Along Untrodden Paths: Twenty-Five Years in East Turkestan

The Swedish Mission Covenant’s mission to the heathen has celebrated its 25th anniversary in Congo and China. And now the Covenant is prepared to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the beginning of its mission work also in Eastern Turkestan. It therefore seems appropriate to give the friends of the mission an overview of this mission field as well, of its conditions in the past and present, and through a few illustrative events to sketch something of the hardship and grace that the mission and its workers have experienced during these 25 years.

This is precisely the purpose of the present work. It consists of a collection of such sketches of prevailing conditions and experiences encountered there, viewed from different angles and written by different individuals. The authors have certainly taken on different topics to treat, but clearly one has not been able to avoid touching on the same matters as another, especially since they have worked in different parts of the area.[1] Yet they all have this in common: they have described only what they have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears. For they are all missionaries there. And some have worked there from the very beginning of this mission. Thus, this work offers no fanciful inventions but only witnessed realities. Yet in these witnessed realities the reader will everywhere see God’s guiding and helping hand more clearly than in many fictional or literary accounts that often receive great and general acclaim.

We are therefore convinced that this work will grant the reader not only momentary enjoyment but also lessons suited to strengthen faith in God and in the One He has sent. The Lord does not let His own perish or allow the work He has set in motion through them to be lost, even if the obstacles and difficulties encountered are ever so great. In this mission the obstacles have been many and great from the very beginning. But through perseverance, faith, and prayer they have been able to be overcome, even if they could not be removed entirely. And the barren soil of Muhammedanism, which the Covenant’s workers have begun to cultivate here, will surely in due time yield its harvests as well. Perhaps here too “one sows and another reaps.” But in such a case the Saviour has promised that both the one who sows and the one who reaps will rejoice together. The work of reaping is glorious, but the work of sowing is no less glorious, since the harvest depends upon it. If it should be granted to others to enter into our work here and reap what we have sown, may that grace be granted to them. Nevertheless, we thank God for the grace that has been given to us.

No mission has any outward attractions, and mission among Muhammedans has them least of all. The strongholds of Muhammedanism are firm and deeply intertwined with its adherents’ innate inclination toward a life according to evil and unnatural lusts. A pioneering mission work among such a people will therefore hardly be appreciated by contemporaries, who look only at immediate results. But when the heroes of the preparatory work have completed their task and gone to their rest, those who will build on the foundation laid will call them blessed who were entrusted with the great grace of carrying out the gigantic task of the beginning work. They will understand and appreciate its significance. May this thought guide the reading of this work and the evaluation of what is here offered to be seen.

How lost and forgotten the missionary must often feel in this remote land, where he stands separated from the rest of the world by perpetually snow-covered mountain ranges that rise high above the clouds, and by inhospitable desert expanses where entire caravans have perished. To be surrounded on all sides by these unassailable barriers and cut off from all civilization and all refined fellowship, year after year to endure in the patience-testing work of awakening interest in the Christian faith, in virtue and good morals, among indolent, indifferent, hostile, and in every way morally corrupted human beings—this requires more than human strength. But the present work shows what a power the strength of God is in those who surrender themselves to God in faith and obedience. And to behold this revelation of God’s power in those who believe is as glorious and uplifting as to behold God’s power working in the nature that surrounds us. Everything God does is glorious and admirable and calls forth His praise.

