Dear Shameless Death

by Latife Tekin

  The day Seyit started his business, he vowed to Atiye that he would set her free from their one-room dwelling. Summoning everyone in the household to his side, he announced that he would no longer be working for a pauper’s wage but would soon be setting up his own company, to be named ‘The Three’, and moving into big business. He said it was entirely possible that if the three brothers put their heads together, whatever they touched would turn to gold. Then everybody would kneel before them, and they would have cars at their disposal and plenty of property to their names. He vowed to walk over anything that stood in his way and to show no pity to anyone who shed tears and begged for mercy. Atiye, as she listened, said God willing! Then she reported a dream she had had about Seyit the previous night. Above Seyit’s head a full moon had risen, which he then plucked down and stowed away in his bosom. For Atiye this signified that Seyit would soon set up a company and become rich and that, by offering his brothers his hand, he would make a name for them all. Dressed up sharply, Seyit kissed his mother’s hand, stepped down the stairs and ventured forth to become a rich man. After he had left, Dirmit spread out her books on top of the sewing machine and started to study.

  Upon hearing her mother resolve, on her sickbed, that she should get an education, Dirmit did not lift her head from her books. She brought home from school authorized certificates of praise, which Atiye had framed and then hung up on the walls. Word soon spread in the neighbourhood about what a hardworking pupil Dirmit was. Everyone from Akçalı was soon chattering in their homes and coffee-houses about Dirmit and her authorized certificates. She would wake up in a delirium, they said, speaking in strange, incomprehensible tongues. She could also multiply in her head, divide ten-digit numbers as fast as rushing water and recite pages and pages of writing by heart. As her reputation passed from ear to ear, Dirmit’s djinn and the Djinnman’s notch were quite forgotten. Everyone agreed that thanks to her Akçalı’s name would be known all over the world. Some believed that Dirmit would be the only educated person ever to emerge from Akçalı, while others declared that she would erect huge buildings in Akçalı or become a doctor and treat all the Akçalı people for free.

  Fear gripped Atiye when Dirmit’s reputation grew to ten thousand times her actual size. A thousand times she regretted ever having shown her daughter’s certificates to all her visitors and ever having displayed them on the walls. So deeply worried did she become that Dirmit might be touched by the evil eye that she filled her daughter’s school bag and bosom with blue beads that weighed at least half as much as Dirmit did herself. ‘Don’t teach others what you know,’ Atiye admonished her daughter, ‘otherwise you’ll fall behind.’ ‘Our girl’s fallen behind! Who knows? She might fail,’ she complained, turning away the Akçalı women who had knitted sweaters and gloves for Dirmit in exchange for her overseeing their own children’s work. She took down from the walls the framed certificates, packed them up and hid them away in a chest. Dirmit couldn’t fathom why the women brought her sweaters and gloves, nor why her mother had suddenly become so overwrought, telling lies and stuffing her school bag with heavy blue beads. Feeling confused, she put on her white shirt and navy blue skirt, swung the oversize school bag over her shoulder and took off to visit the birdie-bird plant.

  ‘Birdie-bird plant, I’m so angry with my mother!’

  ‘Why? Don’t be like that!’

  ‘But she says you shouldn’t teach others what you know.’

  ‘What do you know?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you telling me you don’t know what you know?’

  ‘I wish I did!’

  ‘What would you do then?’

  ‘I’d spread it around without telling my mother!’

  Dirmit couldn’t convince the birdie-bird plant that she didn’t know anything. Even though she swore that she felt very ashamed when the people from Akçalı spoke to her affectionately or came by bearing sweaters and gloves, the birdie-bird plant refused to listen. ‘You little liar, you!’ it laughed in her face, swaying its leaves to the left and right. It annoyed Dirmit that the birdie-bird plant wouldn’t believe her. And the angrier she became, the more insistently the birdie-bird plant taunted her: ‘Confess, confess, you’re really pleased, aren’t you?’ In the end there was nothing Dirmit could do but admit that she was pleased. When the birdie-bird plant burst out laughing, Dirmit flew into a rage and stamped her feet. ‘So what! Who cares!’ she flung back as she stomped off. Then she turned and shouted from a distance, ‘I feel both ashamed and pleased.’

