Hagia Sophia
It was Friday; the coffee house in front of the Hagias
Sophia was busy. Jamil went to the tents in the back street. When the boy was
talking about the Caretaker of Saint Sophia, The Church of Holy Wisdom, he
remembered Lieutenant Rajab. He was the Commander of the unit who was
responsible for protecting Saint Sophia in case the Greeks caused a commotion.
He heard that from Maksood. When he approached the tent, Jamil smiled. ‘How convenient!’ Rajab was the kind of guy who pretended to be
pious when he was serving in the fronts. He was pretending to be praying and
fasting all the time so they wouldn’t give him difficult jobs. It didn’t take
the others to realise in fact he was
just being lazy. Rajab didn’t even bother to turn the pages when he was reading
the Koran.
Rajab’s unit was composed of irregulars as usual. A couple
of soldiers were boiling something on top of a makeshift stove by the wall with
an iron fence, next to the Street.
A tall chubby sergeant placed a mirror on the minaret wall
and began shaving. When Jamil said, “Hello”, he pretended not to hear.
“Sergeant! Where is the Lieutenant?”
“Which one?”
“How many Lieutenants are there?”
“One...but...”
“I am looking for Rajab.”
The Sergeant turned to look at Jamil, and then talked as if
he didn’t like what he saw. “Isn’t he at the tent?”
“Which tent?”
“The circle one.”
“I don’t know.”
“You should know.” He continued shaving. “First, look for
him, then ask.”
Jamil shook his head and walked away.
The door of the tent was open. The Lieutenant was singing
while he was sewing something. He didn’t have his jacket on and he was
barefoot. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. He pricked
himself with the needle and cursed.
He looked at Jamil and didn’t recognize him. He made a
gesture, as if to ask what he wanted. Jamil winked at him the same way he had
before.
“Who are you?”
“Rajab! Have you learned a new trade as a tailor? Military
personnel don’t open up shop!”
“Oh! Captain Jamil! I was thinking about you not too long
ago. I heard a loud voice and thought about the Second Gaza campaign. I was wondering
where you had been.” He jumped to his feet and showed him a place to sit. He
took his jacket off the stool and threw it on the bed. “Please take a seat.” He
called to someone. “Ali, come here.”
Ali had dark skin and he was very slim. He stood in attention
but the way he saluted them was not really military like. “Yes, Lieutenant!
What can I do for you?” He was smiling.
“Where have you been? Then he asked Jamil. “Would you like
tea or coffee, Captain?”
“Bring us two cups of tea, make the tea yourself, wash the
cups well, it has to be very good!”
Jamil went in the tent. He saw the Quran case hanging on the
wall. He smiled. “Captain Maksood told me that, you were stationed here. I was
in the neighborhood I wanted to see you.”
“I like Maksood. I haven’t seen him for a while. How is he?
He likes joking. I like him but he doesn’t like me. I told him he was Arab and
I was Zaybak, however he doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I wanted him to send two hookers to this neighbourhood. He
refused.”
Jamil sat. Rajab looked like he was going to continue
sewing, then he put it away. “Continue what you were doing. You haven’t got
married? Couldn’t you find a girl that will sew for you?”
“No. After this war the women changed, Captain. They are not
sitting in their living rooms and sewing anymore.”
“They are not?”
“They want to work themselves. ThThe other day I asked one girl to sew for me, she refused.
She said she was looking for a tailor to sew her buttons as well! Are you married?”
“No.”
“Good! One outcome of all those Balkan Wars and Mobilization
was that we got away with not marrying. Look at the others who have been
married.”
Then Ali came with two cups of tea. Rajab looked through the
clear glass and liked the color of the tea. He said, “Good job Ali. If we were not
defeated, I would promote you to Corporal, right this minute. Well done. Go
find the Sergeant. I need to see him.” He turned to Jamil. He said, “You see,
there is no more order in the Ottoman Army. We are sitting on Gunpowder
barrels. If there is some commotion in the street; I get nervous. I am afraid
the Greeks might attempt to invade Hagia Sophia.”
“Do you think they might dare to ambush?”
“You never know. I am responsible for protecting Hagia
Sophia. What if they come and take it from us? I would commit suicide in shame.
What are we protecting here? We are not guarding those stone walls. It is a
holy place like Prophet’s grave!”
The sergeant came in. He said, “Sergeant Riza, I called you
for something...I forgot....Oh! Yes! What is the menu today? We have a guest.