The country is under Chinese administration, and therefore Chinese is the official language and the officials are Chinese. But among the population the Chinese constitute a very small number. Yet for the reasons stated, a separate mission to the Chinese has also had to be undertaken. This mission struggles against equally great opposition as the Muhammedan one. The few Chinese who are there are immigrants from different provinces in the interior of China and speak very different dialects. Their interests are also directed toward other things than knowledge of God and the One He has sent. They have come to secure temporal livelihood. And for their eternal welfare they are lulled into the deepest security. Nor do they have eye, ear, or interest in the blessings of Christianity in this life. But the missionaries persevere. And their reports in this work show that they do not struggle entirely in vain. Here too, according to their own experience-based conviction, it is a matter of sowing in hope. In particular, school work must be of future importance for the victory of the Christian faith and for the introduction into the country of a more blessed culture than the one now prevailing. Rapid transformations seldom have lasting value. But changes that grow and are cultivated naturally, one from the other, endure better through trials. And what this memorial volume demonstrates is precisely that the mission in Eastern Turkestan is in the process of bringing about such changes among both Muhammedans and Chinese.

The missionary congregation must not expect to see its work completed immediately anywhere, and least of all in Muhammedan lands. But the strongholds of falsehood will eventually be broken through, and the Lord Christ will have confessors among all peoples, even among the Muhammedan ones. And when the redeemed from every nation, tribe, and tongue one day march into God’s kingdom, companies from the Muhammedan world will be among them. And then it will be seen that our work there has not been in vain.

Stockholm, April 1917.

J. P. NORBERG.

[1] Repetitions concerning the same matter should therefore be kindly excused.

By JOHN TÖRNQUIST

What drove you to leave what was dearest,
your home, your friends and kin,
the homeland where your memories are kept
among smiling valleys and shores?
What drove you toward the East’s desolate paths,
who gave you strength for the battle you fought,
when old bonds had to break
for this, the strong, the last?

Did a seeking desire drive toward gold and power,
toward comfort, toward freedom and honour?
In Asia’s poor desert tracts
no gold can you carve from the clay;
an Eden in the saga’s shimmering hue
is not sought among the East’s deserts and mountains;
no freedom is born among graves
that hide only bones of slaves.

I know what drove you: this strong Love,
which goes out to seek the wandering sheep
into the gloomiest wilderness,
where dangers constantly grow.
And the strength to sever hindering bonds
was given by the same gracious hand,
and He Himself walks by your side
to teach your arm to fight.

You do seek honour, though your lot
is not praised in earthly ways—
you are but the voice of one crying,
a trembling tone through the mist.
Your honour, your reward, prepared above the sky,
yet often veiled by fogs from your sight,
when the goal recedes farther
and hope of success fades.

What more! If in faithfulness on lonely watch
you stand to serve your Master,
“to the one who serves Me,” He has said,
“my Father shall bestow honour.”
And if you fall before glimpsing success,
what you honestly willed, not what you lost,
shall be gathered, nothing can be ravaged,
for the harvest is reaped by angels.

By G. RAQUETTE

Far within the centre of the Old World lies the inaccessible and still comparatively little-known land called East Turkestan. To distinguish it politically from West Turkestan, which is a Russian possession, it is often called Chinese Turkestan. The Chinese call the province containing this region Sinkiang (“the New Possession”). More precisely, the country lies between 74° and 97° east longitude from Greenwich and 35° to 48° north latitude — that is, directly north of Tibet and India and at approximately the same latitude as Spain. It is surrounded by border mountain ranges and is considered to form the bed of an ancient inland sea. In recent times geographers have called the southern part the Tarim Basin on account of its peculiar surface formation. A considerable portion of the land consists of barren deserts which, however, in earlier times were at least partly fertile and populated regions.

The great Gobi Desert forms the eastern boundary, and in the middle of the Tarim Basin lies the Taklamakan Desert, which is only a branch of the Gobi. To the west East Turkestan is bounded by the Tian Shan, the Alai, and the Pamir plateaus; to the south by the Karakorum (“the Black Wall”), Kunlun, and Altun-tagh (“the Gold Mountains”); and to the north by the Altai range (“the Gold Mountains”). To the east the natural boundary appears only at the mountains of China, although the southern part of the Gobi Desert stretches in between. From the west, the alpine chain of the Tian Shan (“Heavenly Mountains”), glittering with eternal snow, projects directly into the northern part of the country, so that one commonly speaks of the land north of the Tian Shan and the land south of the Tian Shan.