  Huvat returned after visiting the grave of his mother with as much news from the village as there was writing in his green books. He started with the good news that the village was now supplied with electricity. Then he reported with a sigh that Türüdü’s son Musa had peed – Zap! – on a live cable. They all laughed at this, but, when he told them how Türüdü’s son was killed on the spot, the laughter instantly froze on their lips. ‘He’s the boy that’s the same age as Mahmut, isn’t he?’ Atiye asked softly and started to weep as she launched into a lament about how difficult it had been for the family to have a son after five daughters. Then she asked after Gülayşe, the boy’s mother. Huvat related how she had wandered about, weeping and cursing the electricity. Then he went on to describe the yellow weeds that had taken over his mother’s grave and the ants that had nested there, laying eggs as big as a hen’s. He also announced that Aşır Memet’s daughter had run off to the village of Sıǧgın. ‘So what happened then, man?’ Atiye asked curiously, looking intently at Huvat as she beat her knees. Huvat explained that Aşır Memet had held back for a while out of pride, but then had finally made up with his daughter. Next Huvat listed all the people who had contributed to the contents of the suitcases and carrier bags that he had dragged into the middle of the room before sitting down. As she extracted bundles of erişte pastry, sacks full of skimmed yogurt and dried apricots, Atiye started crying all over again. Then Nuǧber started to cry. Meanwhile, Huvat recounted in detail how the entire village had hiked all the way up to the sheepfold to see him off, and how the women had wept as they recalled how Atiye had always been so good to them. As he reported each detail one by one, Dirmit spun about him, asking, ‘Is the water pump still there? Is there a teacher at the school? Have the roses bloomed? Did you see Keşli Rıfat’s son Ömer? Have you been to Savmanı? To Üçoluk?’ Huvat promised Dirmit that the next time he visited the village he would take her along with him. ‘No, I won’t go!’ Dirmit said suddenly and started to weep. ‘I won’t!’ And why won’t you go, girl?’ Atiye shot back, scolding her.

  Huvat talked on until late evening, and Atiye, sighing, picked up wherever he left off. Then Nuǧber remembered a game. ‘Come on, let’s play “Pine Log”,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come on, then,’ echoed Huvat and started the game. He thought of a household in the village, telling the others how many people live there. ‘A man and his wife, four little rams and two little ewes, with two wooden posts holding up their house, and a pine log. Now guess who they are!’ he said as he withdrew into his corner. Resting their faces on the palms of their hands, everyone set to thinking. ‘Ayşe’s family, who roam through the fields,’ suggested Atiye. ‘The chatterboxes?’ asked Nuǧber. ‘The midwife’s family,’ Seyit put in. Since no one could guess, Huvat offered some more clues. ‘The pine log, an old hag,’ he said and added that the house was near the narrow road. They guessed it, naming every person in the household. Then it was Nuǧber’s turn to think of a household, and Seyit’s turn to guess. They sat thinking and guessing until midnight, when Atiye served them some of the yogurt and honey that Zekiye’s mother had sent along. They formed a circle as they knelt before their bowls. While Zekiye gulped, her gaze lost in her mother’s honey and yogurt, the others ate until they had finished it all up. Then, sighing, they all turned in. A moment after they had closed their eyes, they were back at the sheepfold, walking down the path towards the village.

  The next morning Mahmut got up and headed
off towards the advertising agency that stood on a long, long street lined with enormous shops. Craving a lunch of bread-wrapped meatballs, he set aside the money his boss had given him for travel expenses, snatched up the invoices and trotted from one district to another delivering them. When he stepped back into the office, breathless but joyful, he was surprised, and blushed at the sight of the blonde, blue-eyed girl who worked there sitting on the boss’s lap. Angrily the boss bounced the girl off his lap and, in a rage, kicked Mahmut out of the office. Thereafter, whenever Mahmut returned from delivering the orders, he sat down to wait in a wooden chair in front of the entrance until the evening, as he had been instructed to.

  In addition to his delivery round, Mahmut received some money from his boss each day to go and buy cigarettes. Mahmut called on Crip Arm, who led him down dark alleys to a house with a low ceiling where he wrapped up the boxes that Mahmut then tucked under his arm and took back to his boss.

