Stories Of MemoryIn Balikesir City Uncle Ece And Little Can

Written By: Can AKIN

PART  II Soldiers Who Died In Canakkale

                  We used to live in the houses provided by the government near the blocks of heavy industry with my family. The blocks of heavy industry were four kilometres from my school outside of Balikesir. Because my father was a government officer; we were poor. Along my primary education my school uniform and stationary were assured by the unity of school and family. When I was at the age of seven I had to go to school by myself. In the evenings I used to wind the clock and get up early in the mornings. In summers the way of school was bright, however when fall and winter came the way of school was very dark and I was frightened of this long walking very much.

                  Everywhere was silent and as if dark shadows seemed walking in front of me. It also seemed something would come and take me away. I used to walk of a run.

      I spend a merry time at the part of school way which takes two kilometres from home. Firstly iron workers whom I named 'Hairy Squashes' of the factory, later on the Slauster House of Balikesir and Mending Factory of Military. The  best memories of my child hood which was full harshness took place in this road. At the beginning I met with the hairy squashes who held up their hands and made me frightened by saying 'booo!' as a lion. I used to be very frightened at every time. I named them'hairy squashes because they were dark black and made me frightened.

       Every morning after they had lighted the big oven and made it pretty red-hot, they took away the long iron sticks away from the oven and changed them into building irons which they're 10 metres long. While they're performing this operation all of their body turned to black and their colour influenced me magicly, so when I saw them I was triying to run away.

At every time they asked me a maths problem. because of my appearance I reminded them an indian boy. They named me 'White Eagle' One of them used to hold me and asked:.                 'Tell me White Eagle, how much does it coast five eggs, five ones coast five kurush?                  After he had put 'opposite 'V' on both sides of my nose and said:                 'Go to your school now, hurry up, solve this problem urg learn and come back'                  He used to put the paper which they've already prepared the maths question in my pocket and let me free.                 When I was at third class one of them told me that they have prepared problems for me for years. I was effected very deeply and felt indepted to them because of their interest and triying to teach some thing to me. After I had gone to school with the black of smoke and lined marks on my face, I tried to clean my face with my teacher's paper handkerchiefs. I was angry with hairy squashes and thought when will they ask me an easy question whom I'm able to solve. My teacher used to laugh at me every time:

               'Couldn't you solve the problem Can? come let's solve it together'said

After I had passed over the Slaughter House of Balikesir  I came closer to the Military Zone. When the soldiers on duty saw me they started shouting:'Hey! Can what will you learn to day? ' They used to wait for me by holding the wires. Voices got louder with the question. Soldier Sehmuz from Diyarbakır city; 'Canooo what time did you get up tell me? ' Older brother Haydar from Tokat city feeled like criying:'My children have already got up, they're on the school way now.'Soldier Temel from Of city  has just interruped and gave him consolation with his own stlye:'Why do you like feel crying, shout up you'll make me cry also:'

  I feeled myself one of them, suddenly became cheerful and forgot about everything at home. I think it is easy enough to be happy in childhood. There was nobody in their lives except me whom I was the only voyager of this silent road. I was closed to them as much as their families., Even much more closed. Our friendship and love which we used to try living have been along the two kilomtres of woven wire; however it was much more valu-able than the the love to be given in a life or protected love. Neither they nor I expected more except sharing the time and the love.

In my school bag there has been a story book which it was full of the pictures of big animals. The soldiers used to take this book and tried to read. After I had started school I  l learned reading and writing in a short period of time. My teacher called me and said:

                 'Can my son, you were the first student who learned reading and writing,  and put a red ribbon on the collar of my school uniform. In addition my teacher has presented me ten coloured story  books. My favorite book was 'Canakkale Isn't  Passed Through'I used to take this book everywhere with me and read in my free time. Soldiers used to want me to go near them and to read one of the story books for them. Sometimes I have been thinking the soldiers whom they 've already known reading and writing. I beleive that they've acted as if they didn't know reading and writing. Now I understand that iron workers and soldiers who carried  my school bag and made jokes with me have loved me very much…

                 In winters when it snowed, I got very cold on the school way. I used to wear a  small coat which it's ripper has never closed. Nylon slippers and woolen socks on my feet. I tried to walk. My teacher used to came to school early. She met me and took my school bag sat me by the the fire which has been lighted before by  Kadriye the teacher. She took off my wet socks and left them to get dry over the stone… After I had taken a rest, I helped my teacher to arrange the class room and put te desks in order, Later on while we were drinking tea she helped me to solve the problem of hairy squashes.

