Committee of Union and Progress

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