Graybill of Azianlu

By E. M. Clifford

In the nineteenth century, Mary Lyon at Mount Holyoke College developed a progressive ideal of useful womanhood: serious, educated, devoted to service, skilled in domestic arts, and ready for leadership. Her disciple Fidelia Fiske took up the unlikely challenge of applying the Mount Holyoke approach to the education of young women and girls in a remote corner of northwestern Persia.
In 1906, Nan Graybill joins the Presbyterian Mission in Persia as principal of the Fiske Seminary for Girls near Urmia. It's her job to pursue the task of training her students in these feminine virtues, now modified and updated for the twentieth century. She considers herself a "modern missionary," aiming for social gospel objectives. But in 1914, the outbreak of war between Ottoman Turkey and Tsarist Russia threatens to trample the Urmia province into dust. The Syriac-speaking Christian community there--Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant--becomes one of the most tragic casualties of the Great War.
Nan Graybill and her Assyrian colleagues must lead the school community through this crisis with their own creativity, dedication, tenacity, competence, and courage. Together, they find new ways to endure and to prevail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Feb 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781666756555

E. M. Clifford

E. M. Clifford served as reference and archives librarian at the William Smith Morton Library of Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond (1999–2020) and for ten years as instructor and academic librarian at the Evangelical Theological Seminary in Cairo. Clifford is the author of Northern Africa: A Guide to the Reference and Information Sources (2000), The Literature of Islam: A Guide to the Primary Sources in English Translation (2006), and the novels Galloway of Buraan (2022) and Graybill of Azianlu (2023).

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Preface

This work relies first and foremost upon primary sources—memoirs, correspondence, institutional records and reports—chiefly from Presbyterian mission and American Foreign Service personnel, but also those of British officers, Anglican missionaries and others. The colorful accounts of travelers in northwestern Persia, such as Isabella Bird Bishop and A.V. Williams Jackson, have also proved valuable.

Scholarly studies (Gaunt, Joseph, Becker, Yacoub, Robert, and many others) have been very useful in placing these immediate recollections into larger contexts. They have also provided access to other documentary materials, such as the French Lazarist Annales de la Congrégation and German, French, and Russian Foreign Office and military archives. Official Turkish records from the Ottoman Imperial Army and the Ministry of the Interior, often available verbatim or in facsimile form, have helped to establish the aims and methods of the government in Constantinople in dealing with the people dwelling among Turkey’s far southeastern mountains and in the contested border region of what is now Iran.

It is regrettable that any history of this time period, in the location concerned, necessarily portrays some Turks, Kurds and Persian Muslims in an unfavorable light. Evidence of atrocities planned and committed by certain members of these communities is extensive, unchallengeable, and overwhelming. There are also authentic accounts of those who tried to protect and assist the victims of deportation and massacre. But the intense program of ethnic cleansing undertaken by Ottoman Turkish military and political authorities, with Kurdish and Persian participation, cannot be depicted otherwise.

Likewise, the acts of courage and compassion performed by persons of all religions and nationalities in this narrative are taken directly from the historical record.

Even the fictional individuals in this book can trace their origin to actual persons. Nan Graybill and her sister Wellie Prior have antecedents in the ABCFM missionaries Mary Louise Graffam and her sister Winona Partridge in Sivas, Turkey. The American Consul Charles Patterson is a composite character based upon Leslie A. Davis in Harput and Gordon Paddock in Tabriz, both of whom conducted themselves with honor during the most difficult years a consul could experience. Other characters also represent known and documented persons, including the Turkish Consuls, the Persian Governor, and Ömer Naci. The Fiske Seminary, the American Mission compound in Urmia, the French and German missions, and even the Dunsterforce, are all authentic as well.

The character of Mattiah Stead is loosely based upon the American Presbyterian missionary William Ambrose Shedd, who gave his life in service to the people of Persia. Many of his views and opinions are taken from Shedd’s published writing, correspondence, and the biography written by his widow Mary Lewis Shedd, a redoubtable individual in her own right.

The fascinating story of the early missionary efforts of the ABCFM in this area, and the experiences of Assyrian Patriarch Mar Shimun of Qudshanis, his sister Surma, and the Anglican mission to the mountain people, lie unfortunately outside the scope of this work.

The timeline of events during the turbulent years of 1910–1920 has been simplified for narrative purposes. But the events themselves are taken from first-person accounts and other contemporary sources, as well as reliable scholarly information. They have not been sensationalized or exaggerated in any way; in fact, often one simple incident is used to represent an appalling and intolerable mass of experiences that defy description.

The geography of the region has been slightly adapted as well, but not in a significant way.

A word about the terminology used to define the Christian populations of the region: Nestorian, Assyrian, Chaldean, etc. The terms proliferated and varied over time. Some were imposed upon them from without by Orientalist scholars, some by their near neighbors, and some were chosen by themselves. The non-Armenian Christians of Anatolia, northern Mesopotamia, the Hakkari mountains, and northwestern Persia or Azerbaijan belong to many distinct linguistic, denominational, and social units, and their titles are fraught with implications for their ethnic or national allegiance, religious identity, legendary historical associations, and personal self-awareness. I have chosen to use the terms that were current at the time, as the individuals concerned probably would have used them.

