât running through the middle of the village that provides enough water for the people's drinking water. This village was one of the wakf estates of Khomârtâsh. It is a wakf property for the Khiâbân mosque in Qazvin. Its inhabitants are Kurds of the Mâfi and Kubâr tribes. From the Kavandeh guest-house one goes four farsakhs to Qazvin. The road is smooth and level. It gets muddy during the rainy season, and it is extremely dry and dusty in summer. In the guest-houses along the way, nothing unusual was observed, except that food and drink were expensive for what one got. 

Past Kharzân, the road is constantly downhill in rolling country all the way to Pâchenâr. One and a half farsakhs after Kharzân, the post horses are left [behind] and one is compelled to go on foot. I sat for a while at a spring which flowed in the midst of the valley, and then, on horseback and by foot, after countless difficulties, I reached Pâchenâr. I traversed the route in seven hours. Pâchenâr village, which is by the road, consists of just one brick caravanserai and a post station. This caravanserai and post station are located on the bank of the Târom River. The Târom River flows from the Mollâ Ali valley and enters the Shah Rud River a little below the caravanserai.

The post station is a pleasant and attractive place with some willows and forest trees surrounding it. According to reports, Nâşer ol-Molk, during his first governorship of Gilân, had this post station constructed with sunbaked bricks, mud, and stone. Its construction is of good quality, and its horses are fine. The caravanserai is one of the constructions of Hajji Mohammad Hadi Tâjer Miânji. Pâchenâr is the winter pasture for the Chegni Kurds. At a distance of one maydân past the caravanserai, beside the road, there are about thirty small peasant houses to which the Kurds come in winter-time and in which they dwell. Pâchenâr is located low down in a valley. It is the first part of the land of Gilân. On the other side of the Kharzân pass, the weather is completely different. The soil, trees, shrubs, and steppe-land birds there are all different. There are some forest trees in the plains. About one maydân past Pâchenâr two or three rustic caravanserais of sun-baked brick and mud have been built by the road. Caravans usually stop at those caravanserais. Anyhow, I arrived in Pâchenâr three hours after sunrise, changed horses, and set out three hours before sunset. The road is rocky and generally passes along the left side of the mountain range. The Shah Rud River was visible to the right of the road, sometimes far off and sometimes close by. One farsakh past Pâchenâr one arrives at the Lowshân bridge.

Farahani uses his visit in Mecca as an opportunity to discuss the pilgrims' diversity. The pilgrimage from Ottoman Syria is a unique detail. From that direction, Yazidis were traveling to Mecca. Is this unexpected?

Every year from five hundred to fifteen hundred Syrian pilgrims come. They are Ottoman subjects. Most are of the Shafei rite. They also have [some] Khârejis and Yazidis. They come overland with the [ma]hmal of the Prophet. For years, Said Pasha has brought the [ma]hmal to Mecca in perfect order and regularity, [accompanied by] the amin-e sorreh, soldiers, and cannons. Enormous sums are given by the Ottoman government for this purpose. Since the Syrians are accompanying the [ma]hmal, they pay nothing for visas, tolls, etc. This year, due to it being the "Greater Pilgrimage," about 1,600 people had come.

Even without concrete historical proof, it shouldn't be shocking. For the primary reason that syncretic groups were historically categorized as "Muslim" by many Muslim authors. Another reason for obscurity in historical sources can be discovered by going back to the description of Hashtgard. In terms of various worldviews, Farahani's vocabulary was quite small. He did not have a specific name for the Hashtgardi religious congregation. He had the same issue as other writers of Islamicate history. Misrepresentation was coupled with a limited vocabulary.

The Medes (Kurds) allying with the Safavid Shah against the Ottomans

The following account of the Safavid reconquest of Tabriz from Ottoman rule in 1603 is drawn from the seventeenth-century Armenian historian Arakel. It is particularly noteworthy for its portrayal of the Kurds as the Medes, as well as for the insight it provides into the fluid political loyalties of Kurdish rulers during the Ottoman–Safavid struggle for control of the region: 

A certain Ghazi Khan (Beg), a Kurd, who was a grand nobleman and the ruler of the land of the Mar (Kurds), was pursued by the Ottomans; for the Ottomans wanted to kill him and rule over his principality. He, therefore, sent a loyal man named Khan Avdal ('Abdal) to the shah, requesting that he come and save him. He promised to be on the shah's side [in any ensuing conflict].