               

My mother didn't use to get ready the breakfast for me in the mornings and never saw me off to school. I got up, dressed and went to school by myself. After the second lesson I Started feeling hungry. My father never gave me pocket money. along my school years. I had to walk to school every morning. School way which takes four kilometres, seemed me four hundred kilometres with my teeny feet. I couldn't want the money of simit from my father who never gave met the price of school bus. As soon as the bell rang I ran to the simit seller man and helped him to sell his simits in order to buy the oldest simit. After the simit seller had left I went to the toılet, wetted my dry simit and ate it with  the tears. At every time I remembered sayings of Uncle Ece:

                  'Children, do not throw away the smallest piece of bread, you can eat dried breads by wetting I saw many hungry men in Africa. We buy a lot of bread and throw away to the garbage. If we don't be economical one day we'll need every bit of  bread which we threw away.'

                  I had the hot memories of the old days in my heart as a grain of a pearl. Although I had the pain and beatings whom I've never known the reason at my young age; I was loved and beloved by the of the other people. That day I  left the house for school  early in the morning.

                  I walked to the factory of iron works. I had to pass over hairy squashes, I saw nobody around.

  How could I pass through the zone of the Slaughter House without them? Fifteen, twenty dogs have been living near the Slaughter House of Balikesir for a long time. After I had passed over iron workers hairy squashes with my words, a running soldier came, held my hand and helped met to pass through the dogs which they share the waste meat of the Slaughter House. If I  was all alone in the road I would thrown the stones which I  have  already filled in my pocket. While I was watchind the dogs I heard the voice‘ Booo' and a hand held me up asked the daily question of maths. Their question was always too diffucult to solve for me and I could never find the answer. After they had used to put the paper which the question was written on it, drew indian symbols on both sides of my face with their fingers one of them with a thick voice:              ' Go andsolve the problen , learn and come back.' And let me free. When I arrived at the Military Zone soldiers took me to the end of the wowen wire with cheerfully When I arrived at school I saw my teacher and asked her If I would leve the class early that or not that day. 'I promised to read the story book to the soldiers ' When my teacher said she would let us go early. There has been the meeting of teachers. I bacame very happy because I had a luck to read my book 'Canakkale Isn't Passed Through ' to the soldiers. I promised myself  to learn and teach not only myself but also the other men in this world. My teacher had met o leave my bag at school. and took it from me. I told nothing her and never imagined what I will live at home. When I arrived at the Military Zone soldiers were playing a game in the field. They were all exciting and became happy  when they saw me all of us sat on the ground  and I opened my coloured book and started reading. The story of 'Turkish Soldier Who Carried an Enemy Soldier on His Back and Saved His Life'.After I had read the story book I read my poem which I wrote after I had written the book.

Soldiers Who Died In Canakkale

The ones who came from a lost pastGo to an unknown futureWith love  in their heartsSoldiers who died for motherland.

Because they're born for death Who watered the land with their bloodTheir names have been forgottenHey, unnamed heros.

With every one of youA piece of motherland becames freeIndepence is our Destinity, our fate…

When you die for motherlandWe'll live all alive foreverDestinity is written once moreIn the hands of motherland's sons such as you…

Poem: Can AKIN

               While the soldiers were listening to the lines, their faces looked unhappy. After I had finished my poem they all claped me loudly. I was very excited and honored myself. Suddenly I felt happy, I was'nt all alone in the world. I used to establish relationship with my poem and good intention. When I grew up I would have thousands of real comrades. They would tell me and my story to their children and grand children. Because they all have cried and laughed with me together, they have accepted me their child. during my voyages both home and abroad I have met my real comrades and their children or they have found me. After the soldiers had finished their military duty they told their memories to their families friends and social enviroment. I was a part of these memories also. When they remember my poem'Canakkale Isn't Passed Through' they will think of our real friendship and me.

Can AKIN

ŞAİR VE FOTOĞRAF SANATÇISI

mr_canakin@yahoo.co.uk

mr_canakin@hotmail.com

     TürkçeBalıkesir'de Gazi Ece Amca Ve Ben - Öykü Kitabı - Yazar: Can AKINhttp://www.turklider.org/TR/EditModule.aspx?tabid=1038&mid=8373&ItemID=3066&ItemIndex=101

     

EnglishStories Of Memory - In Balikesir City Uncle Ece And Little Can - Written By: Can AKIN - Translated By: Nilufer DURSUNhttp://www.turklider.org/TR/EditModule.aspx?tabid=1038&mid=8373&ItemID=8866

     EspanyolBalikesir Ciudad, Su Héroe Ece Amca Y Yo - Can AKIN - Traducción: Zulma LUJANhttp://www.turklider.org/TR/EditModule.aspx?tabid=1038&mid=8373&ItemID=4900&ItemIndex=60