Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 304 Oil City
If we're talking about the fastest-growing cities, Baku is definitely on the list. Abundant oil resources and newly built industrial plants have attracted countless young people, and Baku's population has quickly grown from 9000 to 7. This once quiet Caspian Sea town has now become the center of the oil industry, with towering chimneys, roaring machines, and streets crowded with workers and businessmen from all over the world.

The most important industry in the area is oil refining. Crude oil extracted from wells is refined into kerosene or lubricating oil, which is then exported to all parts of the world. Baku's railway station sees trains loaded with petroleum products departing daily for Europe, India, and the Far East, bringing a steady stream of wealth to the city.

Musabykov works at an oil refinery in Baku. He gets up at 5 a.m. every day and walks half an hour to the refinery. His job is to operate the distillation towers, separating crude oil into different components. He works 10 to 12 hours a day and earns 350 riyals a year. This money is enough for him to bring his family to Baku, not to mention bonuses for good performance. His wife and four children moved from the countryside last month to a small apartment near the factory. Although the house is small, it's like paradise compared to the mud-brick houses in the countryside.

His greatest wish is for his children to receive an education and escape the fate of a factory worker. His eldest son is already in primary school and excels academically; his teacher says he has a chance to get into a technical school in Baku and become a skilled worker in a factory, which would be much better than his current situation.

"Musabelif, you're up so early. Aren't you going to let your wife and children rest a little longer? It's Sunday."

The landlord, Ort, looked weary and travel-worn as he looked at Musabelif, who had gotten up early, and asked him with some surprise.

Musabelif splashed his face with the cold water to clear his head, then smiled at the landlord and said, "I took on a job today, hoping to earn a little more. We really don't have enough money at home."

The landlord wasn't surprised by his reaction at all; he'd been through the same thing. However, his son was attending university in Tabriz, and during the recent winter break, his son came home spouting rhetoric about how the country needed more land and how, as a member of Iran, he should contribute.

So he planned to go to the river to fight the Russians, which infuriated his father. He quickly sent him to relatives in Tehran to calm him down and prepared to send him to Baghdad to see what the boy would say.

Musabelif dried his face with a rough towel; the icy water completely sobered him up. He looked out the window; it wasn't fully light yet, and there were only a few pedestrians on the street, mostly people like him rushing to find work early in the morning.

“I’ve heard about your son’s situation,” Musabelif said as he put on his worn-out work clothes. “It’s good that young people have passion, but war is no joke. You never know if you’ll receive a death notice.”

The landlord sighed and rubbed his red eyes. "Yes, I only have one son. What will I do if something happens to him? I have a distant relative in Baghdad who is in business. I plan to have him go and help out. It's better than him going to the front lines to die."

Musabelif nodded, a hint of envy in his heart. Although his eldest son had good grades, the family simply couldn't afford to send him to university in Tabriz, let alone Baghdad. He could only hope that his son could get into a technical school and become a skilled worker in a factory, which would at least be better than what he was doing now.

He stepped out of his house; the streets were already bustling. Vendors pushed their carts, hawking breakfasts, workers walked in small groups toward the factories, and occasionally a few businessmen in suits hurried by. The air was thick with the smell of kerosene and sulfur—a distinctive odor of Baku. In the distance, the chimneys of the oil refinery were already puffing smoke, and the roar of the machines could be faintly heard. He passed a bakery, where the owner was placing freshly baked bread on the shelves. The aroma made his mouth water, but he checked the few coins he had in his pocket and resisted the urge to buy. He knew this money had to be saved for textbooks for his children.

Musabelif arrived at the day labor market on the outskirts of the city, where a large crowd had already gathered. Foremen stood on high ground, shouting out the types of work they needed and the wages. The workers huddled together, like a herd of livestock waiting to be selected.

He squeezed through the crowd, hoping to find a better-paying job. He was lucky today; a foreman recognized his experience and hired him to unload goods at the train station, paying more than usual. He breathed a sigh of relief; at least today's income would ease his wife's worries.

Musabelif's wife, Fatima, stayed home to care for their youngest daughter, but her thoughts were constantly on her husband. She knew how much he had sacrificed for the family, but she worried about his health. Sitting by the bed, gently patting her daughter's back, she planned to have her eldest son go to the market to buy some cheap vegetables and bread when he came home from school. Their savings were running low; they had to be careful with their money.

Baku's population growth has also driven up the cost of living. Although she earns 350 riyals a year, and also takes on some laundry work, bringing her total to about 370 riyals a year, rent and food take up most of it. There are also expenses for four children and supporting her elderly parents in the countryside. In the end, having 10 riyals in savings is already quite an achievement.

However, he is still very satisfied with his current life. He and his husband only need to work to support their family of six and supplement their income by helping their elderly parents who still work on the farm. They can also save some money so they can buy a house in the city and have their own place in the future.

She looked out the window at the sky and silently prayed that her husband would return safely. She knew that her husband's work was dangerous every day, but she never dared to say it out loud, for fear of adding to his burden.

The landlord was also planning for the future. Once his son went to Baghdad, he would sell the house and move to the countryside. The cost of living in Baku was rising, and he could barely afford it anymore. He looked out at the bustling streets, a sense of melancholy washing over him. This city had given him so much, but it had also taken away his most important thing—his son's future.

He sighed, picked up the pipe on the table, lit it, and took a deep drag. In the swirling smoke, he seemed to see his son as a child, when Baku didn't have so many chimneys and the sky was blue.

Baku's mornings are filled with both hope and struggle. In this oil city, everyone's fate is swept up by the tides of the times, and they are simply planning for their own and their families' future.

(End of this chapter)