Istanbul
It was an unlucky wedding night but when he thought about it
now he realized that his luck was turning. If they hadn’t the wedding tonight
he would have been in the same truck with the others now. He thought about
Maksood. ‘I wish I could have seen Arab’s face tonight, he must be very angry’.
He felt calmer when he thought of Arab; his confusion was
easing. He was taking wider steps. He walked to Uskudar in two hours with a
steady pace. He ran into two Patrol Officers while walking but they didn’t ask
him anything. What would he tell them if they asked? They might have taken him
to the Police Station. He didn’t want to think about this and he was successful
at avoiding those thoughts.
During this two hour period he thought about his whole life;
he thought about childhood memories, things that he never thought about before.
All these images seemed like someone else’s life and passed before his eyes
like a motion picture.
When he couldn’t find any open coffee houses at Uskudar, he
went to the waiting area. He saw some people sleeping on the benches.
He had two cups of saleb.
Drinking something warm made him feel better. He was tired and sleepy. The
first boat of the morning was two hours later. He wasn’t able to think about
neither Neriman nor his friends that got caught .He was thinking of other
memories and other thoughts. He had mixed feelings. He watched the Albanian
Saleb Seller. He looked like he didn’t have any worries. Jamil envied him.
It was getting colder; he went to the waiting area and took
a seat. He pressed his back to the hard wooden seat and tried not to sleep.
Just as he was about to doze off a Police officer looked through the door. He
was red-eyed from lack of sleep. He looked at the men who were sleeping on the
benches and shook his head. Then he went away. He didn’t look like he was
looking for anyone, yet Jamil got nervous anyway. Jamil stood and pretended to
walk around and check if someone was outside. He couldn’t see the Police
Officer and he was worried. He thought, ‘He
will go to the Police Station now and get some back up. They will come to get
me. They will say, freeze’... He didn’t want to think anymore and started
to walk in the Chengelkoy direction. He was walking faster now.
He studied at Kuleli Military High School, for that reason
he knew the Anatolian side of the Bosporus very well. He remembered his
girlfriend Nadire. He got caught after spending the night with her. Nadire’s
father was Nazif Pasha, a member of the Advisory Council and they were living
at Kuzguncuk. They had been seeing each other for three years. Nadire was a
fearless woman. She saw Jamil while he was swimming and liked him right away.
When they met she was a married woman, married for a year. Her husband was
handsome and rich; she married him because she liked him. Yet she was still
making love to Jamil when her husband was on call at the Palace. She was taking
a huge risk. They were meeting at the wooded areas and in the boat houses of
the old mansions. He learned all these secret places from her. They broke up
before Jamil went to Macedonia. Nadire changed after she had her second baby,
she aged before her time. Then he heard that she turned to religion and started
to frequent the tekkes. He hadn’t seen her since.
When he approached the neighbourhoods where he had spent his
teenage years, he felt distanced from himself, he felt shattered. It was as if 889 Jamil Beshiktash was someone else
and he was telling him the stories of his youth, walking by his side.
He was descending down from an imaginary stairs to the years
past. It was a dead end. It was like living in time, backwards. He was going to
see Nadire in the wooded area in front of an old broken wall; she was standing
up and whispering Jamil’s name.
What did Halil Pasha do to prevent Patriot from firing? Did
he hold his wrist like he did before? Patriot was the happiest student in the
class. Always smiling and joking around. When did he begin carrying this burden
of living a double life? When did he start keeping terrible secrets even from
himself? When did Patriot become Patriot? He seemed to leave his body and watch
everything from above absentmindedly. When did he give up the fights and
drinking? Why did he start to hide his immense muscle power? He has a sharp
attitude when he uses the guns, how did he hide that side of himself when he
was not firing his gun, and appear relaxed all the time?
When Jamil got arrested, Patriot was the only one who cared.
Jamil couldn’t explain where he was at the night where the notices were being
distributed. Omer was able to send news to him at Taskisla, when the situation
was still serious for everyone. He was arrested because he couldn’t prove that
he was not involved in distributing the bulletins that night. Patriot went to
see the President of the Military Schools and explained to him that Jamil was
not involved in political matters; he was simply not talking because he was
thinking about the reputation of the lady he was seeing. Jamil got out of the
prison after spending three months and six weeks there and was not expelled
from the Military school because of Patriot’s efforts. The thought of expulsion
from the Military school made his skin crawl like it always did.
When he was passing under the bridges that connect the
Bosporus mansions to the woods on the hills over the road he heard his own loud
footsteps. He noticed that he was living in the past for that moment. It was a
proud moment like challenging death. He left behind his wife and his friends,
in front of him there was nothing. There were no friends, no enemies; there was
noone that he knew.
His old school didn’t even deserve to be valued as a memory
in this land that the army had disbanded.
On a terrible night like this, all his past connections had disappeared,
all the memories, all the feelings, and all the power necessary for struggle
was shattered. He didn’t have the courage to face his school and turned back.
He turned back as if he was hiding from someone.
He realized that talking to Maksood would be difficult when
the phone operator asked him to repeat the number of Hasan Pasha Police
Station. When the girl asked him to repeat the last number; he said, ‘3’. They
had appointed a Lieutenant who was member of the Nigehban Association, to
Maksood’s Station to keep an eye on him because of the fact that he was a known
Unionist. A vulgar voice answered the phone; “Hello...Hello...”
“I’d like to speak to Maksood, please”
“Who is this? Why do you need to talk to Maksood?”
“Is he available?”
“I am asking who you are! You must identify yourself to me
first. I am on duty here.”
Jamil put the phone down quietly. He was hoping
Maksood would arrange somewhere to sleep at the Station or send him to a hotel
that he knew to be secure. He left the Pharmacy. He went to Galata Wharf,
looked around, and started to stare at the sea. It was 9 o’clock in the morning.
It was May the fifteen, 1919, a sunny Thursday morning. He
didn’t have anywhere to go. He didn’t have anyone to ask for help. He didn’t
have any business to conduct. This loneliness felt like death. It was worse
than being arrested and sent to exile to Devil’s Island. He knitted his brows.
His fists were in his raincoat pockets, pushing. He began walking to the Galata
Bridge looking straight ahead.
Galata Bridge
From the Book The Reluctant Warrior
by Kemal Tahir
Translated by Elif Mat
by Kemal Tahir
Translated by Elif Mat
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