by Kulin, Ayse
“No. I’ll go with Kemal Bey. He’s been entrusted to my care.”
“Mehpare nursed me for so long she now thinks she’s my mother,” Kemal laughed.
“She’s far too young and beautiful to be anyone’s mother,” said Azra. Mehpare blushed. She would have given anything to escape this disdainful woman. She gulped down the hot coffee, scalding her throat, and impatiently waited for Kemal and Azra to finish their conversation.
Soon afterwards, Hakkı Efendi came in to tell them the streets were no longer dangerous, and they rose to their feet.
“You’d best be careful, anyway,” Azra advised.
“How will we ever repay your kindness,” Kemal said to Azra as they made their farewells.
“You may have to hide me one day,” she replied. “Then we’ll be even.”
As Kemal and Mehpare walked towards the garden gate, Mehpare couldn’t help thinking that the blue-eyed woman was a dangerous type who would only bring misfortune to Kemal.
– 7 –
The March 16th Disaster
At the bottom of the hill sloping down from the Reşat Bey mansion, the shadowy forms of two tall women were silhouetted against an indigo sea as they walked up the street, side by side and in silence. They would have conveyed an impression of nervous stealth had anyone been observing them. But the street was empty and the neighborhood, which throughout the day had been alive with gunshots and screams and curses, was wrapped in an eerie calm. The women stopped in front of a large house and looked to the left and to the right. Mehpare inserted her finger into a hole in the gate, deftly located the latch cord and pulled it. There was a click. Pushing open the iron gate, they entered the garden, immediately shutting the gate behind them. Kemal slid the iron bolt into place, leaned against the gate and heaved a sigh of relief. Then he sank to the ground, back still propped against the gate, too exhausted to stand.
“Don’t sit on the ground, you’ll get cold,” Mehpare admonished him.
“We’ve probably both caught a chill today, all those hours waiting in that damp hole,” Kemal said.
“Come on sir, don’t give up now, not three steps from the house.” Kemal took Mehpare’s extended hand and struggled to his feet. Leaning on each other for support, they walked towards the house. Kemal started at the sight of yellow light filtering through the curtains of the selamlık.
“Why’s the light on in the selamlık at this hour? Shhh, Mehpare, let’s wait here. There might be trouble inside. We’d better be careful.”
Mehpare and Kemal managed to roll a large stone over to the bottom of the window. Kemal climbed on top of it, and standing on tiptoe, tried to get a look inside. He could hear a strange sound. A strangled bawling? A suppressed scream?
Good God! Ahmet Reşat stood inside the room pounding the wall, again and again, as he kicked and stamped his feet. He kept his left fist clamped to his mouth, but even through the closed window Kemal could hear his uncle’s muffled howls. At first, he assumed someone else was in the room as well. Though crazily tilted to one side, his uncle’s fez still rested on his head. Amazing! His uncle always removed his fez first thing; first his fez, then his ankle boots. Always, day after day, the same routine. But here he was, pounding and kicking like a madman. While completely alone in the room!
Kemal raced to the front door, Mehpare hard on his heels, and was just about to press the bell when the door was flung open by the grimfaced housekeeper. “Where have you been? We were worried sick. We thought something had happened to you,” she grumbled. As Mehpare ran to the floor above, the housekeeper planted herself directly in front of Kemal, who was trying to remove his boots.
“Sir, something terrible has happened to master. He’s been beating the walls for an hour now.”
“Where are the ladies? My grandmother, my aunt?”
“They’re upstairs. Everyone’s too scared to go near him. Leave me alone or I’ll make you regret it, he roared the moment he stepped through the door. They’re upstairs with the girls, weeping. Leman Hanım is especially torn up. Master’s been so ill-tempered that Behice Hanım fears for his heart. Shall we call the doctor?”
“Let me find out what it is first.” Any and all past misunderstandings erased from his mind, Kemal rushed into the room without knocking.
“Uncle,” he said, “what’s the meaning of all this? What happened?”
