Violets of Istanbul MENEKŞE: Easy Reading

By TÜLİN ERBAŞ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LitFire Publishing
• Release date: May 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643984360

TÜLİN ERBAŞ

Tulin came from Istanbul, Turkey to Sarnia, Ontario in 1967. She has lived in Edmonton, Alberta for 35 years with her husband Mustafa. She has two sons Miraҁ and Mohaҁ and is a proud grandmother of Rachel and James. She was heavily involved with the Canadian Writers Association. The Ontario Art Council gave her a grant for the continuation of her work with the Canadian Writers Association. When she was elected president of that organization.

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Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018959631

ISBN-13: 978-1-64398-436-0

Printed in the United States of America

LitFire LLC

1-800-511-9787

www.litfirepublishing.com

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

Introduction of

Violets of Istanbul a social novel:

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

INTRODUCTION

11921-63 Street

Edmonton, Alberta

T5W 4G2

Tel/Fax: [phone]

Email: [e-mail]

Tulin came from Istanbul, Turkey to Sarnia, Ontario in 1967. She has lived in Edmonton, Albert for 35 years with her husband Mustafa. She has two sons Miraҁ and Mohaҁ and is a proud grandmother of Rachel and James.

She was born and educated in Istanbul. She started writing short stories and poems in high school for newspapers and literary magazines. A famous poet Behcet Kemal Caglar discovered Tulin Erba’s poems and read them on radio programs.

Way back in 1835, Muderris (a head professor at a University) in Turkey selected her great grandfather’s literary works for the National Library in Ankara, Turkey. Tulin truly has a literary gift as does her family.

Her grandfather, Muftu, (was a Jurrist Priest) and worked for 40 years in the Eastern Turkish city of Mus. As well; Tulin’s mother and father were teachers. She grew up under hard discipline and is thankful for this now.

Her adaptation of Canadian life in Ontario includes her lake front setting in a beautiful house with many sunny windows and reflections of the snow. Her inspirations are a happy family life, good friends, a strong literary society and the opportunity to make Canada her second homeland. She continues to visit Turkey and draws further inspiration from those trips.

INTRODUCTION

Allow me to introduce you to VIOLETS OF ISTANBUL a social novel.

As a native of Turkey, now living in Canada, I have presented Istanbul as she really is, a woman swathed in purple, silent yet strong, full of mystery and life, a fascinating jewel. She can be sad or angry but never dull… Always interesting and beautiful even if she is unable to take care of herself… a rare gem.

The novel explores the prejudices and injustices of ever — day life in Istanbul, the various social structures and classes, the yo-yo effect of living in such a diverse culture: Old vs New, rich vs poor.

Although the story is threaded and interwoven to create a colorful mosaic, each chapter is an entity, a link in a strong chain; each expresses a different view and contains its own short story.

The novel takes place a couple of decades ago and involves social reactions to abortion, prostitution, military and political life, affairs of the heart. It is a tale about life and all it is joys and despairs.

Istanbul is built on seven hills. In Violets of Istanbul I have tried to portray the view from those hills enhanced by the omnipotent Bosphorus.

Tulin Erbas

Introduction of

Violets of Istanbul a social novel:

As a native of Turkey, now living in Canada, I have presented Istanbul as she really is, a woman swathed in purple, silent yet strong, full of mystery and life, a fascinating jewel. She can be sad or angry but never dull… Always interesting and beautiful even if she is unable to take care of herself… a rare gem.

The novel explores the prejudices and injustices of ever — day life in Istanbul, the various social structures and classes, the yo-yo effect of living in such a diverse culture: Old vs New, rich vs poor.

Although the story is threaded and interwoven to create a colorful mosaic, each chapter is an entity, a link in a strong chain; each expresses a different view and contains its own short story.

The novel takes place a couple of decades ago and involves social reactions to abortion, prostitution, military and political life, affairs of the heart. It is a tale about life and all it is joys and despairs.

Istanbul is built on seven hills. In Violets of Istanbul I have tried to portray the view from those hills enhanced by the omnipotent Bosphorus.

Istanbul was a real violet with its beautiful women, with the Colors of the waters of Bosphorus, which started to turn into Violet with a trembling or there reposes in the flower pots.