Another Kurdish grandee, named Ulama-oghli ('Olamā-oğli) Haybat Beg, did not send envoys, but came himself to the shah. The Georgian kings also wanted the Persians to rule their land, for they were outraged to the depth of their souls by the Ottomans, not as much for their oppression, as, especially, for the capture of their ruler, Simon Khan the Great. The Ottomans had seized him, taken him to Istanbul and killed him there. They also tricked his grandson, took him to Istanbul and killed him as well. Furthermore, there were many hostages of the Georgian kings at the Persian court: for example, the daughter and son of the above-mentioned Simon Khan of Tiflis; the son of King Alexander of Kakhet'i, who was named Constantine; and the brother of the atabeg¹ of Somkhet'i, named Tahmāsp-qoli. Many other Georgian hostages were in the hands of the Persian kings, as well.

From the land of Aghuank', from among the Armenians, came Sarukhan Beg and his brother Nazar, from the village of Voskanapat, the priest Oghlan and his brother Ghalabegi from the village of Hat'erk', Jalal Beg and his nephews from Khach'en, Melik Sujum from Dizak, Melik P'ashik from the village of K'ochʻiz, Melik Babē from the village of Britis, Bishop Melk'isēt' from the village of Me-likzada of Upper Zakam, and Melik Haykaz from the village of Khanatsakh in the land of K'shtagh (K'ashatagh). Moreover, all the inhabitants of four villages in Dizak left together and went to Persia. The shah settled them in the city of Isfahan. In addition, a third of the inhabitants of the small town called Dasht," which is located in the Goght'n gawar, near Agulis, immigrated to Persia and the shah settled them in the city of Isfahan as well. The reasons for the depar-ture of the people of Dizak and Dasht were the heavy taxes, extortion, destruction, and the violent and pitiless extermination of Christians [by the Ottomans]. They were all poverty-stricken, in debt, and without a way out; that is why they escaped to Persia. The men, whose names we have mentioned, were all notable men. They, as well as many other such persons, had gone to the shah, and the kat'oghikoi knew this. Moreover, it was clear to them that the shah would certainly come to the land of the Armenians. That is why they wished to go to him, to display their friendship to the shah and maybe to also gain his sup-port and aid against oppression and their debts.

After concluding all their meetings, Kat'oghikos Dawit' and Bishop Manuel of Khor Virap remained in Armenia. Kat'oghikos Melk'isēt', Bishop Manuel of Hawuts' T'ar, and Bishop Astuatsatur of Geghard left Tat'ew and traveled to Persia on some pretext. Once they crossed the borders of Persia, they continued their journey, without lingering, and traveled until they reached Isfahan. They ap-peared before Shah 'Abbās and told him of their intentions. The moment the shah heard and learned this, he was delighted in his soul and rejoiced in his mind. He cheered up physically and his happiness in those days was the greatest [happiness] he experienced throughout the rest of his life. As was characteristic of his insidious disposition, Shah 'Abbās began to extol them, gave them lavish gifts and offer-ings and invited them into his presence every day. He conversed with them about their goals and won their hearts. Feigning loyalty and friendship, he promised them great prosperity, and, with empty words, insidious and cunning ways, portrayed himself as a true friend. He thus managed to obtain all [their] secret thoughts. He learned of the ways into and out of their lands and [the names of] the men who were in charge. Realizing that their mouths spoke what was in their hearts, the shah ordered his military commanders to pre-pare the army to march. His order was immediately carried out. After that, the entire army moved in the direction of Tabriz against the Ot-toman forces, which had positioned their camp there, and were occupying Tabriz and its gawars.

The shah left Isfahan to go to Tabriz. He took all the notable men with him. They departed Isfahan on swift horses and reached Tabriz after several days. The Ottoman army was not prepared for the arri-val of the Persians, for the latter did not take long to reach Tabriz, but arrived within a few days. When Shah 'Abbās came to Tabriz, luck was with him. The governor of Tabriz, named 'Ali Pasha, who was the commander of all the Ottoman forces guarding the region, had gathered all his 20,000 men and had marched to the Salmast (Salmas) gawar against the aforementioned Kurdish lord, Ghazi Khan, for the Ottomans had learned the latter had severed his union with the Ottomans, had come to an agreement with the Persians, and had sent his confidant, 'Abdal Khan, to the shah. That is why the Ottoman troops had gathered and had gone to Salmas against Ghazi Beg. But, Ghazi Beg, prior to the arrival of the Ottoman army, had left Salmas, gone to the Urmiye gawar, and entered the impregnable fortress called Gogarch'in Ghalasi (Qal'e), located in the middle of Lake Urmiye, and fortified his position there. When 'Ali Pasha and the Ottoman army arrived in Salmas and saw that Ghazi Beg had left for Urmiye, he did not march on Urmiye, for he wanted to subdue the Salmas region and its fort first and then march to Urmiye against Ghazi Beg. Since there was only one strong fort, called Gharniea-rukh (Qarnī-yarūq) in Salmas, the Ottomans prepared to besiege it. The Ottoman army remained there for almost three months; they at-tacked the fort but could not take it.

