Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature)

by Kulin, Ayse

  “Uncle, you’ve had a drink or two on the way home, haven’t you?”

  “And so what if I have? Has sobriety ever done me any good? If I stay sober will I prevent the invasion of yet another one of our cities tomorrow? Go on, run and get me some rakı, sit down and have a drink with me, would you?”

  Helpless to console his uncle, Kemal circled the hammock. Hüsnü Efendi soon arrived in the garden bearing a large tray that he set on the table. Mehpare had lined little plates with tomatoes and sliced melon.

  “The tomatoes are from our garden, sir,” Hüsnü Efendi said.

  “Then you’d best guard them with your life, Hüsnü Efendi, because soon enough they’ll be all we have left,” Ahmet Reşat responded.

  “God save us!”

  “God’s not going to save us, efendi. God’s forsaken us. God’s been favoring his Christian subjects for quite some time now.”

  “Good Heavens, sir!”

  “They’ve got money; they’ve got power; they’ve got science. What happened to us; tell me, efendi, what happened? No, never mind, let’s say for the sake of argument that you don’t know either,” slurred Ahmet Reşat as he turned his attention to Kemal. “But what about you—a scholar, no expense spared for the best education; you, who claim to know more about everything than anyone: so tell me: why has God, in his infinite wisdom, deemed us worthy of this disgrace, this abomination? Why’s He doing this to us and not to them?” He reached out his glass. “Fill it. And a glass of water. You drew it from the well, right? If you didn’t, go get some. Might as well enjoy our well water while we can. Just so you know, its days are numbered too. And the garden, this garden, they’ll take it away soon . . . Soon, very soon!”

  Kemal and Hüsnü Efendi exchanged glances. This wasn’t the Ahmet Reşat they knew and loved. Hüsnü Efendi had never seen his master in such a state, even on the ill-omened night of March 16th. He tugged Kemal by the arm, pulling him a step or two away. “Are we really finished young Master? Is it true what Beyefendi says?” he asked with trembling lips.

  At a loss for words, Kemal reached for a proverb: “Patience, Hüsnü Efendi. We never know what may happen before sunrise. Only God knows what tomorrow may bring.” Then he downed a glass of rakı, neat, like his uncle. His throat burning, a pleasant warmth spreading through his belly, Kemal sat down on the grass, next to the hammock. His uncle had long since finished his rakı but hadn’t touched any of the food. His empty glass had been dropped to the ground; eyes closed, he lay suspended motionless in the hammock.

  “Uncle . . . Is there no hope?”

  “Kemal, Tevkif Pasha refused to sign the Treaty of Sevres in Paris. The Pasha detected the differences of opinion among the Allied Powers and hoped to exploit them to our advantage. He kept reviewing and rereading the treaty in an effort to buy time. But the invasion of Thrace has upset all our calculations.”

  “Uncle, I know all about that.”

  “There’s plenty you don’t know. The Council of Ministers reassembled today. We read each line of the dispatch they sent, poring over every word. It’s even worse than we thought: the provisions they’ve imposed, both moral and material, are each harsher than the last. Not only are they exacting heavy reparations for our declaration of war and the subsequent loss of human life, they’ve added punitive payments for damage to property and goods. That much we could live with, but as far as some of the other conditions . . .”

  Ahmet Reşat began coughing. As Kemal patiently waited for his uncle to finish, he retrieved and refilled his glass.

  “For example, the Allies have decided to end forever our sovereignty over other peoples. From now on, we’ll rule only Turkish subjects, and so, since we’re the minority population in Thrace and İzmir . . . Just think, Kemal . . .”

  Ahmet Reşat had taken another swallow of rakı and began coughing again. Kemal tried slapping the choking and spluttering man on the back.

  “I think that last one went down the wrong way.”

  “In a show of magnanimity, they’ve deigned to allow Istanbul to remain our capital. But as for the Bosphorus . . . those sons of donkeys . . . The words stick in my craw . . .” Ahmet Reşat stopped speaking. His face had gone beet-red. He paused, not speaking, not coughing, not even breathing.