The tender Violets, fuchsias, snapdragons in the pots on the Balconies were waking up to the morning with a tender Swaying of their tender, dark green steams and leaves… Reaching out to the morning light, in silence, half sleep.

CHAPTER 1

BROTHER AHMET

Apprentice Tu ncer said:

Let me wash and you roll Ahmet. Ahmet paused importantly and approved:

Okay.

The Beyhan and Manucurist Suhran smiled. The new apprentice boy was all ears. He handed two pins to Ahmet and resumed his eavesdropping.

Ahmet was sweating hard under his closed-neck, peanut-green, German made shirt. The new apprentice was just about ready to wipe off some of the sweat from Ahmet’s neck; Ahmet pushed him aside without making any customers notice. Necla from Macka was one of his permanent customers for the last five years. Necla was looking down and Ahmet was relieved, thinking she did not notice the apprentice.

Tuncer signalled the other boy to a room; the boy almost flew. Tuncer opened all of his ten fingers in his hand:

My son, you are here only for a few days, and you are already in between the legs of the broads. Control yourself! You must know the customers! Ahmet’s and mine! Do you understand, ehh?

The apprentice was looking downward. Tuncer paused for a long time now:

For instance, take Necla! I like her very much too. I like her very much indeed’. Do you understand what I ‘m getting at? But I don’t screw things up. When you screw things up, you see, you understand?

The new apprentice felt run down. He was trying to look respectful to Tuncer. Tuncer paused again:

You understand, don’t you? This is not Gazi Osman Pasa, Zeytinburnu or Menekse! You have to be more alert’. You have to be clever, alert if you want to put more money in your pocket, get more tips.’

Manicurist Sukran, was wiping up a bowl, leaning against a shelf. The apprentice stared at her. Sukran gave him a smile, an assurance that it was alright for his clumsy glance. The apprentice was relieved some:

Sukran is more manly . . . Manlier than Tuncer. He is a man too, but more a slave to Ahmet, he said to himself.

Tuncer left the place but left all the combs, brushes in front of the new boy.

That bastard Bulgarian is testing me again. I know what to do around here’. To take care of the brushes, combs, loose hair on the floor, the coats of the ladies, manicure bowls, the refreshment for the customers, either hot or cold, the canopies.

He put the brushes under the faucet. Washed them well. Tuncer was back again, making him uneasy, confused, and causing him to be clumsier. Was he making another mistake again? Oh, yeah, he should not wet the brushes’. Tuncer was staring at him, his hands at his hips, silently. He could feel his water buffalo-like eyes, his dripping yellow mustache, fixed on him.

You shitty Bulgarian, buffalo eyes he said again to himself.

Maybe he should persuade his mother to agree to let him take that job with Cemil’s candy shop tonight. But he could not expect to learn a trade with Cemil’s shop. He was very knowledgeable there, working as a helper. Cemil had been very good to him, even calling him ‘his son’, He knew about different candy, the cones, and the way the candy is used on different occasions. And he was getting better and better each day. His mother had insisted that he should have a trade and forced him to work with Ahmet. Suphi’s mother recommended the place to her. Suphi now was in the service, doing well. He was treated as if he was the master of his division. His lieutenant had never slapped him on the face, even once. They were preparing for his engagement, his business, after he was discharged from the Service. The wives of the officers could not do without him! They already were saying:

You open your shop Suphi! We will come there no matter where it is!

Cemil was paying good money to Cafer. But the trade of Ahmet, the advantages of the tipping of the ladies were different. Ahmet was not that bad, but this Tuncer:-it was almost necessary to be a bandit or something to get along with this bastard. He wanted to lay him down, put a knife on his throat and he wanted to tell him:

Tell me you bastard how you like Naciye, how you like Necla and the other artists? How do you like her? How are you bothering Sukran? Why are you picking on me, on my cleaning brushes, my taking care of combs? Tell me you Bulgarian Bastard!

Ahmet was talking:

Cafer, Son, take care of this lady I

Cafer ran to Necla« Ahmet pointed out:

The dryers

Cafer helped the ladies get out of the dryers, showing them the chairs. He dusted the dryers with his towel. Madam Lili took scissors from Cafer’s hand:

Where did you find this lion-cub, Ahmet?

Ahmet looked to Cafer with a warm smile. Cafer felt the warmth in his heart. He liked the Madam and was elated.