  Mahmut’s errands soon increased as he started supplying cigarettes for the other bosses, office girls and men in the same block as his office. Supplemented by his cigarette deliveries, business boomed. After Mahmut struck a deal with Crip Arm for a commission per pack, his earnings doubled. He no longer had to go on foot to afford his bread-wrapped meatballs for lunch, for he could now pay his travel as well. If he passed by a movie poster that made him sigh to see the film, he had the price of a ticket. Soon Crip Arm offered to make him a business partner. He met with Mahmut and tried to persuade him to leave his job at the advertising agency so that he could spend all his time delivering cigarettes and selling bingo cards. Mahmut mulled over the proposal for a few days, and the more he pondered it the more intimidating he found the pockmarks on Crip Arm’s face and the dark, low-ceilinged house where he wrapped up the cigarettes. In the end he turned down Crip Arm’s offer and stuck with his job at the office but continued with his cigarette deliveries. He carried wads of cash with him to Crip Arm’s place, wrapped up the cigarettes and passed them on either in packets or singly.

  One day he didn’t find Crip Arm at his place and, after stuffing all the cash in his pocket, he wandered down a side street in search of him. Then he took a seat at a coffee-house to wait for Crip Arm to show up. He crossed his legs, lit up a cigarette and ordered a glass of tea. Then, as he sat there sipping his tea, the devil gave him a little nudge. Taking the wads of money out of his pocket, he licked his fingertip and started to make a big show of counting it all, flashing the notes in front of the whole coffee-house crowd. When he’d finished, he ordered another tea and sat smacking his lips as he sipped it. Then, casting a brief, sweeping glance at those sitting around him, he took his leave and strode whistling down the alley towards the house where Crip Arm did his packing. He wasn’t halfway down the alley when a hand grabbed him tightly by the neck. Before he could utter a sound, another hand pulled the cash out of his pocket and punched him in the belly. Mahmut gave a movie-style groan and buckled over onto his knees in the middle of the alley. The money had gone.

  Mahmut got back on his feet and walked all the way home. He didn’t tell anyone that he couldn’t go back to the office because he’d been mugged. Withdrawing to a corner, for days he was frightened that the police would come after him to arrest him for theft. After a long time hiding out at home, never going out in the street, he started to peer through the window at the children playing outside. Teams of boys played football, while Mahmut, from his window, acted as referee. Soon, however, his fervor to join the players overcame his fear.

  On the day he went outside, he played like he was mad to make up for all the days he had spent inside. He smashed the windows of two houses when he kicked the ball. Then, with Atiye bellowing after him, he fled into the park. There he swung on the swings, vaulted the railings and scrambled onto the roof of the watchman’s hut. Still unsatisfied, he split the children in the park into two groups, one of which scattered among the trees to make Red Indian headdresses for themselves. Mahmut elected himself chief of the Red Indians and designated a blonde girl as the commander of the other group. Then, gathering together sticks and stones, they began their war game. Some were shot and others ran off, while the blonde commander, who had been taken captive, was held by the hands and waist and brought before Mahmut, who commanded that she be tied to the tall horse chestnut tree. However, after the girl started to cry he became distraught and ordered her to be released. Then he escorted her down to the seaside to watch the rowboats passing by.

  The next day the girl was waiting for Mahmut in the park. As soon as he went up to her, she pointed out two boys who were strangers to the neighbourhood sitting under the trees. Planting himself directly before them, Mahmut kicked one, head-butted the other and ran them both out of the park. As the boys sped off, never looking back, the blonde girl fell in love with Mahmut. Two days later Mahmut received a letter from the blonde girl. Lifting the stone that lay under the horse chestnut tree, he found a twice-folded sheet of pink paper, which he picked up and read. Then he rushed home with the paper pressed to his breast. Shutting himself up in the toilet, he took out a razor and carved the girl’s name on his breast, wiping away the blood with his shirt. After the blood had ceased to flow, razor marks the colour of roses swelled up, then faded so that they showed up on Mahmut’s breast as a thin, dried crust spelling out the blonde girl’s name. Early the next morning, Mahmut entered the park to wait for the blonde girl under the horse chestnut tree. When she arrived, she bowed her head shyly, blushing deeply as she offered her hand to Mahmut, who then exposed his naked breast to her. She was frightened at first, then pleased. They sat and talked for a long time that day, telling each other all about themselves and making pledges. Mahmut let her know that he was quick to anger, that he wouldn’t put up with the girl he loved playing or speaking with other boys and that if he ever found out that she was eyeing other boys, not only would he beat them up, but her as well. When he discovered that the blonde girl was by nature just as jealous as he himself was, he felt put upon and made sure she knew that he wouldn’t let anyone tie him down. He asked her whether, if he went off to work, she would wait on her balcony for him to return. The girl vowed that she would neither come down from her balcony nor give any other boys the eye.

