“In the Steps of St. Paul.”

Kaikoura Star, Volume LVI, Issue 91, 19 November 1936, Page 4

“In the Steps of St. Paul.”

A SERIES OF ARTICLES BY

H. V. MORTON

ARTICLE No. 34

J have tried many a time to photograph the wolf dogs of Asia Minor. These animals are not, however, good subjects for the photographer, who is always either in flight from them, or too far off to get any result. They are muscular creatures almost the size of a Great Dane. They wear collars' fitted with four-inch iron spikes as a protection against wolves, who always go for their throats. The spiked collars, by the way, was once general throughout Europe, and the brass studs on the collars of our .bull-dogs are a survival of these spikes and a link with days before the last wolf was slain in England. Most travellers in Asia Minor have commented on the ferocity of the wolf dajys, but few have praised their splendid bodies and magnificent heads. They are creamy white, with two bars of dark brown running down the muzzle below the eyes, and a shading of lighter brown from the eyes upward to the ears. In middle age they develop a mastiff-like jowl and an intellectual wrinkle of fur over the eyes. Their speed when running is, for such heavy animals, astonishing. They arc absolutely fearless, and will tackle, singlejawed, two or three wolves. • • » • • The wolf dog is an amusing and delightful little fellow in infancy. He runs to fat, although where he obtains his nourishment is a 'mystery. He exhibits the most touching astonishment when picked up and made a fuss of; for such things do not usually happen to dogs in Asia Minor. His muzzle, which, in later life, develops two bad-ger-like ridges of dark hair, is in puppyhood a uniform blackish-brown, just as if he had pushed his nose into a bag of soot. When I was crossing the plain near Kara Dagh, I passed flock after flock of sheep, thousands in each flock, wandering slowly, as they do during the spring, over the tough scrub. When half a mile from a flock, two white bodies would detach themselves and come bounding towards my car, baying | savagely. Catching up with the car, these dogs would run snarling alongside, snapping their jaws at the tyres. • • ♦ • • Becoming tired of this, just to see what would happen. I ordered the driver to stop. The dogs were astonished. Their ferocity vanished. They sniffed round the car, looking rather foolish. I addressed a few kind words to them "through the window, which created another storm of savage baying. Then I threw to them the only food I had with me, the remains of a stale loaf. They leapt on the bread and devoured it ravenously, but they were so timid that they would not touch it if east too near the car. While they were springing on the bread, I managed to get an indifferent snap-shot. But it showed th; spiked collar round the neck of one dog. On the edge of a bleak plain, and backed by a snow-dusted mountain called Haji Baba—Pilgrim Father—l 'came to all that is left of the town of Derbe, one of the cities that accepted without question, and with gladness, the teaching of Paul. Like Lystra, which I described previously, there -is nothing left of the ancient town but a rounded hill scattered with millions of fragments of broken pottery. Walking over the hill, I came upon fragments of granite, marble, and porphyry, which told of the splendid temples and statues that stood there centuries ago. The only sign of life was a small Tunkish village called Zosta, or Losta. A villager told us that the name had recently be changed to Akar Kuey. We could see a group of flat-roofed houses, a tangle of stone walls with a domed mosque rising in the middle. The mosque, we discovered, was of Seljuk origin. As we walked down to the village, twenty or thirty wild dogs came leaping out at us and were driven off by the villagers. With the good sense of dogs, they refrained from barking at us once they saw that Mustafa and I had established friendly relations with their masters: but they would have no social contact with us. About seventy men came sauntering out, full of curiosity, women peeped from behind stone walls, and children ran inquisitively all round us. In the middle of the crowd I saw an astonishing sight. A group of men were leading a suspicious and indignant looking ram. A wreath of hill flowers were set round its horns. There were coins hanging in its fleece. Across its back was hung a strip of vivid cloth. “Ah, it is a wedding!’ 1 cried Mus-

tufa. “They arc going to sacrifice the ' animal to bring good luck to the bride . and bridegroom.’’ Although I knew that peasants in remote places in Turkey still observe all kinds of strange customs and superstitions that date from Greek and Roman times, I was astonished suddenly to come on animal sacrifice. ***** Only a few miles from this village, at Lystra, the people, thinking that Paul and Barnabas wore gods, had brought “oxen and garlands unto the gates” with the object of sacrificing them. And here I was, in the year 1936, watching the descendents of the people mentioned in the Now Testament bringing a ram garlanded for sacrifice. We joined the crowd that poured between the stone walls. So great was the confusion and crush that I was unable to follow the sacrifice, and found myself pushed up a flight of steps to the upper room of a house. “Will you' please enter?” said Mustafa. “They wish you to take part in the wedding celebrations.” ; I saw a small door leading into a room. I bent down, took off my shoes, and stepped inside. The room was swept and prepared for the wedding celebrations. Striped camel rugs were set all round the wall, leaving a vacant space in the centre. The room was about five yards long by four yards wide, and there must have been at least fifty men in it squatting on the rugs. The ciders of the village were gathered together. With the reserved, unexcitable temperament of the Turk, which is so different from, that of the Arab, ‘.bey stood with outstretched hands, bidding me welcome. (Article No. 35 will appear in our next issue).