Nesrin took her head out of the dryer and asked something to Madam. Cafer helped Necla to the dryer and showed Madam to Ahmet’s chair. Ahmet sure did a good job on Necla’s hair, he thought. Madam Lili was glad when she heard the noise of Necla’s dryer and started joking with Ahmet. Ahmet was sweating. He went to change his shirt and came back. It was a narrow, tightly fitting, red shirt, showing the hairs on his chest. Cafer said silently to himself:

When I am like Ahmet . . .

Madam Lili was turning her chair occasionally and putting her hand on Ahmet’s chest, pretending to pluck his chest hairs, in laughter. The manicurist girls and Tuncer also were laughing.

"Ahmet Ii?

Madam Lili; I’m ticklish! Very ticklish! Please! My balls will burst:

The girls elbowed each other:

Ahmet’s balls will burst!

Madam Lili, still tickling:

Ahh.’ I’d like to sleep on your balls, on your balls!

Cafer missed the 7:35 PM train that night to his house at Menehse. His mother would look for him again at her door. The Pig Rifat would walk up and down on her door. His mother would leave the door, but he would continue to show up again and again on the street. Cafer felt uneasy, too bad. He could not make that train. He bought a sweet roll for 25 cent from the corner buffet. There was nothing to do except to wait for the next train. He changed his mind when he was coming down from the steps of Yeni Kapi Station and turned back. He was runing now on Yeni Kapi street. The front of the movie house was crowded again. He walked to Vatan Street.

The lights were turned on early today. He thought they were early in summer and in time in winter, while staring at the posts.

Cekmece, Ceknece! They were shouting at the minibus stop. He remembered his mother’s advise:

"Don’t try to save money on food! Be in time for travel, prefer trains. They are safer. Beware of the minibuses, buses, they are dangerous I Prefer trains, they are safe and cheap’."

His mother’s advice still ringing in his ears, he stepped into the minibus, ignoring it. The driver sped, he did not mind paying for Cekmece. He was glad for the tips he was getting at the shop. He was grateful to Madam, Necla, the General’s wife, Lady Susan, Afet and all the ladies of Osmanbey. Especially for Ahmet.

Ahmet is like a brother to me, a real man, very unique’. He never gets jealous on the tips-He’s worthy! He is a man’. I swear he is a true man! I won’t leave that place’. I won’t tell my mother. What about Tuncer? They have all been good to me, God knows. All the ladies have been good to me. The richness, to be a rich., is something, it’s ultimate, it’s good! It’s been only two weeks, only two small weeks. My mother will be so happy when she sees these crisp 2 1/2 and fives! Let me see. .how much was todays? Two fives, six twos and a halves, five singles, . . . very good. I was sweating more at the candy shop, besides it was dirtier! Besides, it was lonely This place? It’s more fun. I’ll open my eyes, will open them wide’. Tuncer is one of us.My mother integrates them as Albania?, Bulgarian, etc . . . but! She is right, too . . . right but . . . The Albanian is also different., but at least they are not hangry! Hangry, we are not! If I had a father, I could go to a trade school, maybe police academy. If I had my father’. Wished he did not leave us like this behind. We lost him too early . . .

The Minibus was very crowded. Cafer was sitting next to the door on a stool. The driver and his assistant were engaged in a conversation, the passengers were silent. Nuri with the beautiful voice, was singing on the 3-track:

"My boots are full of sand,

Need a shovel to shovel them off.

To be able to sleep with my sweetheart,

I need a big heart."

Cafer took a glance at. his house from the hilltop. His mother was not at ‘the door waiting for him. He was relieved with gladness. He arrived much earlier than the train he missed. But his mother could be mad because he took the minibus instead. She could believe that he missed the train. She knew her son very well. Very well indeed. She was fanning the charcoal brazier. There were eggplants, green peppers., tomatoes, and a garlic smell coming from the table underneath the grape vine in the garden. When she saw Cafer coming she arranged the livers on the brazier. Seller put the radio on the window sell, Yildiz pushed the table nearer to the couch and arranged the pillows on the backside, inviting him to sit in the corner. Cafer:

No, no, impossible, you sit there.

You sit first, brother, I can sit here-like this.

