Chapter 4
I would like to start this chapter with;
Yesterday was the day to commemorate the Dardanelles Naval Battles, which ended with the victory of the Ottoman Empire on March 18, 1915, during World War I.
Mustafa Kemal Pasha was first appointed as the Commander of the 19th Division to the Battle of Çanakkale and led the battles in Arıburnu and Conk Bayırı; At the end of the attack he organized on Conk Bayırı, he was promoted to the rank of colonel.
After the opening of the Anafartalar Front, Mustafa Kemal Pasha, who was the Anafartalar Group Commander, won the 1st and 2nd Anafartalar victories and was known as the "Anafartalar Hero".
The hope and determination given to the Anatolian people by the Çanakkale Front also ignited the torch of the Turkish War of Independence, which is one of the main themes in this story.
Addressing the Anzac mothers once again in 1934, Atatürk uttered those words that were engraved in the minds of the whole world: "You are side by side with the Turkish soldiers. Mothers who sent their sons to war from distant lands! Soothe your tears. Your children are in our bosom.”
~
Mirrored Bazaar in Çanakkale,
Çanakkale was cold and unsavory with blood on the soil and the smell of salt and dead flesh on the freezing air.
Soldiers wrote letters to their mothers and their wives, this was just the beginning of their similarities with their enemies. They started the letter with ensuring their mothers that they were fine, lying through their yellowing chattering teeth.
Mom, I'm going against the enemy, oh my youth, alas!
And then, they would follow with how they were sure they would return home soon, another lie. The only thing they were sure about was that death was just around the corner. And that their next meal will leave them empty once again.
A tall cypress in Çanakkale
One year, it has been one year. One year since he had last taken a shower where he felt refreshed afterwards, one year since he went to bed with a satisfied stomach, and one year since he kissed his darling Nazar.
Some of us are engaged, some of us are married, oh my youth!
Death was now his closest friend and most determined enemy. He was following him wherever he went, a smile on its face that resembled a threat.
You’re next.
They put me under the soil before I died.
But he defied death, every single morning and for that left him smug. After all, such a feat could never be undone. “Remarkable man you are, Zalim.” He said, after every single battle as he tucked himself into his broken tiny bed with thin blankets.
And then he cried to sleep, of course.
He was just a human. Just.
Çanakkale is covered with smoke.
So he went to every battle with a crooked smile on his face, matching his chipped teeth. Chanted “Çanakkale is impassable!” while readying his gun. and returned to his filthy tent with a broken sense of happiness and continued his letter.
Mothers and fathers gave up hope, oh my youth, alas!
The thirteenth division marched into battle, oh my youth, alas!
“Dear mother, I’m as fine as always. Don’t you worry and tell Nazar to ready herself for my return.
Cannons were set in the hand of Çanakkale
Wow, our friends were shot there, oh my youth, alas!
I kiss the hands of my father and you, mom, and please greet my brothers.
Your son, Zalim."
My father was an interesting man. He never complained and he never cried. I never even saw him showing any ounce of emotion. Nor happiness nor sadness or anything in between.
Emotions were his enemy.
I sometimes wondered if he was a man, more of a God perhaps.
But don’t we all idealize the people we are most effected by? Waking up you look at the sun and feel as if it is your father’s face, judging your every move with that particular look of his that always crossed his blue eyes.
Going on a walk at night, you look up and are met with the moon’s light caressing your skin gently like your mother had. Showing you the world through her set of eyes you will soon obtain.
And no, they won’t care if you want that or not. It’s a gift, specifically made for you.
The moon is there and the sun is too, they will always be and you won’t need to look up to know them and to see them.
Apparently I took after my father on the emotions side. Lale had said one evening that I regarded emotions with an indifference in my eyes, I almost cried then.
After I gave her an empty look that I hoped conveyed none of my hurt, I had went outside; and gazed up at the moon, prayed to her that I would take at least a bit after her. I knew to accept my fate but this was just on another level of agony.
Was I truly like him?
That was a question I always left under my bed, in a box and locked it. Sometimes the box opened itself when I tried to fall asleep and presented its petty face to me but I always shoved it deep inside and promptly turned away.
I wondered who Tom took after, his mom or maybe his dad? Does he also shudder in fear whenever someone regards him familiar to his father? Or does he give a sad smile to them, thanking them for their usual compliment.
He seemed to be the type to write his own destiny. Tom probably never took after anyone and only himself. Him biting the inside of his cheek was his creation just as his cleverness.
He was the inventor of himself.
I’ve never been strong enough to do that. Design? Always. Invent? Never. The only area I had the power to be creative and courageous was my job. And what is your job other than only a little part of your ideals that constructed you, yourself, as a whole?
So whenever Lale looked into the mirror, I said to her how beautiful that she has made herself look. It was your creation Lale, yours and yours only. You never knew them, and perhaps that will leave you sad and me with a broken sense of happiness.