  “Uncle! . . . Are you all right?” cried Kemal, as his uncle’s scarlet complexion paled to pink, acquiring a greenish tinge. He dipped a napkin into the pitcher of water and dabbed at the beads of sweat on Ahmet Reşat’s temples. “There’s still a ray of hope, uncle. We’re not finished.”

  “We’re finished, my boy.”

  “No, we’re not. The Ankara Government has announced to the world that it will never comply with the terms of the Sevres Treaty.”

  “We were in the middle of our discussions today when a telegraph arrived from Reşit Mümtaz Bey: Sign the treaty immediately, or the Allies will take Istanbul away from the Turks.”

  It was Kemal’s turn to hold his breath.

  Ahmet Reşat had spoken in such a low voice that Kemal wondered for a moment if he’d heard correctly.

  “It’s killed us, but we’ve signed the Treaty of Sevres.”

  Through an open window on the second floor came the sound of Mehpare softly singing as she accompanied herself on the ud:

  When I think of my fate, my sentence, I must tremble, Weep, though complaint will never cross my lips.

  – 10 –

  Confrontation

  Her husband having failed to put in a single appearance at the island during June and July, Behice left her daughters with Saraylıhanım and, without waiting for September, returned to the house—a visit, she was shortly to learn, as untimely as it was early. In all their married life, Reşat Bey had never been this foul-tempered. Every evening, as soon as he got home, he’d sit under the arbor in the back garden and sip his rakı without a word to anyone, not even Kemal. She racked her brain for the cause: was her husband seeing someone else? He’d spent the winter in strange salons playing bridge. Had he been smitten by some strange and beautiful woman? No, that was impossible—Reşat Bey was far too well-bred to embark on an amorous adventure.

  But men were men—and she was pregnant, her belly swollen, her breasts enormous, her cheeks puffy. Who knew? Saraylıhanım, though a troublesome woman, was the one person she could have unburdened herself to, and she was on the island. It’s true that Mehpare was at home, but she shrank from such familiarity. Desperate, she decided to appeal to Kemal.

  “There must be a reason Reşat Bey is so sad and subdued, Kemal, and I can’t help wondering if it’s an affair,” she began, getting straight to the point. “I’ve always been like an elder sister to you, and would expect you to inform me.”

  “How could you think such a thing?” was Kemal’s horrified response. “I hope and pray that my uncle never finds out you suspected him of something like that. He’d be terribly angry, and not a little offended.”

  “Well then what’s the matter with him? I haven’t seen a smile on his face since I returned from the island. If something’s upsetting him, why doesn’t he tell me? Aren’t I his wife?”

  “Listen to me carefully. What if my uncle were to say to you: ‘I’ve been forced to sign the Treaty of Sevres. I’ve signed it knowing full well that it means the dismemberment of my country, the undoing of everything I hold dear, the termination of my own position, the blackening of my future. Still, we signed it at the Sultan’s request—so that His Majesty wouldn’t have to sign it himself, so that a door would be left open. That’s why I don’t want to speak to anyone. I want to be left alone with my shame and my sorrow.’ Now, if he told you all that, what would you do?”

  Behice stared at Kemal. “Why would he terminate his own position?” she asked. “And anyway, if he was acting at His Majesty’s request, he wouldn’t be responsible for any of it. The Sultan knows best. If he was simply obeying order, why should he be so upset?”

  Kemal sighed through clenched teeth. “Forget everything I just t
old you, aunt,” he said, as calmly as he could. “What you need to know is this: he isn’t involved with a woman. Rest easy. His life is nothing but duty and heartbreak.”

  As Mehpare stepped into the garden with a basket of laundry on her arm she saw Kemal smoking a cigarette under the arbor. Hastily setting down the basket she bounded over to him.

  “Put that out!” she cried, as sternly as she could. “Don’t you remember what the doctor said? No more than three cigarettes a day, and only after meals.”

  “Let me finish it and I won’t have one after dinner.”

  Mehpare reached out to snatch the cigarette. “Give it to me. It’s finished anyway. Give it to me or I’ll tell Saraylıhanım.” Kemal threw the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with his foot.