  Just before they took leave of each other, Mahmut suggested that they agree to a letter-writing contest. And so the correspondence began. First the girl wrote him a five-page letter, to which Mahmut responded with eleven pages. When she sent him a twenty-one-page letter, Mahmut requested Dirmit’s help. ‘Be a good sister to me, girl,’ he pleaded, which meant that Dirmit would have to give up doing her homework. They went down the steps to the stone-paved hallway, where they spread out sheets of paper on the cold slabs and composed a fifty-page letter. But the girl vowed that she would be the winner. She cut each of her sheets of paper down the middle, leaving two thin strips, which she then glued together in a long strip and drew hearts pierced with arrows and dripping with blood across the joins. From calendars and greeting cards she cut out enormous roses, which she pasted on, then filled up the empty spaces with writing, thus producing a letter 101 pages long. She rolled up and tied the letter, then dropped it down to Mahmut as he passed by whistling beneath her balcony. When Mahmut took the scroll home, unrolled it on the floor and saw the huge roses and arrow-pierced hearts covering half the sheets, he got angry because he felt that the girl had cheated. Leaving the scroll in the middle of the room, he went back into the street and asked the girl to come to the park. She came running to meet him under the horse chestnut tree. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you would do such a thing,’ Mahmut sulked. The girl begged and cried, swearing her love for him, and even though Mahmut realized that she really did love him very much, he wouldn’t stand for her cheating him. So he left her standing there in tears and returned home.

  When he found Atiye holding the girl’s last missive, the 101-page scroll, he felt odd. Atiye asked her son who had sent the letter, and he shot back irritably, ‘None of your busine
ss, just somebody who loves me.’ He was in such a sulk that he wouldn’t even look at the letter when it lay, later that evening, spread out in the middle of the room with everyone gathered around it. ‘Who cares what the little bastard’s been up to,’ Huvat grumbled at first, but his curiosity gradually got the better of him until, pushing the green books from his lap, he took up the scroll and started to read from it, punctuating the words with nods of his head. As everyone giggled, Mahmut put on all kinds of airs, finally bowing under pressure from the whole household and promising to show the girl to anyone who might like to see her.

  The next day Atiye followed Mahmut to the park, where, from a distance, he pointed out the girl. ‘You really are a good-for-nothing,’ Atiye exclaimed when they got home. ‘The girl’s beautiful!’ Huvat found it disgraceful that his grown-up wife would follow her little boy to the park to look at some girl. But when he heard her go on about how the girl had run off giggling when she saw Atiye standing at Mahmut’s side, Huvat grew more curious. ‘Let me have a look at the girl too,’ he insisted. So, without Mahmut knowing anything about it, Atiye accompanied Huvat to the park and pointed the girl out to him. Coughing, his green books under his arm, Huvat walked alone into the park. However, he didn’t honour the promises that Atiye had extracted from him that he would take a good look at the girl as he passed by. Feeling too shy to glance over at the girl who was in love with his son, he lowered his head and strode quickly past her. When Huvat was safely out of sight, Atiye strolled over to the swings and beckoned the girl to her side. ‘You know Mahmut, don’t you? Well, I’m his mother,’ she said, embarrassing the girl. Then she quizzed her, listening attentively as the girl explained at length why she and Mahmut were no longer on speaking terms.

  Arriving home in a huff, Atiye drew Mahmut aside and informed him that she wouldn’t call him her son if he refused to talk to the girl. As soon as he heard that his mother had spoken with the girl, Mahmut blew up. He stomped about and screamed his lungs out. This so frightened Atiye that, after waiting impatiently all day for Huvat to come home, she met him at the top of the stairs and warned him not to mention that he had seen the girl. Huvat paid her no mind, however, and let slip at dinner the news that he had seen the blonde girl who was going to be his daughter-in-law on the park swings. Mahmut flung his spoon down on the tray, leapt up and swore violently at everyone who had seen or talked to the girl. Then he stormed out, leaving his meal untouched. Huvat sent Dirmit to find her brother. When she came upon him, slumped beside the park railings crying, she sat down beside him, but said nothing.