Where rivers descending from the mountains flow, the land presents a picture of fertility and vibrant life; but places not reached by their life-giving waters show the desolation and death of the desert. Only in the mountain regions does sufficient rain fall, and therefore the whole country below depends upon an artificial irrigation system that has existed and been maintained since time immemorial. The most important rivers are the Yarkand River (called Zerafshan, “the gold-scatterer,” in its upper course), the Kashgar River or Kizil-su, the Khotan River or Ilchi, and the Aksu and Toshkan rivers. All these converge into a main river, which under the name Tarim carries their remaining waters eastward and southeastward to Lob-Nor, a marsh region in the eastern part of the country. A peculiarity of these rivers is that most gradually shift their channels toward the right; this probably explains the curious fact that towns and cultivated areas are almost always found on the left bank. Only one river, the Cherchen River in the southeast, empties directly into Lob-Nor. Many smaller streams also exist; after irrigating land they dry up and disappear into the desert sands. North of the Tian Shan the Ili River flows westward into Lake Balkhash and therefore has no connection with the other river systems of the country.

East Turkestan is a highland lying at an average elevation of 1,000–1,500 meters above sea level. In the surrounding mountain chains, some peaks reach great heights, such as Khan Tengri in the Tian Shan (7,300 m), Muztagh-Ata in the Pamir (7,800 m), as well as Dapsang in the Karakoram (8,600 m) and Mount Everest in the Himalaya (8,800 m). The climate shows sharp contrasts — almost tropical heat in summer and winters of penetrating cold, sometimes reaching −20°C. Another cause of the continual reshaping of the land surface, besides the rivers’ shifting channels, is the annually recurring violent sandstorms, which each time move thousands of tons of desert sand from one region to another.

The principal cities, all located along rivers, are Kashgar and Hancheng (New Kashgar), Yangi-Hissar, Yarkand, Khotan, Cherchen, Maralbashi, Aksu, Uch-Turfan, Ili, Turfan, Karashahr, and Urumchi. The last is now the capital of the province of Sinkiang and the seat of the provincial governor. Between these places and with China, India, Tibet, and Russia a lively trade has existed since ancient times. Communication outward proceeds over difficult mountain routes where everything must be transported by horse, donkey, or camel. Only toward China is there a road usable by wheeled vehicles. A traveller can by this means reach Peking in about ten, possibly eight, months. The route to China now passes through the northern part of the Taklamakan, but a few centuries ago, when the southeastern corner of the desert was cultivated and populated, the road ran through those regions. Almost the entire territory with several rich cities has now been mercilessly swallowed by the desert.

As for the population of East Turkestan, no exact figures can be obtained. Official census results are unreliable because people evade registration through various clever methods in order to avoid taxation. Swedish geographers estimated the inhabitants at 1,000,000, while The Statesman’s Year Book, relying on official data, gives 1,200,000. Considering the circumstances mentioned above, we may without exaggeration double this figure, arriving at 2,400,000 — the same maximum estimate reached by Marshall Broomhall in Islam in China. Yet even this total for the whole province is probably too low.

By L. E. HÖGBERG

We stood upon a moraine height about 10,000 feet above sea level. Below us and before us spread a mountainous land of unusual beauty. In the foreground, we had the soft, arched lines of the moraine heights, rendered in a yellowish-brown hue; in the middle ground, vast, dark mountain masses with sharp contours and wild forms; and in the background lay one mountain range behind another, like high wave crests on a turbulent sea, forming four or five valleys, each several kilometers wide. The July sun shone over us in all its intense brilliance. The various mountain formations stood out sharply, and their shifting play of colors, reaching all the way to the light pale-blue tone at the horizon, gave the scene an extraordinary beauty.

