Grandma Urmiza Cooked it so Tasty

We arrived in Canakkale at dusk, while the sun was tirelessly touching the Aegean. Both sides were war-weary. There were a couple of ships. Gulcemal anchored some distance away. Supervision, correspondence...

I saw Payitaht Istanbul from afar as if we hid it behind a light fog. Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, and beyond; the silhouettes of some warships interspersed here and there? It reflected Haydarpaşa station in the eyes like a blackout. When the Gulcemal ferry arrived in front of Sarayburnu, our hearts stirred. Of course, it would be, from one end of the world, the whole.

It was an exceptional event to say hello to Istanbul from a place where hopes were lost. Returning to the homeland was like reaching for a burning lover.

Selimiye Barracks I still couldn't believe my eyes. Was I in a dream, was I dreaming? It was a resurrection. In Indochina, we believed everything was over now. We even dreamed that we could go back.

Hello to Istanbul, it was an irrational event for us. When I landed at Galata Pier, I still felt empty. I look to the right and left. Istanbul was tired like me. Because he obeyed the occupation of Istanbul.

On the one hand, the paddle steamer took us from the Galata Pier and brought us to Haydarpasha. From there, we came to Selimiye Barracks, tired and with an infantry march. We were guests. The historical Selimiye Barracks was so cold to us because there were British people everywhere. The barracks were occupied. British officers, and soldiers, some Indian men? The British commander was involved in everything here. It was as if a second bondage had begun for us in these barracks. We had a drink every day. A British officer sitting at the desk called us one by one, looked at his tag and wrote something in the big notebook in front of him. Then he started asking questions. At the end of these operations, the Thracian and Balkan soldiers separated those coming from Anatolia.

No one could make sense of this situation. This is how we did it that night.

It's been a week since I've been here. Even going out into the garden of the barracks was an issue for us. Here we were captured in another way. I spent my days watching Istanbul, Topkapı Palace, and the deep blue sea from the window of the barracks.

Anatolian news, those whispers? Mustafa Kemal Pasha was doing good things in Anatolia and Ankara. But what were the good things done? Because it was all just whispers.

Ah, it happened somehow; Fifteen days later, I found myself in front of a British officer. It was a small room in the barracks with two sergeants to the right and left of the officer. He wanted my tag. They spoke to each other in English. As far as I could tell, they were talking about me. The officer filled the paper in front of him and then looked at me.

We release you, he said, and after these words;

We let go, but after you leave here, you will go to your right hometown! If you try to go anywhere else, we will arrest you and put you in jail. Take that paper and show it to anyone who asks. From here, straight to Sirkeci Station…

Was this another adventure or another dream for me? I had just left Selimiye Barracks, but I was experiencing another bitterness. My bitterness suppressed my joy. My nearly five years of captivity were over, and now I have another strange situation. Because they forbid me to stay in Istanbul. However, I loved Istanbul very much. I wanted to stay and work here for some money.

After that, I would return to my village. How many times had they turned me around that day?

These places were not foreign to me. I shot up from Tahtakale, walking slowly through narrow and winding streets among ornate wooden houses, and found my relatives’ house in Sueleymaniye. I stayed with them for a few days. I used to go out from time to time and breathe a bit of Istanbul air.

It was a sunny and cool day. I set out to go to my other relatives in Aksaray. Just when I reached the main street, one British soldier and the other Hindu blocked me. They inquired. From here we came to the nearest police station together and on foot. They checked my papers at the police station, and they transferred me from there to another place.

A quick investigation at the place I was sent to… Later, I found myself at Sirkeci Station with two British police officers with me. I still couldn’t understand what was going on, since the police asked me for money.

I gave it, the one who took the money left and soon came back. He had a train ticket in his hand. He gave me the ticket. Together, we took the train to Europe. He moved soon after. The cops who came with me got off at the first stop and left me alone. God, what was going on?

The next morning, I found myself at Edirne Station. Faced with this situation, it was not possible for me to return to Istanbul again. I don’t know, why did the English find me dangerous? While all my dreams of Istanbul were being destroyed one by one, a new Balkan dream was beginning for me. The troubled years and days of captivity were long gone. But my story doesn’t seem to end.

Return to the Balkans Kosovo, Prizren and Globočica / Selo… Years later, Emin’s return to the village was met with surprise. Those who knew him were stunned. His family and relatives could not believe their eyes.

Years ago, news came to the village that they had martyred Emin in the Battle of Gallipoli. Faced with this situation, the elders of the village,

Miracle, miracle, they were saying. There were also some conflicts and fights in the Balkans. Serbian gangs, Bulgarian komitacı, perpetrated atrocities in Globočica. The village was poor. Emin’s dream of Istanbul was still going on. And it was gaining momentum.

April 1924, Hey Traveler Where? As soon as the snow rose from the ground, the first summer would show itself immediately, and this time it was. The biting wind that blew from Sarbalkan (mountain Shar) all winter had changed, too; its warm breeze was blowing caressing souls and faces. They spent the winter days and nights thinking about that moment all the time. Maybe that’s why it seemed so long between the first snow and the last snow. Time really stopped. During the winter, they did not hear their voices and breaths. Did they tell little in their memories of that uneasy night where the daylight seemed to last for years? As they waited for the sun to shine in the basement of the two-story house with stone walls, a balcony on the front, a garden on both sides, overlooking the small and green plain below, on the hillside of the village, their hearts were moving and their souls were just as excited was lame. Anxiety, mixed emotions, some ebbs and flows, and standing time. This house and room where they were born and raised, the place where they laughed and had fun, were breathing as if they were living a nightmare here. Because they were in the sadness of an unwanted separation and separation. There was a long road ahead of them, unknown and misty. It’s a tough, complex, and bumpy road.

They were like blackouts in the room, by the window. We plunged them into a deep silence. Their thoughts were turned upside down, their souls and bodies were crushed. They were waiting for the day to dawn. Even when the sun gets a little bright.

Goodbye! they would say to those who remained, and those who remained

Goodbye! they would wave at them.

The village of Globočica was still asleep. However, the expected tank was about to be dismantled. Just below the village, from around Lepche, the first rooster sound was coming. The horizon line also appeared. It was dawning, but reluctantly.

They took their loads with them. They were in a spiral of uneasy and complex emotions. A senseless, repulsive and attractive force had left them in front of their house. In the twilight light of dawn, they walked with their relatives. They were in such a difficult situation that after all; they were experiencing separation and separation. The wetness of the grass, of a morning evaporating and condensing.

They had come a long way in the coolness of it. They could come as far as the Old Fountain. The sun was just about to come out after a dusty pink painting.

Sadness. Mental states, heartbeats, feelings that are hard to describe?

Because for them, the bells of departure were already ringing. Those who stay and those who go? Those old days and memories? It was as if time had stopped for them. Cramped hearts, moist eyes? Her brother (Serifovic) looked at her sister, stretched out her hand, then hugged and cherished her. They hugged each other again and again. What was going on, was the world spinning? What was going on? His brother is sad with a tone of voice;

Srecan va put! (have a pleasant trip) Then with the same feelings and the same tone of voice,

Dovidjeva! (See you) said.

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• The original was previously published in Turkish here