I made little comments about how Tom was a hardworking man, who designed himself in this brutal world with a tall standing and fierce eyes. Of course, never to his face. Only whenever I was braiding Lale’s curly obsidian hair for school and she asked me about the man.
No, a boy. Because that was what he was.
Sure, he didn’t eat chocolate cereal for breakfast and read about superheros like my little sister did every morning but his gaze was young. His expressions and his mimics remained stoic while his views and ideals were fresh.
But he was cold, frighteningly so.
He wasn’t a teenager, nor a little kid, not quite adult too. He was… somewhere none of us was accustomed to.
I only hoped it was a nice place, foolishly.
The town held fairs on Saturdays, with tomatoes and clothes and cleaning supplies; it held a variety of opportunities to gamble and gossip. And that was exactly where I went this morning approximately at 8 o’clock, looking for clothes that Tom could wear other than the ones that reeked of blood.
Even though I had washed it for countless times.
I had walked there, to gather my thoughts, and to understand the new addition to our humble home. Of course, understanding could only be achieved with connection but that was impossible as he didn’t regard me as an existing human being.
“Good morning Tom,”
Only a nod.
“I’m going to go out for a bit, would you like to come?”
Only a shake of his head.
“So what was your life like back in England?”
He sent the most blank stare ever and walked away.
I often felt the need to go in front of the mirror afterwards, to check my flesh, if I still existed.
I was only ever so kind, and not probing. I didn’t complain and never regarded him as an ignorable person. I only continued on my pursuits of being a good host.
I had reached the gate to the fair and the sound of “Tomatoes for a lira! Peppers for a lira! Eggplants for a lira!” reached my ears, awakening my consciousness that was left going on and on about a boy who probably never even thought of me.
While I was gathering a few black pants that I though he wouldn’t be opposed to (because I’m sure he doesn’t like anything and shows indifference towards everything) a hand touched my shoulder.
Praying to God it wouldn’t be another widow looking for ways to gossip about my new “husband” (Tom), I turned around.
Thank you God for it was only Melis who had such giddy smile on her face that rebelled the shiny sun outside the tents of the fair that went on and on.
“Nergis!” She exclaimed excitedly. I was sure if her hands weren’t carrying the heavy bags filled with vegetables and clothes she would hug me. “You returned early?”
Her face held a glow even more than usual and her belly was showing a bit from her dress that could only mean…
“Yes I did- You’re pregnant!”
Spluttering Melis stood still, her hazel eyes shocked and inarticulate for the first time, “How did you-?”
“Never you mind that, you’re pregnant!” I said, overjoyed. I knew how much Melis wanted a family, we had met in a cafe just a few streets away from my home about 5 years ago.
Our interests were similar as we both were engineers and had worked at the same company for a year until she married and became a housewife.
I had told her to not do that but who am I to judge? I wouldn’t know love if it slapped me in the face.
But her husband Kerim was also my close friend as we still worked together. He was on the mechanical side of the process while our office gave him the designs. We often met up for a coffee in the gardens and chatted on lunch breaks.
He was a good man, I was their matchmaker so I would know. I never wanted anything bad for Melis. She deserved someone who would treat her with respect and kindness, always.
“You’re totally coming to dinner tonight, right?” I grinned “This calls for a celebration.”
Melis chuckled, “Fine, fine.” and winked “Of course, only if we wouldn’t be disturbing your husband.”
Sighing while she laughed at my face with no shame, “He’s 17 for God’s sake.”
Sobering up a bit she replied with a little smirk on her face, “And I wasn’t even invited to the wedding…”
Giving her the most blankest stare ever I turned around to gather some more t-shirts for my “husband”.
“Oh Nergis, of course I know he is not your husband. You wouldn’t know love if he got down on his knees and declared his adoration for you.” Melis smiled, “But I’m only curious to who he is then, if not a lover?”
“Let’s not talk now, are you free for a lunch date?” I tried to ignore the crowded fair and the people of the town listening to our every word, I wasn’t going to relay his and mine shared trauma here.
Melis nodded and we decided to meet at Ede Cafe around the street Lale’s school was. Lale would wake up soon and I had to help her get ready for the day.
We separated and I paid for the heavy bags I carried on my hand and huffed and puffed as I started the walk to the villa that seemed so far away.
During the walk I had to stop to breathe several times, and continued like nothing happened but after about five minutes into the walk, a young boy of 12 offered to help me.
We both carried the bags, me now feeling quite like an old lady, and I learned that he made music in the streets. “Abla, abla, abla ne gerek var.” He chanted as I forcefully gave him money for his help.
“Komşu komşunun külüne muhtaçtır.” I said and then knocked on the door to the house. The boy’s thank you’s were still heard as Lale invited me into the house.
“Nergis!” She jumped up and down with a huge smile on her face. “Did you buy anything for me?”
Not being able to say no to her excited little face I gave her the bracelets I had bought for myself and she chanted her thank you’s as she ran to show it to Tom.
Who regarded her like a creature from another planet.