They pull the table closer. Her mother’s scarf on her head was slipping back, a radiant beam on her face. Her golden earrings were shining under a 100 watt bulb. Cafer:

God bless Sister Turkan of the Police.

They had to borrow the bulb and the card from Turkan’s shanty, next door. ‘The officials were complaining about this side of the shanty being too close to the sidewalk. Turkan had said: You just keep quiet for a while. We’ll think of something else in the winter!

Sister Turkan occasionally tipped Seher when sl\e sent her to buy things for her from the corner store. Sometimes she took Yildiz to the movies too. Her husband wouldn’t let her go alone. Cafer’s mother would not permit Seher to go with her as she was a grown up girl. But she wouldn’t mind for Yildiz. When Yildiz returns from these trips, she would talk about nothing but this all day, explaining Sister Turkan. ‘We never took the bus . . . we took the cab. We had ice cream, soda. She bought chocolate’."

Her mother used to make Turkan taste Albanian dishes, yogurt and sourcraut. Even taught her how to make yogurt . . . but Turkan’s yogurt were never as good as her mother’s. Her mother’s sour craut, liver dishes were entirely different.

They had the best shanty in the neighborhood. The shanty had everything. Ice-box, washing and sewing machines, natural gas oven. Her husband brings things home, mornings and evenings. The extra carpets were rolled ‘ up, standing behind the door. She had a record player, records, her utensil chest was full. Her clothes were made in Germany. She had bracelets, and rings with huge stones.

When Sister Turkan decided to visit her mother at Laleli for a night, it was Cafer’s duty to look after the house.

Cafer made the rounds at night around the house, checking everything. She sure was a clean cut, innocent, nice woman. But Tosun’s wife, had another opinion. She used to call her a Cekmece whore. When one cannot prove the accusation . . . It was a sin . . . Dirty rumors . . . As far as Cafer was concerned, she was okay in his books. She used to keep his mother¹ s tomato pastes in her icebox, supplying them with ice all summer long. She even left the keys with him when she left for her mother:-

You can keep your meals in the icebox, please don’t hesitate she said.

His mother put a large chunk of liver on his plate.

"Eat son, eat . . . If I hadn’t you, if I hadn’t?¹¹

Something was choking Cafer. She shouldnft be this sad. It was natural for him to take care of the house and his mother*

No mother. I’ll take some roast, he said.

They exchange the liver with Yildiz. Yildiz’s eyes were shining.

She is too young, too innocent;, poor thing he thought.

Seher was changing die station on ‘die radio. Cafer laid down on "the couch by the grapevine. Yildiz went out side to play. Seher was helping her mother with the dishes. Her mother turned the radio off, scorning:

"Let him nap . . . all day, all those times he spends on the road. He’s a mere child. He doesn’t wish to go to the movies. .Poor thing.,!

His mother was thinking;

"Ahmet’s job is good. May God bless Turkan. If it was not her finding this job for him, what would we do? The debts, the bills for the radio, carpeting . . . Thanks God, if it continues like this, it won’t be too bad, It would be easy to pay for the coal . . . this is winter . . . when she finishes fifth grade, a sewing machine for her. School can go to hell. To hell with the people who gave advice. I certainly can’t take care of her and her school too, all by myself. No, no, I have to teach her to work. She must learn how to sew. With the other . . . the other. Both must learn and settle down at home. They can help each other. Couldn’t they be like Sultan’s daughters? They are better than a man at earning. The Knitter made them well off. He even provided a machine for them. Piece work, 3, 4, 5, liras per piece, lots of money* Earn at your own home.

They don’t have to worry about a foreman, bosses, transportation; to work at a distant place. The only thing that has to be done, is to deliver the sweaters once a week.