As we observed the scenery, the horizon to the left darkened. Black, heavy cloud masses gathered. Driven by the storm, they were swept forward into one of the valleys. The same storm that chased the clouds also raged with violent speed across the valley floor, lifting great swirls of dust up toward the clouds. These now began to discharge their contents in a heavy rain, which to our eyes looked like a cloudburst. The intensely heated, dry air seemed to completely absorb the falling rain, which never reached the surface of the earth to settle its dust. The storm, the dust swirls, the clouds, and the rain followed that one valley exclusively, while all the others were bathed in the most glorious sunshine. Heavy shadows were cast from the clouds down to the earth, which in their dark variations of color resembled islands in the ocean. It was a scene worthy of being captured on canvas with a brush. “Great are the works of the Lord; sought out by all them that have pleasure therein.”

By AD. BOHLIN

As a result of its location in the heart of Asia and being surrounded on almost all sides by peripheral mountains—some of which are among the most extensive and highest on Earth—East Turkestan has a pronounced continental climate, which exhibits extreme contrasts between heat and cold.

Summer, which practically lasts from March through September, is very hot, and temperatures can reach 40°–45°C in the shade. Precipitation is extremely sparse, and occasionally years may pass without a single drop of rain falling. Under a nearly constantly clear sky, the heat becomes unbearable, and one might believe that everything would be scorched. All of nature, as it were, yearns for water.

Winter is far colder than the latitude would suggest, and due to the dryness of the air, the cold feels significantly more piercing than in countries located much further north. The severest cold prevails during January. As a rule, it snows a few times during the course of the winter, but the snow remains for only a few days and is, as it were, eroded away—hardly even making the ground damp.

Autumn and spring are the most pleasant seasons. During both day and night, the most agreeable temperature prevails. The only thing that detracts from the extraordinary glory of spring is the frequently occurring storms, which arise suddenly and with extreme violence but usually cease after a few hours. The layer of dust that more or less covers the entire country is thereby stirred up into massive clouds, which for weeks obscure the sun, which is then seen as if through a veil. With an easterly wind, these storms usually bring a yellowish dust from the great deserts, which gives houses, trees, and everything an unpleasant appearance and penetrates everywhere. These “yellow days” are much dreaded, and without a doubt, they are anything but beneficial for health and well-being. Fortunately, not all storms leave behind dust clouds; instead, some clear the air so that it becomes unusually clear and transparent. The Pamir Mountains, located 15 to 20 mil (approx. 150–200 km) from Kashgar and covered in eternal snow, then appear as if they were quite near and offer a view that is peerless in its grandeur.

Something particularly remarkable regarding the climatic phenomena is their regularity. The aforementioned storms arise at almost the same hour, usually in the evening, during spring and until midsummer, after which they become more rare. Summer concludes with a storm, and spring makes its entrance with a storm. Based on experience, one can predict almost to the day when autumn and spring will arrive. Once the frost has begun in the autumn, it continues until spring; and after the first [frost-free] spring night, one need not fear that the frost will return that season.

Due to the low rainfall, the country in its entirety would be—as most of it still is—a desolate desert, lacking almost all vegetation, were it not for the previously mentioned snow-capped mountains providing large areas with water. This water, which flows down to the plains in countless mountain streams, forms rivers around which larger and smaller oases—fertile and populous regions—have emerged.

These oases, with their fresh greenery, provide the most pleasant contrast to the desolate gloom of the desert and, by comparison, appear as veritable paradises. Often the boundary between these oases and the surrounding desert is so sharp that only a single step is needed to move from the lushest greenery to the sterile desert. As far as the water reaches, life and vegetation prevail. Several Nordic plants thrive excellently. To an even greater degree, this is the case with southern plants and fruit trees such as peaches, apricots, grapes and melons, pomegranates, figs, quinces, cotton, etc., all of which occur extensively and some of which are of the highest quality.

As a general assessment of the climate, one must say that it is good, even if some Europeans cannot quite endure it.