While the Ottomans were attacking the fort of Qarnī-yarüq, the shah arrived in Tabriz. He left the city and moved against the Otto-man army. The Ottomans found out about the arrival of the Persians and when they ascertained that it was the shah himself who had come-for, prior to that, they thought it was just a general-they immediately abandoned their attack on the fort and moved toward the village of Sofian (Şufiān). There, on the field of Sufian, the two armies met each other in open battle. 'Olama-oğli Haybat' Beg dem-onstrated the greatest of bravery in this battle. 

The Ottomans sought to reverse their defeat by organizing a campaign to recapture Tabriz. Under the terms of their relationship with the Ottomans, a number of Kurdish rulers were obliged to participate in the expedition. When the Ottomans encountered what proved to be a carefully prepared trap, they marched into it nonetheless.

The episode also offers a revealing glimpse into the nature of Ottoman–Kurdish relations during this period. Despite their temporary alliances with the Ottomans at times, Kurdish rulers pursued their own interests and priorities. In this instance, there appears to have been little enthusiasm for sharing the Ottomans' fate: 

He then summoned all the great notables from the surrounding gawars, as well as from the Georgian and Kurdish provinces. Among them was the great no-bleman of the Kurds, whom they named Mirsharaf [Mir Sharaf]. He ordered all the commanders of the provinces and adjacent lands to gather in the city of Karin, that is, Erzurum. He ordered that each one assemble and fully prepare and arm his troops, march toward Van and join Ceğal-oğlū, when he arrived there, to go to Tabriz and fight the Persians.

After that, Ceğal-oğlū left Karin and went to Tigranakert, that is, Amida [Diarbekir]. He halted there to prepare and to gather an army from all the central provinces of Asia and Mesopotamia. The great and well-known pasha of the time, named Nasif Pasha, a native of the city of Beria, that is, Aleppo, also came to Amida and joined Ceğal-oğlū. They both prepared for war, for Nasif was equal to Ceğal-oğlū. These two gathered all the troops of the Ot-toman Empire, left Tigranakert, and came once again to Van. There they also gathered the troops from Kurdistan and Erzurum. A huge and innumerable army was formed. They left Van and marched to Tabriz. They reached the borders of that city, near a settlement called Sufian. The battle took place on the field of Sufian and the Ottoman army suffered a defeat. The much-experienced Shah 'Abbās divided the Persian army into four corps: he entrusted the first group to Allahverdi Khan and ordered him to advance overtly and openly against the Ottoman army. He entrusted the remaining three [corps] to his three notables: the first, to Gharch ghay (Qarchaqāy) Khan; the second, to Zu'l-Faqar Khan; and the third, to Pirbudagh (Pīr Būdāq) Khan. He or-dered that they hide and ambush the Ottomans from three sides. The shah, hidden with his ğulams, remained on top of a far-away moun-tain. When the day of the battle arrived, Allahverdi Khan came out with his troops and appeared before the Ottoman army. Seeing them, the Ottomans thought that the Persian army consisted of what they saw in front of them. They, therefore, eagerly attacked and began to fight. The Persians then, as previously agreed upon, gave a smoke signal. Seeing the smoke, those Persians that were hiding in ambush, rushed out, fell on the Ottomans, surrounded them on four sides and began the slaughter. They cut them to pieces and filled the field with corpses. It was a great disaster and a sad day [for the Ottomans]. The sardar remained in his camp, but he was in great sorrow, and, like a woman in childbirth with birth pangs, could not find rest or quiet anywhere. With a disturbed heart he glanced at the road leading to the battle, awaiting someone to bring him good news. But no one came. 

