16/11/2009

Vacuum of Non-Existence - 1


February in Istanbul can be strikingly cold. Temperatures rarely hit below zero, dominant northern winds and humidity swept from seas surrounding the city however make it nothing but painful to be outside especially at night time. It is such nights where you would rather stay at home to make some tea and appreciate the warmth of your home, perhaps watch TV, read a book or look through your window at deserted, wet streets, listening to sounds of a car or a rushing pedestrian rarely passing by.


It was a such cold night in 1978, when Ejder, a bald, chubby man at his mid 50's, was woken by a depressing feeling in his chest. He opened his eyes in the dark with an urge to put his point and middle fingers on his neck to feel his artery. The heart seemed to be beating fine. He checked with his hand on his wife sleeping by, seated himself in bed and listened to the cold silence of the sleeping apartment for a while. Then with a naughty hope that his restlessness might soothe if he grabbed a late night snack from the kitchen, he slowly stood up.


Trying to be as silent as possible, with clumsy steps he found his way to the hallway of the apartment which he found being bleakly illuminated by the reddish, heavy light that was oozing out of her eldest daughter's room. “Poor Mine” he thought to himself smiling and knocked on the door and opened it to find his daughter afoot trying to convince her newly born baby to sleep.


The young mother, Mine, was only 22 and it had been less than 6 months since she came back with a surprise baby in her womb along with a surprise fiancee holding her hand from Ankara where she actually was supposed to be studying engineering and not making babies.


Ejder remembered it very clearly the day they showed up in his apartment. He at first was shocked but then quite quickly he grew to like the imposed groom, a charming young man coming from a little, poor village in Thrace who was smart enough to make his way to the primary engineering school in the country despite his economical disadvantages. But why he liked his new son in law was mostly because he could convince himself he wasn’t class conscious, one of the many features in his character that he had developed as a passive aggressive reaction to his own father. He didn’t resist his father much openly when he had the chance but chose to be the opposite person instead to disappoint him. This was the way he was dealing with his dominant, highly individual, selfish, eccentric father.


The young lovers got married in a Blitz fashion before the belly became too visible and only one month after their surprising appearance, his daughter had to send her husband back to Ankara to finish his school.


Ejder walked in to caress Mine's tired head. He wanted to provide but also find some comfort. She however in all of her frustration, tiredness and loneliness in the absence of her husband wasn’t in a state to cope with such warmth. All she could think about was to put her son to sleep. She asked his father to leave her alone in an almost impudent, plaintive manner without even looking at him. Something she was going to regret for the rest of her life.


In slight disappointment, Ejder left her room and moved on through the dark hallway to kitchen. He opened the fridge door and stood in front of it for a while scratching his big belly in a sweet state of indecision. Then he took butter and jam out to prepare a slice of bread for himself. He quickly smeared the butter on the bread, spread the jam on it and took an impatient bite right there in the kitchen with a childish joy. There he felt it. The restlessness in his chest started to take shape of a sharp pain and grow to the point it felt suddenly as if something was trying to rip his ribcage open from inside.


Feeling utterly helpless, with the great pain, he tried to grab his heart, knelt down onto the kitchen floor first, then he laid down on his side. His eyes got fixed at the dust pile under the fridge he could see now. He made a last effort to scream her daughter’s name which was followed by another big blow coming out of his chest.
           
The panic air initiated by Mine invaded quickly the night in the house. All of his three daughters and his wife rushed into the kitchen waking up each other. All the screams, cries, efforts couldn't help and touch him anymore. Nevertheless, it was better not to be alone. He realized what was happening. A great fear coupled with a sadness captured his existence. “It is such an inappropriate time” he thought before giving in to pain that was pulling him away from his body.


 It all ended quickly. When the three young women and their mother realized they lost the father of the house, the loud panic melted into a silent grief that could only be caused by a deep shock. They just stayed in the kitchen, looking at his body with wet eyes. It felt like they were part of an imaginative death cult ritual for a while.


The baby crying from the back of the house brought them back to life. Sisters looked at each other with confused eyes. Mine left the kitchen to check on her son leaving her sisters, mother and death behind in the cold kitchen.









Invitation for Ejder Gulen Akisan's remembrance service to be conducted in Tesvikiye Mosque on March 18th. 1978, 40th. day after this death.

07/11/2009

Utanıyoruz! *

Yes - today I'm ashamed to be a Turkish citizen. I'm ashamed to carry the citizenship of a country which sees no problem in hosting an official war criminal - El Beshir, Sudan's president, primary responsible authority for Darfur crimes. And this isn't the first time we did it. It is already the third time in two years of time. But this is the first time after he was officially declared as a war criminal by International Criminal Court in The Hague.




* WE ARE ASHAMED! 

Update on November 8th: What a relief! He's not coming.