Jamil remembers how he first became a member of Committee of Union and Progress back in 1906
Ittihad ve Terakki Partisi uyeligi
Jamil became a member
of the Committee of Union and Progress when Patriot urged him. It was 1906. They
were in Monastir Macedonia; and they
were walking towards their destination on a rainy night. When they reached the
corner; Omer the Patriot apologized and said he needed to blindfold him.
Holding his arm he guided Jamil through the muddy streets. Upon arriving at
their destination; he rang the door bell three times. Someone on the other side
of the door said first, “Muin” then “Hilal” three times each. Patriot
answered, by saying ‘Hilal’ three
times “Muin” only once. Then he
removed Jamil’s blindfold and Jamil saw three people in red gowns and black
masks. There was a table and on it there was a book and a pistol. He heard a
voice that he recognized. It was Eyub Sabri’s voice saying, “Have you decided
to join the Commitee? Have you given this a lot of thought? Are you sure?”
Jamil said, “Yes”.
“Do you understand that if you do not follow the rules you
will be executed?”
“Yes Sir, I understand the rules.”
He had to take an oath to be a member of the committee for
life, thus making him member number: 9-2
If things turned out for the worse, he could have ended up
in exile in a place like Fezzan, Taif or Yemen for life. At the time men who
would take this road, would forget about getting married to Royal Princesses, being
military envoy to important Capitals, or getting promoted to higher ranks. They
would have to give up a bright future. But if they were successful; it would
mean Freedom for the country. So what
would this Freedom look like? He imagined it as being able to do anything he
wanted. But how would this be compatible with the current strict military
rules?
Jamil reminded himself that they didn't have to debate such
details, because within just two years, by sending a couple of telegrams they
achieved their goal. They brought Freedom to the country.
Jamil was still gazing at the picture on the wall. Nazmi
died defending Edirne which was under siege. He didn’t have time to learn that
their party was ruling the country now. They were controlling the vast Empire from
Danube to Basra; from Sinop to Libya. Nazmi died when he was twenty six. He
died hungry, sick and desperate.
In the picture, Nazmi was also smiling sadly as if he heard
his son calling him “Unionist Infidel.”
Neriman came upstairs looking very pale. “He was a doctor.
His name was Rashid… A governor. He escaped from jail recently.” She approached Jamil and whispered. “Was he
the friend you were expecting?”
“No, he wasn't.”
“Did you know Governor Rashid personally?
“No, I didn't know him.”
“Then why did you ask me to open the door for him? You asked
about whether it was possible to enter the neighbor’s yard”. She was obviously shaken;
the fear rising up from her throat to her lips. Her lips started to pucker. The
stern look in her eyes was turning into fear. “If he entered our house and was seen
by the police, they would have raided the house. What would you have done?
Would you have fought with them?”
Jamil leaned forward to look directly in her eyes; Neriman
knelt down on the floor in desperation, with her hand on her mouth. “You were ready
to fight Jamil; you were going to die as well.”
“What are you talking about?” Jamil smiled weakly. “That’s
all nonsense. Nothing like that was going to happen.”He reached out to touch
her shoulder and then stopped. He said, “Why are you crying? Why are you getting
worked up?”
“Jamil, I am not a child.” She raised her head, “I can understand.
They said they had been after Dr. Rashid
for a couple of days now. They were determined to find him dead or alive. Had
they not found him, they were going to arrest the officers who were suspected
to have helped him and hung them instead.” There were tears in her eyes. “Why don’t you
think about us? We have waited for you to return for so many years.”
“You have waited and I have come.” He touched her cheek, “Please,
don’t cry over nothing. It is nothing to worry about. Hush now.”
“You came back, but you aren't really here. You are always
anxious. Always distracted by sounds. Always on the alert. If someone called
you from the street in the middle of the night; you would go in a second, grabbing
your gun on the way out.”
“Would I?”Jamil was asking the question to himself. He was
thinking. “You are wrong. I am so tired I don’t feel like moving; even the
German cranes can’t lift me now from my spot.”
“Well, I know exactly what is going on, I understood very
well indeed. Don’t do that. It is enough already. Enough fighting. You don’t
need your salary. Thank God, we have enough income.” She was brushing her cheek
against his hand and begging him to stop. “Think about us.” She paused for a
while. “The Military Officer who came yesterday…Did he ask you to hide that man?
Did you accept? You did. I know you did.”
“Come on, Neriman, of course not. Please believe me, and
don’t think like that.”