He only stared into the young girl’s face as she showed the blue bracelet that had nazar amulets on it.
“I’m sure he likes it very much.” I said to Lale, trying to save the clueless boy but was only met with a rise of his brow. As if he said in his mid “Woman, are you for real? This bracelet is disgusting.”
“Then, we must do one for him too!” Lale clapped her hands.
Tom opened his mouth, probably to protest, but I sent him a shady look. He better not break my little sister’s hope.
“What do you say, let’s braid your hair, hmm?” I said to the girl who was still going on and on about how it was going to be an even darker shade of blue to match his eyes.
The little girl let out a hooray! as she ran towards her room to gather the supplies. God, where does all of that energy comes from?
The teenager turned his gaze to my hands which still carried those heavy bags containing clothes for him and then turned away to walk towards his room, not offering any sort of help as he shut his bedroom’s door.
Oh fuck him.
I was now looking after a petulant teenager and a child on some energy drink, at the age of 23.
I knocked on his door and opened it when I was met with silence and put the bag containing his clothes down next to his bed that he now resided in.
He got up as he saw me and gave me an annoyed look.
“I hope you likes these, I tried to pick them as minimal as possible as I wasn’t sure if you would prefer color.”
He continued staring at me.
With his wavy obsidian hair and midnight blue eyes resembling the bioluminescence I saw every year on the sea. Sparkling and fascinating as mysterious.
I stared back at him.
The fuck? “So I’m putting these here, if you want to try them on.”
He still gave me an empty stare.
“You’re welcome?” I insisted.
This was getting annoying. “Look, I don’t know what I did to make you uncomfortable but I want us to at least be able to communicate with each other.”
“Whatever do you mean?” He uttered those 4 words, he can talk!
“I mean that you’ve been ignoring me for the remainder of the week and it’s making me feel awkward.”
“Why would I talk with you.” He rolled his eyes. HE ROLLED HIS EYES.
I repeat, HE ROLLED HIS EYES.
“Why wouldn’t you talk with me is the correct question in this situation.” I breathed in and out, trying to calm the blood in my veins pumping dangerously.
“It wasn’t a question in the first place, why would I talk with you.” He let out with a scowl.
“I repeat; why wouldn’t you. I only opened my house to you and fed you and bought you food and oh! I also saved your life if that’s valuable.” Feeling quite like a mother, I heaved. I’m sure my cheeks were blood red by now.
“You didn’t save my life, I did.” He gritted his teeth. “A filthy mu-woman like you has no place in my life.”
Oh my god.
Oh my fucking god.
I stood still, utterly shocked. What was someone supposed to say in such a situation? ‘I want to throw you out of the window so bad so that you can break your sharp jaw.’ didn’t seem very… appropriate in a place that held a little kid.
My mom was right, she had said to me one evening as she tucked me into my childhood bed: “People are selfish, my little flower, they will demand everything and even if you give them that; they would want more and more and then shame you for offering nothing.”
“If you were an angel, there are people who would be disturbed by the sound of your fluffy wings, my dear.” Her mother had said, ignoring the fact that she had done the same selflessness continuously, without a care in the world.
I wonder, was she addicted to the pain I experienced now?
I walked up to him until I could see the few freckles here and there on his face that resembled a marvelous statue of a selfish man that artists spent their life perfecting.
“Don’t you dare come to me begging for things you once had, for I will leave your hands empty and laugh at your face.” I hissed.
Not caring even a little about his expression or response, I turned away and hurried towards the door. I had reached the living room when Lale stopped me.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her hairbrush in her hand.
I nodded as I got out of the house towards the sea.
I hated the sea, I wasn’t even sure why I was living next to it. Perhaps for closure, or perhaps I had done this for others’ wants too.
But the sparkling sea and I had gotten closer as the years went by. Seventeen year old me who once sneered at the sea now went towards it for comfort in my twenties.
Why do I ever remain kind to those not in need? For their own disgust for themselves warmed their souls enough for them to stay content. Because if not, why wouldn’t they ever try to change?
Why do I constantly burn myself for them to be warm? Aren’t their fiery hatred enough for them?
The well was opening up as it always had, hard questions deep inside it. People gathered around it and they turned to me with their usual look: full of expectations.
“Do I care about you? Do you truly think that?” They asked.
But the well is within you. You have to be ready within yourself for whatever someone else will do to you - you have to push it away and dive into yourself and not ask what you're doing. You must sink, only then will you be reborn.
I breathed in the calm breeze that carried salt and the smell of hyacinths.
Yes, sink I must.
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*the first part of this chapter, in italics, is Çanakkale Türküsü. A folk song that people sing on every 18th of March.
*the last part about wells were inspired a bit from Volga- where the Dr is talking to the 16 year old.
*The boy of 12 was telling Nergis about how there was no need for her to give him money. And she replied with a famous proverb that means neighborly bonds must remain strong.
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Thank you to all who commented, I appreciate it a lot!!!