No, I’ll never work at that tobacco company anymore. Besides, that man took every bit of strength out of me. What is the result of ten years of struggling? Just a shanty! A shanty without running water, electricity, road . . . on top of it, the cold, the winter. My son-in-law is not even a man to put a cement floor in the kitchen. That miserable thing, he thinks of no one but himself, and the comfort of his mother and his father. Did they really deserve to be sent to Yalova for a hot spring treatment at his expense? Where do you find this kind of pleasure? Who else takes care of these other than our silly son-in-law.’ And my daughter, beautiful, with two kids . . . what about her? Hasn’t she missed her mother, hasn’t she ever had a desire to see her mother? Hasn’t she thought once that her mother is alone all by herself? Couldn’t she take one of the kids, take a train? Can’t their grandmother take care of one of them just for a day? It’s so close. Maybe I should ask Turkan to call her from the station and ask her to meet me at the candy shop. There is no news from her for four Sundays. That son-in-law of mine could not stay for dinner, took my daughter away . . . it is easy to say You also come, come and visit! How could I visit? I don’t even have a coat. What about the girls? Let’s say I can take them with me, but, what about the money for the train? Let’s say I should leave them behind, with whom?

Sister Turkan brought some Yugoslavian tea. Cafer got up in a hurry from the couch. Turkan was asking about Ahmet, Sukran and Beyhan. Seher put the tea kettle on the charcoal brazier. Mother came out, drying her hands. They put their feet on the bottom sections of their chairs, their elbows on the table, sitting around. Seher put a checkered table cloth on the table and brought tea glasses on a tray. Her mother was content. She said:

She is going to be very handy. She is not going to be a dummy. The water started to boil, slowly. One or two caterpillars dropped to the table from the grape-vine. The mother grabbed them and threw them away.

There was new music coming from the open air theatre. They were planning to show three pictures.

The first one was: The girl who guards the Mountains.

The second one was: The Chauffeur of Little Lady.

The third one was, The Miracle of the year, The Misty Eyes.‘

They could hear Nightingale Omer yelling: The miracle of the year, the one that you will never forget, the one that you will never control your tears . . . the miracle of the year I

The mother shut the door with her foot. Scolding:

We have enough tears to last for a long time. In fact, we are running out of tears. I’m worrying myself to death because of that daughter of mine. It’s been four weeks now without any news. Do you think we should call her tomorrow from the station, Turkan?

Turkan gave her an L § M cigarette. "Have a cigarette with your tea. There is nothing to worry about. If something happens, they’ll let you know. Don’t be excited. Look at Cafer for instance. He is a cool gentleman. When he surpasses Ahmet in his trade, he’ll make up for last time. You will find a different type of living. There is no one like Ahmet, honest, no one . . . Ain’t that right Cafer? You just try to learn the trade. If you keep your eyes open, you will save everybody; even Sukran and Beyhan are making a living, just being manicurists. The customers are solid over there. Ahmet is hording on both sides, God willing. His touch is very light and his hands.’ . . .

The other place is in Cadde Bostan, is it not?"

Cafer did not answer as he did not know.

So Ahmet has two shops eh? Son of a gun! He never sings! Tomorrow I’ll open my eyes wider! Tuncer also on our side. That shitty crow. Clowning.’ Let him clown.

Yıldız was begging to her mother for permission to go to the movie with next door’s Sezer, kissing, hugging her.

"My dear Mom, dear Mom . . . three pictures all at once . . .

Who is going to pay for you, girl? Don’t bother me now.’ I got enough worry. Türkan:

What worry? Let the child go.’

She can go Saturday with her brother’. Cafer: Let her go, Mom. He gave a 2 1/2 bill to Yıldız.

His mother poured fresh tea. They were sweating while drinking their tea. The roast with garlic sauce has made them very thirsty. His mother put her head between her hands, leaning on the table. She felt the bitterness of grape leaves between her teeth.

It was getting dark now. The footsteps on the sidewalk were fading away. Everybody had gone to the movie house. They were showing the coming attractions.

"We are getting sick and tired of these noises I Can’t sleep all night because of it. They don’t care if it’s day or night. Everybody will go to work early in the morning, the children have to go to bed’. They don’t care. What kind of law and order is this anyway? I can understand the exception if it was a Sunnet-circumcision ceremony on a Saturday or Sunday, but other days? If my man come tonight, he is going to open his big mouth to them again. The owner, so called, a religious man! A pilgrimage! He went twice to Mecca, once to Germany. He opened this theatre with the profit he got from those mini-buses he brought from Germany, so they say. I wish he wouldn’t. They say he is not going to return to his wife. Rumor has it that he can’t stand’ this place as a permanent residence. I’m living and taking this place alright! Why shouldn’t he? If he came from Bakirkoy, I came from Laleli! This place is progressing well now. At least