October 1910—May 1911

Chapter 1

Nan Graybill was not even a bit surprised when she opened the box of chocolates and found that it was filled instead with small round stones.

Thank you so very much, she said, smiling warmly at her guests. Please forgive me if I don’t share them round right now. I do like to have something special to bring to the patients at the hospital. This was literally true, though perhaps a falsehood by omission. She did indeed carry gifts and treats to the patients. But this box would not be among them.

I hope the chocolates are not melted. They were brought all the way from Tabriz, said the father of the prospective student in her office.

No . . . no, they are not melted at all, said Miss Graybill, again avoiding the full truth adroitly.

Who had pilfered the gentleman’s precious chocolates without his knowledge? A child, a servant, a junior wife? It was not clear, but the little girl was avoiding her gaze. Nan had an idea what that meant.

I am told that girls who attend your school become better wives and mothers, and in every way better women, than any others, the father said. They learn honesty, good manners, modest behavior, order, diligence, and proper female obedience. My wife was never educated, but I am determined that my daughters shall be.

We do consider it a priority that our girls achieve all of the skills necessary to run a well-managed household, Nan replied. They must master personal hygiene and grooming, the preparation of decent and suitable clothing for the family, the effective and thrifty use of time and money, conscientious care for all dependents—including children, the sick, the elderly, and domestic animals—and the virtues of good citizenship. Naturally, this requires also developing the inner qualities of self-discipline, courtesy, kindness, and above all, faithfulness to God and adherence to Christian ideals of character.

The father shifted uncomfortably and licked his dry lips. Madame, he began. New parents were always confused about what to call Miss Graybill, having very little experience of a woman in authority. We do wish our little Yashmi to obtain all of these qualities. But we must stipulate that she shall not be required to attend chapel exercises or any Christian religious instruction.

Then you ask the impossible, said Miss Graybill. Our worship services, Bible lessons and religious instruction are, in fact, the source of the very qualities you seek. All of our students are required to be present at worship, to study the Scriptures, and to learn to pray. What you teach them at home is your business, but what they learn at school is ours.

There was a long pause, while the father wrestled with this concept. Nan knew that he was the master of an upper-class Persian family, and of course a Shi‘i Muslim. She knew he was aware that places at the Fiske Seminary for Girls were in great demand, and that if he could not accept the terms, some other family’s daughter would get Yashmi’s place. They both knew that Miss Graybill was wielding considerable power and would not be deterred.

The interview was conducted in Azeri Turkish, the colloquial language of northwest Persia. People of all religious and ethnic backgrounds used it in daily life. Turning to the little girl, Nan continued in a friendly voice, Yashmi . . . such a lovely name. As I recall, in Persian it means ‘jade green,’ a fine and delicate color.

Yashmi, a beautiful child of five with huge liquid eyes, looked up at her now. Her small face was still frightened, not sure if her theft would be exposed.

"You know, Yashmi, it is in the nature of human beings to make mistakes, even to sin deliberately. Every one of us is guilty of such offenses against God and our neighbor. It’s what we do with our sins and errors that matters. Do we continue in them, become ever more brazen and hardened? Or do we open our hearts to God and ask him to forgive us?"

The child was watching her now with a softening expression.

When we do wrong, we must learn from our mistakes and try to do better. Do you understand this?

Yashmi stared at her silently for a moment, then said in a whisper, "Evet." Yes.

You should say, ‘Evet, Miss Graybill.’

Evet, mishgaybul.

Close enough, said Nan with a smile. Yashmi’s father had witnessed this exchange without fully comprehending it, but he felt the genuine kindness drawing out the child’s response.

Madame—please—may I enroll Yashmi now? I can agree to your conditions.

Yes, you may, and welcome, Mirza Armeen. Please have a word with my office assistant, Mr. Farhad, in that office, through there. He will discuss with you our fees and boarding arrangements. If at any time you have doubts or questions about Yashmi’s educational progress, please come and see me again.

Thank you, Madame. Peace be upon you.

And upon you peace.

After the Armeens had left, Nan stood up and shook herself, moving her head and shoulders to dispel the tension that had settled there. She left the room quickly, running directly into two girls in the hallway outside.

Good morning, Miss Graybill! they cried, full of smiles, throwing out their arms for a hug.

Good morning, Anna! Good morning, Meleki! she replied, embracing them. A little bit late this morning, are we?

Sorry! Sorry! Just going now! they exclaimed, rushing off.

Nan stood in the hallway long enough to prompt Miss Surma to approach her. Surma had been at the Fiske School since she was a tiny child like Yashmi, and was now a mature and respected teacher in her thirties. Nan had known her well for four years now, since Nan had joined the American Mission. She loved and trusted Surma as a colleague and as a friend.

Is anything wrong, Miss Graybill? Are you feeling well?