Have you served in the Palestinian Front?
“No, Lieutenant, I haven’t.”
“Then you wouldn’t know Captain Jamil. If you don’t know
Captain Jamil it means you haven’t seen a really good Gunner. Now, he is a
guest here. Go and prepare something for us.”
“I won’t stay for dinner.”
“No. We will have dinner together. We have plans for
tonight. Two beautiful women will come to visit us. They are so beautiful that
even Sultan Hamid can’t dream of girls this beautiful.” He said to the
Sergeant, “Oh! I remembered, it is Friday, we have meat and rice pilaf on the
menu and halva for dessert as well. I will pay for the salad separately, and
buy some yogurt as well.”
He heard the prayer call and said, “Oh! It is time. I have
to go to Friday prayers now. Go, do as I said.”
When the Sergeant left, Rajab swore at him. Why, Jamil
didn’t know. After lunch Jamil saw the French Marine soldiers who came to the
Hagia Sophia Mosque to see Friday prayers. They had red pom-poms on their
berets. He followed them.
Upon entering the yard the French Soldiers became respectful
and stopped joking around. The Caretaker, Abdi, opened the small iron gate for
them while saying bismillah and let
them go climb up the ramp to the balcony. Rajab was openly calling Abdi a
pedophile. He was a short fat guy.
Abdi said he was impressed by foreign soldiers’ respect for
our religion, “Those Christians who came to observe the prayers are “People of the Book” they have great
respect for our religion as well. I am impressed with their respect and good
upbringing. This is a holy area. Whoever enters the gates of Saint Sophia is
impressed by the power of the religion.”
Jamil was disgusted by Abdi because he was remembering what
Tayyar told him. Abdi had small eyes and his left arm was crippled below the
elbow.
The French men looked impressed by the glamour of Hagia
Sophia when they climbed up the ramp and entered the balcony. They were right
under the Dome and looking down. They have stopped as if they suddenly came to
a cliff. Jamil was not accustomed to
hearing a foreign language under this dome and distanced himself from the
French.
The mosque was becoming full with people. They had all kinds
of headdresses, white turban, red Fez, grey hats. They all mixed together.
Jamil and the others were watching them from the balcony. The noise was
climbing up the walls and reaching the dome. “On the Night of Honours there are
7000 lights here. It is like Heaven. Your heart fills with joy. You are so
awestruck; you get your prayers wrong. The Indian Muslims also frequent here,
especially on rainy days. It is like the whole army that comes here consists of
Indian soldiers. I tested them. To my surprise I found out they knew the Koran
by memory. I asked them to recite one passage. They started to recite by memory
right away. I stopped them and asked another part. Same thing happened! I was
impressed!”
When the muezzin started the prayer call, the French
soldiers listened attentively.
Jamil had the same fatigue sweeping over him again. He
wanted to sleep. If he sat or even leaned against the wall, he might have dozed
off immediately. He bit his lip and tried to keep his eyes open. As the noise
climbed up the walls and reached the dome it became hard to bear. There was a
sea of people below. They all moved together as they prayed. Jamil closed his
eyes and realized that he had to get out of there. He brushed against the wall
and passed the French soldiers. He quickly went down to the yard. He saw Ali
and asked him where Rajab was. The gypsy found this question weird. “Where else
would he be? He is attending to Friday prayers at the mosque, of course.”
Jamil went into the tent. He lay down on the bed without
changing his clothes.
When he woke up, it was dark. He had a bad taste in his
mouth. He lit a cigarette. It was time for evening prayers and he listened to
Muezzin’s call. He didn’t like Arabic. To hear that language made him even more
depressed. He wondered where he could go next. “Even if I stayed at someone’s house for a couple of days, what would I
do after?” He heard that at Sansaryan Police Station, they were torturing
the Unionist. Patriot told him that they were checking the hotels daily so
checking into a hotel was out of question. He thought about sending Rajab to
talk to Maksood but didn’t think that he could trust him. “If I told him not to talk to the Lieutenant at Maksood’s Office, Rajab
might get scared. If he gets scared then he will mess up. I will better stay
here tonight. I will think about what to do tomorrow!” He went outside and
washed his face at the Mosque Fountain. He had to shave, and he wanted to trim
his moustache. He decided to go to the Barber’s. He was at the gate when he
bumped into Rajab. “Jamil, did you
hear the bad news?”
by Kemal Tahir
Translated by Elif Mat
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