“What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Something dreadful! The English raided Parliament today! Can you imagine, Kemal . . . the English, without the slightest explanation or warning from their ambassador, allowed that man of theirs, the one they call Intelligence Officer Bennett, to raid Parliament and take Rauf Bey and Kara Vasıf Bey into custody! They handcuffed high-ranking government officials, subjected them to all manner of insulting behavior, stuffed them into trucks, and took them off. And as if raiding Parliament wasn’t bad enough, they dragged Cevat Pasha and Doctor Esat Pasha out of their homes, without even allowing them to get dressed, still in their pajamas, hands tied behind their backs like a couple of common thieves. And the way they treated Esat Pasha is abominable . . . I can barely get the words out of my mouth. They beat him!”
“What!”
“And in the early morning they raided the police stations and martyred any guards who resisted. A private soldier at the Şehzadebaşı Police Station was still asleep when they killed him. Not a single man was left alive at the Caucasus Division Headquarters. We now know the reason for the gunfire at dawn yesterday. It’s only because our soldiers withdrew to their barracks that the bloodshed wasn’t worse. The English seized all their weapons. A battleship was anchored next to the Galata Bridge, another one directly in front of the Palace, its guns trained on the Palace itself. The English surrounded their embassy and all their interests with machine guns. And as if that weren’t enough, they plastered signs all over the streets notifying the citizenry that the city was under English occupation and that any resistance would be severely punished.”
His battered hands clasped to the sides of his head, Reşat Bey began pacing the length of the room. He, too, seemed to have forgotten about the recent altercation with his nephew. While Kemal had been biding his time in the passageway, the city had been plunged into chaos! Which meant the sound of gunfire had been real—no nightmare, no trick of the mind, no surfacing of suppressed memories. He inwardly cursed at having been stuck in a hole while outside the world went mad. But it was no time for self-pity, his uncle was still distraught.
“Uncle . . . Uncle, please sit down. Try to calm down. No fear, we’ll find a way to get those weapons back.”
“I wish it was as simple as retrieving our weapons . . . They pressed a bayonet into the chest of the Minister of War and demanded he enforce their orders. It was only when the Minister informed them that under those conditions he would be unable to issue orders of any kind that they finally lowered their rifles. The Minister arrived in the Sublime Porte having been jeered at all the way by Greeks and Armenians. He kept his dignity, immediately prepared a strongly worded diplomatic communiqué, one worthy of an honorable people. But what’s the use? Istanbul has become a captive city. Our city has sunk to this! His Majesty has been forced to consult the English even on the subject of the Friday noon prayers. With arms forbidden to all, who would guard the Sultan’s procession to the mosque?”
“If a visit to the mosque requires permission from the English, it is better he not go.”
“But he very much wishes to go. It’s my religious duty, he says.” Ahmet Reşat raised his cupped hands in appeal: “Allah, what have we done to deserve this?”
“I understand your distress, but there’s nothing to be done.”
Kemal opened the door and asked the housekeeper—whose ear had been pressed against its wood, and who very nearly tumbled into the room in consequence—to bring a glass of water. She had barely taken two steps when the door was flung open a second time. “Bring some rakı too, and two glasses.”
Ahmet Reşat sank d
own onto one of the divans and ruefully rubbed his aching hands together.
“A moment ago, you said there’s nothing to be done, Kemal. That’s what I find most maddening of all. Rumors are flying: the Greeks and Armenians are going to cut down the Muslims, they’re going to put icons back into Haghia Sophia, Christian priests have seized Muslim orphanages, and on and on. These stories are nothing but outright fabrications and ridiculous exaggerations but they’re still sufficient cause for a popular rebellion. And yet the people of Istanbul haven’t been agitated into violence. And why? Because the government has always been a soothing influence.”
“Would that the fury of the people had been unleashed and riots had broken out. That would give the invaders something to think about.”