The great paron, the Kurd Mir Sharaf, whom we mentioned ear-lier, was at the side of the sardar. In his soul, he sensed that the sardar's side was defeated. That was why there was no news. He tried to find an excuse to leave the sardar and flee. He, therefore, ut-tered these false words of consolation, "I beg your excellency to order me to take the battlefield. Perhaps I will meet the shah and fight him [challenge him]." Responding to his numerous requests, the sardar ordered him to go into battle. Mir Sharaf, however, left the camp and turned directly toward his domain without even look-ing back. The Persian troops were victorious over the Ottoman army and put them to flight toward the Ottoman camp. They followed on their heels, killing them and pushing them right to the camp. The Persians entered the camp and began to kill the Ottomans there as well. Qar-chaqãy Khan came near the tent of the sardar, struck it with his sword, cut it and went through it, but none of the Ottomans came against him. The bloodletting continued until nightfall: the Persians killed some, put others to flight, captured others and threw them down by the shah's feet. They claim that thirty-four famous notables were captured: pashas, k'ehias, ğullar-ağasis, sancak-beys, and many others.

Commander of the Kurds in the Mamluk dynasty

Among the most important surviving documents on Mamluk policy toward the Kurds are these pages preserved by the fourteenth-century historian al-Umari. They reveal a remarkable aspect of Mamluk statecraft: the creation of a dedicated office for the "Commander of the Kurds" Its purpose was both strategic and political, to unite the Kurdish tribes against their common enemy, the Mongols. The passage offers a rare glimpse into how the Mamluk state viewed the Kurds.

Translated in full into English for the first time:

Let him (Commander of the Kurds) gather together the scattered branches of these tribes, reunite what has been divided among them, and reconcile the hearts of their leading men who have become estranged. Let him remove discord from among them, so that their strength may be directed against the unbelievers rather than against one another. Let him draw out their claws from one another, so that victory may be secured.

Let him impress upon them that our benevolence toward them is sincere and without deceit, and that even the smallest span of land we grant them is, in the sight of God and in their own estimation, better than all that they possess from the farthest reaches of Ajami lands to Shahrazur. Let him make known that the shelter of our domains is preferable for them to those rugged mountains, and that our secure lands are more fitting for them than those regions that are perpetually besieged or constrained.

Let him recognize the standing of their tribes among the various peoples and communities. Were all their groups united in purpose, they would not find enough horses for their riders. Let him honor among them those of noble houses, ancient authority, and lineages whose branches have risen to the heavens; men whose flashing swords and shining coats of mail have rivaled the brilliance of the sun.

Let him know that our abundant generosity is no trifling matter, and that our noble patronage extends to them all and kindles the fire of every tribe. Among us, the fortune of the Bakhtī is not diminished; we do not forget the Ḍisnī; we loosen the girdles of the Zarzārī only to clothe them in honorable garments; nor do we keep the Sahrī awake except so that they may afterward sleep with contented hearts. We do not burden the Randuwādī, and among them there is none but a man of worth and distinction.

The same applies to the rest of their people, whom beneficence has bound to us and whom generosity has taught not to forget what has been done for their lands and for the children they left behind.

You are their commander, and by God's will the one who will unite them in obedience. He is able, whenever He wills, to bring them together. Therefore, know every one of them, every dweller beneath tent-pole and wall, whether near at hand or far away.

Gather them beneath the wing of protection, unite them through the bond of concord, and keep them prepared for the struggle toward which we have turned our attention: readying themselves for warfare, donning armor for battle, and appointing leading men among them through whom your authority may reach every tribe, and through whom your strength may be reinforced...

A Kurdish chief & his Knight-lady in the 19th-century

Was the romantic atmosphere alive and well in mid-nineteenth-century Kurdistan? For some, yes. Brant, the British consul, recounts the story of a Kurdish chief and his Knight-lady, who stood by his side in resistance against the Ottomans:

Our host was an old Kurd chief; he had resisted Reshíd Mohammed Páshá, and his house was in consequence burned; he himself escaped to the mountains, but was afterwards forced to surrender; he was detained as a prisoner at Diyár-Bekr for a twelvemonth, and was then sent to his home and restored to the command of his old district, but his fortunes were ruined, his house destroyed, his dependents dispersed, and his two eldest sons had fallen victims to the climate of Diyár-Bekr. He himself was almost blind from cataracts forming in both eyes, which were nearly inatured; he asked Dr. Dickson for a remedy, and was much grieved to hear that he could not furnish one; he was told that an operation would alone relieve him, and to have that performed a journey to Constantinople was necessary; he said that was impossible, it was beyond his means.

 

This Hájí could scarce speak any Turkish, and he used a native of Diyár-Bekr, his scribe, as interpreter. I inquired through him how he was so imprudent as to attempt to resist Reshid Mohammed Páshá, invested as he was with authority from his sovereign. The Hájí replied that neither he nor his fathers were ever subjected to Páshás, or paid taxes to the Sultán, and he could not understand why he should be forced to do so; he had therefore resisted as long as he could.