Oh, Miss Surma, I’m fine. I only . . . well . . . I hate having to be the voice of authority, laying down the law. I just had to spell out our policies for a dubious father . . . I mean, I can’t blame him for wondering what we will do to his dear little daughter. We know what our standards are, and why we observe them, and of course our donors expect no less. And we also know that we can take a wild, spoiled, or neglected little creature and train her up to be a lady. But behaving like that makes me feel so false. It’s like a disguise I put on to get my job done.

Surma moved close to her and put an arm around her waist. There was a lot of innocent physical affection at the Fiske School.

If I don’t put on that persona, who will listen to me? Nan went on. I was thrust into this position as principal the moment I got here, ready or not. Everyone expected me to be the reincarnation of Fidelia Fiske, just because I went to Mount Holyoke College!

But you do this job so well, Surma said. You lead the community with dedication and love. You live as an example. You inspire us. I doubt that Fidelia Fiske herself could do better.

Surma, you are so kind. Please forgive my silly complaining.

Not at all, she replied. I suspect that a bit of a break would do you good. It’s Saturday. We have classes only till noon, and then chore time. Let the rest of us supervise that. You should pack a few things, and ride into Urmia to visit Mrs. Lincoln. Stay there tonight and spend the Sabbath with them tomorrow.

Surma’s encouragement was just what Nan Graybill needed. But it wasn’t as simple as that. Before leaving, Nan had to complete the day’s work. She went to the kitchens and storerooms to plan purchases for the coming week: an exacting process requiring a knowledge of local weights and measures, current prices in the market, seasonal commodities and their keeping quality, and the skills and availability of school staff to buy and prepare everything. She had to check supplies of wheat, yeast, salt and other staples, and order butter churned, milk strained, drinking water filtered, oil rebottled, rice cleaned, sugar or pepper or flour ground as needed. Providing three sound meals every day for ninety-five girls and for their teachers and all caregivers was no light task. And now there were ninety-six.

There was a complaint about a worker to deal with, a case of several unexcused absences. She had to send a man out with the afternoon post and messages, including a note to the Lincolns to let them know that she was coming. The scullery was entirely out of clean dishtowels. Fortunately, Saturday’s laundry work had already begun. A new teacher needed help with her lesson plans for the coming week; she was a capable student of mathematics but had no experience in teaching the subject. The world history teacher in the Upper School came to report that only half of the textbooks they expected from Tabriz had arrived. And she had to check on the progress of the workmen who were building a new shed for the storage of camel-thorn and firewood for the coming winter.

At last she had a moment to pack her overnight things in a couple of khurjin carpet-bags, then explain where she was going, to everyone who needed to know. Davud the stable manager had saddled horses for her and himself. She needed an escort every time she left the premises.

The Fiske Seminary for Girls was one of the solid multi-story buildings within the sixteen-acre compound dominated by the American College, the secondary school for boys. The College included a boarding department and facilities for academic, theological and medical training. The Westminster Hospital occupied a full quadrant of the enclosure. Beautiful mature sycamores shaded the campus; flower beds—now filled with marigolds and late ruddy roses—and a broad lawn were intersected by trenches of running water. Massive walls surrounded the whole. There was one heavy gate, through which Nan and Davud trotted comfortably on good animals to begin the forty-minute ride into the city of Urmia.

The slanting afternoon sun was still pleasantly warm, and glowing color surrounded them in autumn tones. Masses of white and purple clouds threw distinct shadows upon the cultivated basin and the range of Kurdish mountains along its western edge. It was the first of October. Harvest work was fully under way. Patient oxen waited for their carts to be piled high with the dry golden hay, or with great stacks of melons and gourds. Beans, potatoes, and the last planting of wheat still filled the fields with their vivid green. Orchards of ripe pomegranates and pears—as beautiful as a palace garden—were ready for attention. Everywhere, men were quickly gathering heavy loads in their arms, in baskets or big coarse sacks; women were deftly separating seeds from the sunflowers and castor-beans from their pods, binding up great bundles of herbs, or twisting garlic and bright red peppers into long strands for curing. Little boys minded the oxen, driving them from place to place with long thin osiers of willow, while girls were assigned to the sheep and the fowl that nobody else had time for during this busy season. It was the very image of productivity and industry.

But the primary work of the autumn harvest was seeing to the vineyards. Grapes were the money crop of the Azianlu basin, and cartloads of them must be turned into raisins. Some grapes were eaten fresh, a small number became wine for Christian worship, and some produced a thick sweet syrup called pekmez that was used for cooking throughout the year. But raisins were processed and exported by the ton, chiefly into Russia. Drying floors were constantly covered by heaps of vines, until the sun caused the fruit to fall from their stems and transform into wrinkled seedless kishmish. Then they were cleaned, sifted, sorted, packed into boxes, and covered by sheepskins to protect the fruit from any early rains.

Nan’s heart rejoiced at the beauty of it all, the warmth of the sun and the cool dry air, the physical exercise of riding well, the pleasure of being young and healthy