  “I should have known you were up to no good when I didn’t see you in the house. Every time you step into the garden you light up a cigarette.”

  Mehpare pulled a damp handkerchief out of the basket and began wiping Kemal’s tobacco-stained fingertips, muttering all the while. “Your hands smell of tobacco.”

  “What’s so vile about a cigarette?”

  “It’s bad for your lungs.”

  “What’s done is done, Mehpare.”

  “A vice abstained from is a profit gained. And it was you, wasn’t it, who was preparing to run off and save the nation? You need to be strong and healthy. You have to look after yourself.”

  “Without you by my side, there’ll be no one to tend me and no one to jail me. I’ll most certainly perish,” Kemal joked.

  “No you won’t. I’ll be looking after you.”

  “I meant after I left home.”

  “I’ll be looking after you. I’m coming with you.”

  “There’s no place for women where I’m going.”

  “Yes there is! Women are flocking to Anatolia, along with their fathers, husbands and brothers. And I’m going as well.”

  Kemal gaped in surprise. Mehpare never ceased to amaze. “Where did you pick all this up?”

  “When I went out with Behice Hanım. And later, when I spoke with Azra Hanım. In fact, I went to another gathering with her.”

  “What kind of gathering?”

  “A gathering of women.”

  “Does Saraylıhanım know about this? She’d never consent to something like that.”

  “When I told her I was going with Azra Hanım she agreed. She was staying with us, remember? That’s when we went.”

  “Azra?”

  “It wasn’t her doing; it was I who insisted.”

  “And now you’re off to Anatolia? Do you really think they’ll let you go?”

  “Sir, you’re going. I wish I’d been able to prevent it, but you wouldn’t listen to me, or to anyone else. I know you’ll go, just as you went off to Sarıkamış without asking anyone’s permission. Without you here, the walls of this house will close in on me. I won’t be able to breath. So I decided I might as well leave and serve my country. Maybe now you’ll have a higher opinion of me.”

  Kemal stood up and—without thinking of the spectacle he would present were anyone to spot them from the house—tightly enfolded Mehpare in his arms. The damp handkerchief fluttered to the ground. Mehpare pressed her face into Kemal’s chest.

  “I’ve always had a high opinion of you, Mehpare,” he said. “Please, don’t endanger yourself on my account.”

  “I want to go. I want to be of use. The girls have grown. There are servants for the housework. Let me go and become a nurse like the other women. They might even send me to wherever you’ve gone. So I’ll be able to continue caring for you.”

  “I’ll be leaving soon, but before I go to the front I’ll be staying somewhere in Istanbul. I can’t tell you where. I’ve been assigned some duties there. Then I’ll be moving on. It’s cold in the east and the unfortunate state of my lungs is no secret, so they’ll be posting to an area with a milder climate.”

  “They shouldn’t be posting you anywhere at all.”

  “How can you say that! They need everyone they can get. I’m a veteran, a trained soldier. My place is obviously on the battlefield. And you’re set on going as well. State a preference for the western front. I’ll find you, somehow.”

  Something was happening—Mehpare could feel it. Kemal was more than a bedmate: he was becoming a confidant, a collaborator. She’d been so envious of Azra, brokenhearted at the sight of Kemal lost in conversation, knee to knee, eye to eye with that blue-eyed woman. She’d despaired at the thought that there were some things she’d never be able to share with this man. But now, things were changing. She was changing. She’d gone from being the girl who runs errands, makes tea, to a woman like Azra. A savior. A patriot.

  After taking a deep drag on her cigarette, Saraylıhanım flicked the ash onto her coffee saucer and fastened her eyes on Behice. “What’s the meaning of this, Behice Hanım, my girl,” she said. Behice knew what it meant to be interrogated by Saraylıhanım, and squirmed in her seat.

  “I swear I know only as much as you. She’s taking lessons. She’s going to be a nurse.”

  “A nurse? Why does she need lessons? Hasn’t she been doing just that all these years? Wasn’t she the one who nursed Kemal the whole time he was ill?

  “It was.”

  “She didn’t seem to have these sorts of aspirations while she was actually nursing, did she? So why this sudden interest now?”

