Faruk Pasha stepped out from beneath the oak tree, gave Keri a hug and turned to the throng. Peppered with gray, and wearing a black suit, he stooped at the waist. He smiled at the crowd with heavy-lidded eyes and brushed an errant strand of hair back from his glistening forehead. “Good morning, friends. My name is Faruk Pasha. For many years, Dr. Kazerian and I were colleagues at Euclid Community Hospital, and together we took an improbable journey to forgiveness. You see, Sirak Kazerian was not only my friend; he was also my uncle, and the brother of my mother, Flora.”
A murmur ran through the mourners. David looked up with surprise and glanced at an equally shocked Michael.
“Since I’m a Turk, I believe most of you understand that truly is a miracle. But Sirak and I weren’t always friends; in fact, even though we were both born near the same small village in Anatolia, attended the same medical school in Beirut and, by chance, worked in the same medical facility, ate in the same cafeteria, and served on the same hospital committees, we never uttered a single word to each other for over two years. Then, in 1980, something truly miraculous happened here in Cleveland. This great man, Sirak Kazerian, without regard for his own career or the security of his family, rescued me from circumstances that surely would’ve destroyed my career. Dr. Kazerian risked everything for me, a Turk, even though he never imagined in his wildest dreams he was my uncle.” Pasha smiled munificently.
“He learned the truth about our common ancestry a short time later when he came to my house for dinner and discovered a photograph of his sister, Flora, my mother, hanging on the wall in our dining room. But even then, he never told me. I only learned the truth three days ago when Keri Kazerian telephoned me after his father’s death.
“When I arrived in Cleveland, Keri shared with me the details of his father’s past, and what had happened to Dr. Kazerian as a child, and to his parents and brothers and sisters. What a remarkable life this great man lived! It was a life filled with horrible tragedy, but also enormous courage, sacrifice, faith and hope. After Keri talked with me, I kept wondering why Dr. Kazerian never told me he was my uncle, why he didn’t tell me about my mother, his sister. As I thought about his life, and everything that had happened to him, I finally understood.
“He thought the truth about my father and the abduction and forced marriage of my mother would shake not only my world, but my children’s world, too. And that, in a nutshell, is who Sirak Kazerian was—a man who always put the feelings of others ahead of his own. I’m sure it’ll take a long time for me to come to grips with all that’s happened. But this information also brought a new sense of compassion and understanding to my life, and for that I am grateful.
“As I stand here today, it is my hope that Sirak Kazerian’s life can foster healing and understanding and build a bridge between two great peoples, the Armenians and the Turks, in the same way his death built a bridge between two unlikely families.” Pasha lapsed into silence.
He turned slightly, stared at the casket for a moment, and then looked up at the mourners. “It will, of course, be difficult to achieve this reconciliation, but it’s not impossible. It must begin one person at a time, and grow through understanding and compassion for the suffering of others. Sirak came to understand this, and now I understand this, too. May God bless His great servant Sirak Kazerian and bring peace to his soul.”
Faruk nodded to Keri. “Thank you,” he muttered. Glancing once more at Sirak’s coffin, he bowed his head and walked over to David and Michael.
David smiled warmly and took Faruk’s hand. In that instant, the sun broke through the clouds and shone brightly on Sirak’s grave.
GLOSSARY
Abee, Arabic, term for father
Ajaweed, Arabic, the very religious people among the Druze
Al-Hakim, Arabic, worshiped by the Druze (al-Hakim, 985–1021, an Ismaili caliph) as the embodiment of God
Bedel or bedel-i askeri, Arabic, a tax paid for exemption from military service in the Ottoman Empire
Cheki, Ottoman, a unit of weight, 1 cheki = 175–195 okka = 225–250 kilograms
Chetes, Turkish, paramilitary bands often formed of criminals and bandits taken from prison
Choereg bread, Armenian, a slightly sweet bread popular with Armenians
Effendi, Turkish, Used as a title of respect for men in Turkey, equivalent to sir.
Habibi, Arabic, word that literally means my beloved. It is commonly also used for friend, darling and similar endearments.
Hikmah, Arabic, the Druze religious laws
Juhhl Arabic, in the Druze religion, the “ignorant” Druze people who do not know Druze doctrine. The majority of Druze who are not Uqql.
Kelek raft, Turkish, raft made of inflated animal skins tied together and floored over with reeds.
Khalwa, Arabic, a Druze house of worship
Khan, Turkish, a lodge or crude shelter used by travelers for rest
Kufiya, Arabic, traditional headdress typically worn by men that is made of a square of cloth, usually cotton, folded and wrapped in various styles around the head
Kurus, Ottoman Turkish, a standard unit of currency in the Ottoman Empire
Lira, Turkish, Turkish gold lira was equal to 100 kurus
Muwahhidun, Arabic, term the Druze use to refer to their religion and people
Porteños, Spanish, a term used to refer to residents of Buenos Aires, Argentina
Shalwar, Hindi, loose, pajama like full-length garment worn by both men and women in India and Southeast Asia
Shirwal, Arabic, baggy traditional pants
Uqql, Arabic, in the Druze religion, an elite of initiates who alone know Druze doctrine
Ummee, Arabic, term for mother
The Ghosts of Anatolia Page 42