“It would be wrong. Retribution would be terrible. We’ve endured so much, Kemal! We’ve resigned ourselves to degradation. We’ve turned a blind eye to so much. We’ve avoided bloodshed at all costs. But they seize the homes and mansions only of Muslims, the only ones they accuse of wrongdoing. Believe me when I say that the only thing preventing these heathens from being lynched by the mobs is the Ottoman municipal police force, the only force able to maintain law and order. You’d have expected some slight show of gratitude on the part of the invaders.”
“Uncle! We’re talking about the English here.”
Ahmet Reşat slammed his fist onto the end table. A glass ashtray fell to the floor and shattered.
“Uncle, difficult times always lead to better days. They’ve gone so far that even you have rebelled. You, who always said we had no choice but to fall back upon the English.”
Ahmet Reşat closed his eyes tightly in response, as though willing away the unbearable. But to no avail. Images of the raid on Parliament and a sense of utter helplessness were with him still.
“What was the Sultan’s reaction?” Kemal asked.
“Those who gave him the news had difficulty getting so much as a word out of him.”
“Well what did he say?”
“He screwed his eyes shut and sat there, immobile and impassive, and when he opened them again he stared into the distance. He always does that when he’s distraught . . .”
“Uncle, you mean that at a time when they’re rounding up and insulting statesmen whose sole crime is love of country, His Majesty does nothing but close his eyes?”
“What do you expect him to do, Kemal? Were he to defy them he himself might be debased and humiliated. How could the Sultan run the risk of such treatment?”
“If the Sultan is personally unprepared to take risks he should offer his full support to those willing to risk death for their country.”
“Do you think he doesn’t back them? Who do you think has appointed Grand Viziers who overlook the disobedience of pashas who refuse to turn over their weapons? Please, don’t criticize him without knowing the full truth.”
“Be sure of this, uncle, were the Sultan engaged in preparing a plan of salvation I would be the first to offer my life to him.”
“It’s only to be expected that your confinement to the house has prevented you from learning of certain developments. Why do you think the invaders pressured Ali Rıza Pasha into resigning? Because they were mad with fury over the Amasya Protocol our Minister of Marine co-signed with the Delegation of Representatives.”
Kemal looked at his uncle in astonishment.
“And what was in this memorandum of understanding, signed between the Ottoman government and the Turkish revolutionaries? The outlining of joint efforts to preserve national independence and unity. The rejection of any concessions to non-Muslims that would threaten Turkish sovereignty,” Ahmet Reşat continued.
“That’s true, but the Sultan . . .”
Ahmet Reşat cut off his nephew. “Do you really believe that the Sultan was unaware that the Ottoman government ratified the borders designated by the National Pact? Are you such a fool, my boy?”
“Well then why doesn’t the Ottoman government act jointly with the Delegation of Representatives right here in Istanbul? They should join forces, and end this once and for all.”
“After this deplorable turn of events His Majesty has, in fact, issued an imperial decree to establish communications with Anatolia. They could have reached an agreement earlier, but Mustafa Kemal Pasha has insisted that the Ottoman Parliament assemble in Ankara instead of in Istanbul.”
“That’s reasonable enough. Ankara isn’t under occupation.”
“Kemal, stop talking like a child. Istanbul is the seat of the Caliphate and has been the capital of the empire for centuries. Shifting parliament somewhere else would mean giving up on Istanbul.”
“Is that the only reason you can’t reach agreement with the Delegation of Representatives?
“Isn’t it enough?”
“No, it is not, uncle.”
“Stop it! The Sultan is Commander of the Believers and must remain in the seat of the Caliphate. Heaven forbid that the custody of the faith should fall into other hands. And he also has the wealth of the Ottoman Dynasty to consider. Let’s keep this to ourselves, but Sultan Vahdettin is concerned that the English might seize the treasury.”
“But Uncle, I’ve received information that the Sultan has signed a secret treaty with the English. They say the Sultan has agreed to be under an English mandate and has even pledged that he will employ his spiritual and temporal powers in service of English interests. The Sultan may be able to cling to his treasure, but he’s apparently willing to sacrifice our future.”