  “Why are you so angry with me? Am I the one who put this idea in her head? Why don’t you ask her, Saraylıhanım?”

  “I have. She stares at me. Pigheaded. She won’t answer my questions. I thought she might have told you something.”

  “She’s set her mind on it. She’s determined to become a licensed nurse. Azra may have led her astray.”

  “No doubt. But how could Reşat allow such nonsense! I told her she wasn’t going anywhere, and she answered, impudent as can be, that he’d already consented. So it’s come to this. We take her in, educate her, bring her up, do everything we can for her, and now she rebels.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll get something out of it after all: her training may come in handy when I give birth. Not to mention that we’re all getting older. Wouldn’t it be convenient to have a nurse in the house?”

  “The only person in this house who’s getting old is me. I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you.”

  “Don’t imagine you’re the only one affected by the passage of time. We’re all growing old.”

  “That’s beside the point. What really makes my blood boil is the way Mehpare follows Azra around, everywhere she goes, every blessed day of the week. If something were to happen to her one of these days, we’d be the ones held accountable.”

  “What could possibly happen? She walks the few steps to the Red Crescent and then comes straight back home. Suat cut her hand the other day. Mehpare bandaged it so beautifully you’d have thought it was Mahir’s work. She did a better job than most doctors.”

  “The expression ‘too clever by half ’ springs to mind. Mehpare was such a quick-witted little girl. It never pays to be too bright. A pity. May the Lord protect our girls.”

  “Saraylıhanım, why should He protect them from their own intellect?”

  “Go on, laugh. A girl should know her place. She mustn’t go round poking her nose into everything.”

  “I agree completely. But Mehpare simply wants to be a nurse. Surely there’s no harm in that?”

  “That’s what you think! She was whispering with Kemal the other day. Mark my words, you’ll see a lot more than nursing when all this is done and over.”

  “Do you mean you were listening to them?”

  “I was, naturally.”

  “Where?”

  “They were under the arbor. I walked over quite slowly and stood at the base of the linden tree. They didn’t see me.”

  “How could you do that? It’s beneath you.”

  “I couldn’t care less what is or isn’t beneath me. I learned what I needed
to learn.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “As you know, our foolish Kemal is running off to save the country, yet again. Well, it seems that this time they’re going to save it together. Mehpare will be treating patients on the front lines. And that’s not the half of it. So much for imagining she’ll be there to attend the birth of your child. Her intentions lie elsewhere.”

  “It’s Azra’s fault,” said Behice. “It’s all her doing. When she couldn’t sway me, she must have moved on to the girl.”

  “Since when has it been the duty of women to save the country?” Saraylıhanım asked. “Men save the country. Women serve their men. A man who finds peace at home is able to save not only his country, but the world. Don’t you agree?”

  “But are you sure you heard them right?” Behice asked. “Does Mehpare really intend to go off to the battlefield?”

  “That’s what I heard. And I’m going to tell Reşat. Let’s see what he means to do about it,” she said, taking a final pull on her cigarette and extinguishing it. When Behice, who was sensitive to smoke, went over to the window and threw it open, Saraylıhanım scowled. Ahmet Reşat’s bride had always been such a dainty slip of a thing. But they were all like that: either over-delicate, like Behice, or unbecomingly vigorous, like Mehpare. She had singularly failed to bring a proper woman into this house, and it vexed her. There was a time when she’d gone as far as to pair off—in her imagination—Kemal and Azra, but she’d quickly seen her folly. It was as though the Creator (heavens forefend) had set out to create a man and had, in a fit of absent-mindedness, molded Azra instead. May such a woman never set foot in this household again! Azra was out of the question, of course, but it was high time something was done about Kemal. If he’d had a wife, he’d never have embarked on this course of action. If the streets weren’t filled with enemy soldiers she herself would venture out and, a mere three neighborhoods down, find a suitable bride for Kemal. But her hands were tied, thanks to these infidels. A new account reached her ears every day of their despicable conduct. No, it wouldn’t do for a lady to venture out onto the streets, even one her age. Only madwomen like Azra had any business out and about these days.