“You were waiting for him.” She was looking at the gun. “You
were going to fight. Your face changed suddenly. You are so used to war. Can’t
you just stop? How long will it last? The other day I was thinking, seventeen
years ago you were sent to jail. Then you went to Macedonia, then Libya, and then
the Balkan wars started. Then four years in the Great War. In those four years
did you even think about us for a minute?”
“Please you are being unfair. Look at me.” He held her face
in both hands and leaned over to kiss her. “I don’t have anyone else in this life,
only you. I told you so many times. I was thinking of you always...even during
the hardest times. When I was thinking of you I was scared of dying. You don’t know how I missed you.”
“You missed me but you didn't come back to me when the war ended.
Why didn't you come right away? So many months have passed since the war ended.”
“I have already explained that to you.”
“It wasn't your responsibility to transport the guns to a
hidden location.”
“It was on my way. Before coming home I thought I could move
the guns.”
Neriman didn't want him to kiss her so she pretended to have
heard something and turned towards the door. “I need to go to kitchen to check
the oven.”
“Stay a little longer. I think there is some brandy in the cupboard,
will you give me some?”
Neriman stopped at the door, “I've asked you to not to drink
this early in the day.” She looked wistfully at him. Then her expression turned
to forgiveness and she smiled. Her smile was like those of young mothers who
are looking at their naughty children. She was shaking her head as she was
going to the cupboard to get the brandy. She had a tight dress on and Jamil was
admiring her narrow waist and curvy hips.
“Where have you put the bottle? I can’t see it.” Neriman’s voice
was flirtatious. She was trying to seduce him.
Jamil wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, approached her
gently from behind and grabbed her large breasts with both hands.
“Let me go. What are
you thinking? It’s the middle of the day.”Neriman quickly straightened up and she
turned away trying to get herself free. Jamil leaned in to her red lips which
are half open; he inhaled her perfume. “Let me go.... Please...”
“I will tell you something, don’t just go yet” He was slowly
pushing her towards the bed, trying not to alarm her. “Come, don’t worry.”
“No, I don’t want this.” When the back of her knee hit the
bed, Neriman fell backwards on the bed. There was horror in her eyes. For a
moment she really resisted. “No, please not in this room.”
In this room Nazmi’s picture was on the wall. They always
made love here when it was dark. They were always shy, ashamed and embarrassed,
as if it was a great sin. They didn’t want Salime and Enver to hear
anything. This whole shyness was hurting
Jamil’s pride as a man, sneaking around like a thief. But now, he was pulling
her clothes off her and he was rough; he had run out of patience. In his haste
he didn't even realize that Neriman was ready to make love as well, like him,
without the shame. She was willing as much as he was. Jamil was thinking that
Neriman was refusing him. What should have been a gentle love making, he was
turning into a fight.
Neriman put her arms over her face. Jamil wanted to see
everything but he closed his eyes when he saw Neriman’s beautiful naked body.
The whole time they didn’t say anything to each other. Both were feeling guilty.
When it was over Neriman, her gaze downcast left the room quickly.
Jamil didn't know what to do. He stood stoically in the
middle of the room, listening to her footsteps going downstairs. He didn't feel
like drinking anymore but still, he went to the cupboard to find the bottle. Purposely
ignoring the picture on the wall, he walked over to the window.
Dr. Rashid, the powerful Governor of the Unionist Regime,
was still lying under those mats, like a child playing hide and seek. As if he
could feel the February cold outside, Jamil shuddered for him. Just before his
death Rashid understood what it is like to be followed, what it is like to be
cornered like an animal. Once others feared for their lives because of him; now
he tasted the same fear before his death.
Once again, Jamil was thinking about the great power of a
little bullet while he was pulling out the cork of the bottle with his teeth.
All of life’s labours, hopes, despairs, trust, insecurities, pride, shame, everything;
all of this comes to an end by a single tiny bullet.
Still looking at the body lying in the middle of the field
he raised the bottle. He was almost going to say “For your Honour” as they used
to do when war ended. They would stand in attendance and raise their first glass
in honour of their fallen comrades.
He didn't even know the man; he thought it was stupid to honour
the Bashi-bozouk. Instead, he went to sit down on the sofa. He started to drink
out of the bottle, until he felt numb.
The wind picked up. The view from the window was obscured by
the snow flying everywhere.
His stomach was feeling the warmth and the relaxing effects
of alcohol. It was spreading through his bloodstream and finally reaching his
heart.
He started to look for his cigarettes; he had that bitter
aftertaste of the brandy in his mouth. Later he went downstairs to the living
room...
From the book the Tired Warrior by Kemal Tahir
Translated by Elif Erkmen