“The Sultan is buying time, Kemal. The Nationalist Movement will be able to continue their struggle for as long as he remains on the throne.”
“I hope what you’re say is true.”
“It is. I also want you to know that the Sultan is emphatically opposed to the dissolution of the Cabinet—” Reşat Bey was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said. Framed in the doorway was Behice carrying a tray containing a small decanter and rakı glasses.“Why have you inconvenienced yourself, Hanım? Is no one else in the house able to carry trays?”
“I was worried about you, Reşat Bey. Are you well? You alarmed us all. Have you quieted down?”
“I’m fine, just fine.”
“We were worried about Kemal Bey as well. What kept him out so late? What happened? Mehpare is upstairs; she told us everything, but Saraylıhanım is determined to see her grandson for herself. Does she have your permission to come?”
“Tell her to come,” Reşat Bey said.
Behice set the tray on the end table and left the room. She’d hoped to find her husband quarreling with his nephew, not sitting across from him, engaged in amiable conversation. After all the events of the terrible day, Reşat Bey must have decided to avoid unpleasantness at home, she speculated. “Everything’s perfectly serene downstairs,” was how she delivered the good news to Saraylıhanım.
“Oh! Splendid! In that case, I won’t disturb them. If they’ve reconciled, it’s best to leave them on their own for now. I’m going to bed, my girl, it’s been a trying day,” Saraylıhanım said as she slipped from the room.
“And I’m going to visit my girls,” responded Behice. “Leman was so upset at her father’s condition. She’ll need comforting.”
Kemal half filled two glasses from the decanter brought by Behice. Filling them the rest of the way with water from the pitcher, he handed his uncle a glass of the potent milky-white spirit. Ahmet Reşat drained his glass at once and handed it to Kemal to be refilled.
“Dear Uncle,” Kemal said as he refilled both glasses, “let’s toast the unification of the governments in Istanbul and Ankara and the liberation of our country from the invaders.”
“To the prosperity and health of the state!”
They were just preparing to clink glasses when the nighttime silence was shattered by a series of gunshots. Both men froze and listened attentively. Ahmet Reşat rushed over and raised the window. Faint screams and shouts became audible.
“What
is it now?”
“They’re still rounding people up.”
Ahmet Reşat peered outside. Hüsnü Efendi had come out of the shed in the back garden and was running towards the house.
“Hüsnü Efendi, where are the shots coming from?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Put something on and we’ll have a look.” Ahmet Reşat pulled down the window and strode out of the room. Behice and Saraylıhanım were bustling down the stairs.
“Something terrible is happening again,” Behice said. “Where are you going? It’s out of the question! For God’s sake, don’t go out! You might get hit in the head by a bullet. Reşat Bey, I’m begging you, stay here.”
Ahmet Reşat disentangled himself from his wife’s arms and began putting on his ankle boots. He stepped back into the selamlık to retrieve his fez, which had rolled onto the floor, placed it on his head, and walked to the front door.
“Saraylıhanım, tell him not to! God forbid something should happen to him. He’ll listen to you,” Behice cried.
“It’s best not to interfere in men’s affairs,” Saraylıhanım said.
“I’m entrusting the family to your care. Look after them,” were Ahmet Reşat’s parting words to Kemal. Then he joined Hüsnü Efendi, who was waiting at the garden gate. A moment later, the two men were out of sight.
After gulping down the last of his rakı in the selamlık, Kemal went up the second floor, where he attempted to distract his tearful grandmother and aunt by recounting in detail all that had happened to him that day. He persuaded them not to wait up for Ahmet Reşat, saw them off to bed, and headed for his own room. He wanted to wait for his uncle’s return, but his eyes were closing of their own accord and he could barely stand. When he pushed open the door to his room, he was astonished to find Mehpare standing in front of the window in a thin nightgown.
“Is anything wrong, Mehpare? I thought you’d gone to bed long ago.”
“I didn’t go to bed. I waited for you,” she said. “I thought you might want something.”