 

Seeing most of us engaged in writing and reading (for he was always seated near the tents), he asked whether we could all write. I replied that most of our peasantry could do so. He said such an acquirement was an useless one to a man like him: since he had been able to handle arms he had scarce been for an hour in his life without being called on to use them, either in defending the property of himself and his dependents, or in revenging the injuries inflicted on them by their enemies. He remarked, with an evident feeling of regret for his now powerless and humbled station, that in his younger days he had arms, horses, followers, and money. He was now deprived of all these things. Without doubt, his want of power, the excitement of a turbulent life, added to his loss of sight, must render his present position, as compared with his former, anything but agreeable. His wife was a tall masculine woman. I was informed that whenever attacked at home she was always to be found at his side, loading his rifles while he was firing at the assailants. Such is the usual occupation of the warlike dames of Kurdistán, and not unfrequently they take a more active part in the strife.

Lady Adela, the exception?

More than a century ago, the English traveler Bannister Soane encountered a remarkable Kurdish couple in Halabja. Figures such as Adela Khatun are well known today, yet they are often portrayed as exceptional anomalies, rare examples of women participating in political or military affairs. In reality, the opposite direction is true in my opinion. Women taking part in battles and political life were likely far more common than surviving sources suggest.

What survives in written form represents only a tiny fraction of the past. Given the social structures, political dynamics, and character of many Kurdish tribes, it would be more surprising if ambitious and influential women had been excluded from military and political affairs. The women whose names have come down to us are therefore unlikely to have been unique exceptions. Rather, they were probably among the relatively few whose lives happened to be recorded in the limited body of sources that has survived.

Bannister Soane writes: 

The old Jaf Pashas had been forced to keep upon good terms with the dynasty of Ardalan, and from time to time marriages were effected between the Jaf and Ardalan chiefs and petty chiefs. 

These alliances were looked upon with great dis-favour and some alarm by the Turks, whose keenest desire is to see the Jaf on bad terms with their neigh-bours in Persia. Consequently when Uthman Pasha in 1895 announced his intention of marrying into the family of the Ardalan Vazirs, some futile opposition was offered by the Turkish Government. However, he pro ceeded to Sina and brought home to Halabja, then an insignificant village, as bride, a lady of the Vazir family whose father occupied an important position in Teheran. Once installed at Halabja, Lady Adela proceeded, aided by the prestige of her family, to assert her position, a procedure not opposed by Uthman Pasha. She built two fine houses, finer than any edifice in Sulaimania, upon the Sina model, importing Persian masons and artificers to do the work. Her servants were all Persian subjects, and in Halabja she instituted in her new houses a little colony of Persian Kurds, and opened her doors to all travellers from and to that country, and kept continual communications with Sina, five days' journey away. Gradually the official power came into her hands. Uthman Pasha was often called away to attend to affairs, and occasionally had to perform journeys to Sulaimania, Kirkuk, and Mosul on matters of govern-ment. So Lady Adela, governing for him in his absence, built a new prison, and instituted a court of justice of which she was president, and so consolidated her own power, that the Pasha, when he was at Halabja, spent his time smoking a water pipe, building new baths, and carrying out local improvements, while his wife ruled. 

She built a bazaar in Halabja, a square construction having four covered rows of shops connected by alleys of more shops, all covered in and domed with good brick arches, and trade flowed in to Halabja, which grew to considerable importance. Such importance did the place attain that the Turks actually grew jealous, and to obtain a hold over it, put up a telegraph line, to which the tribesmen objected, and expressed their objection by cutting down the wire. At the same time Lady Adela advised the Turks not to repair it, for she too objected to the incursion of Turks upon her territory, and warned them that as fast as they built up telegraph wires her people should cut them down. And so to-day Halabja possesses no telegraph line, though a uniformed official lives there and rejoices in the title of Post and Telegraph Master. Every summer, when the climate of Halabja becomes oppressively hot, the court of Lady Adela repairs to a little village in the hills, or to a town in Persian territory, where some three or four months are passed.

In and around Halabja Lady Adela has instituted the Persian fashion of making gardens, apart from the gardens around the houses, and now outside the little town are several of the graceful and thickly treed gardens which are only seen in Persia, gardens which are wildernesses of large shady trees, with unsuspected bowers and flower-beds in their shady depths. So here, in a remote corner of the Turkish Empire, which decays and retrogrades, is one little spot, which, under the rule of a Kurdish woman has risen from a village to be a town, and one hill-side, once barren, now sprinkled with gardens; and these are in a measure renovations of the ancient state of these parts.