Rootless, Orphans and Blisters – Becoming a Teacher at SEBAHATTİN KARACA –

“My father and I worked hard to make a living. I am twelve and my father is over thirty. I was born in bad times. I was born in Foucault, just in the middle of the war, where land and sea entry and exit were prohibited, trade ports were closed and the economy collapsed and its people became impoverished. “

“My father, Hussein, who lives on Lemnos Island and is an orphan, came to Foucault as a child, with the help of Captain Suleiman, with whom he worked on the island and went fishing. The captain and my father went fishing together.

“Come and go, when my father was a young man from adolescence, Suleiman the Magnificent married his daughter Maqsood to my father.”

“When poverty and famine are on the knees, it is not easy to establish a family in a poor environment where those who have a donkey at their door are considered rich, everything is a mattress, a duvet, two pillows, a mattress, three pots. , Five spoons, nailed to a wire cabinet wall, a pot. It starts with two pans and comes back slowly. My father and Mao made their home in this situation.

“As is commonly known, I was born exactly one year after the marriage. My mother always said that my father celebrated my birthday. “

“The humiliation of growing up alone; While living with the thought that the long burdens of the road would be heavy, I realized the joy of being a baby boy for my father when I was 8-9 years old, when the donkey’s bridle, the handle. The shovel and the net of the boat got stuck in my hand. “

“A few years after I was born, I had a brother named Tahir. This time not only my father, I was also very happy. Now I also had a brother. Besides, I was the big brother in the house. “

“Because I was born to work, I never knew what work was.”

“The stone building where the District Department of National Education now stands is the only school in Foca where all the students went. I went to this school with my peers. Aunt Fatma, who was our neighbor and worked at our school, loved me very much. The students enter through the back door. I would go through the back door in the morning. However, after school, Aunt Fatma would let me out through the front door. Because my father’s boat was in front of the school. I would throw myself into a boat on the chest of my school, cloth bags with books and notebooks on my shoulders, rows upon rows of British noses, nets as my father had shown me many times before, and flocks of sheep. , Lambs, cows and calves from there when I tied the boat to the shore. My father also kept sacrificial animals. I used to do my housework while raising animals. I was a hardworking student. I succeed ”

“We used to go to the field with my parents in the summer for tobacco and olives. Now no one goes to pick olives one by one, but in those years we used to collect olives one by one. In other words, we will give the owner of the collected olives to the owner and buy one for ourselves. We would take our only donkey to the market and take the olive sacks to the Niazi Chelebi factory. ”

“In all the bays of Mersinaki, the Greeks had nothing but a few tower houses. But figs were everywhere. The branches of the tree were bent from abundance. We collected a lot of balls, and when we got tired, we slept in its shade. It tastes like sleeping in the shade of a fig tree. We wanted to sell the figs we had collected, but we couldn’t find anyone to buy them. We used to distribute it among our neighbors. We would cover it with a thin cloth and dry the rest to prevent birds from scattering in the open. In the winter, grocer Adnan Alpsoy would give our dried figs an evening dress and we would buy tea and sugar instead. ”

One day, I had two red plums in my eyes
Last year, a friend of mine, Nazimla Nihat, Denar and I passed the Teacher School Exam. Speaking of their registration, my father opposed me to study and become a teacher because I had to move out of Foca. Neither my mother, nor my grandfather, nor our neighbors have been able to dissuade my father from his ideas. I couldn’t sleep at night, I used to walk around like a sofa during the day. I thought of Uncle Tahir, I could tell him my problem. Behind the Foca restaurant was the private office of our mayor, Tahir Mustekapliolu. The President was a close friend of my father. My dad wouldn’t break it. Early the next day I knocked on Uncle Tahir’s door. Let me in I told him he heard.

“Go call your father,” he said.
I ran to the coffee shop. “Father! Uncle Tahir is calling you,” I said.
He muttered, “What will he do to me?” Says
After a while he entered the office. Tahir sat in front of his uncle. The door was open. Frightened, I leaned against the door and listened to their conversation. My heart was not in the right place. I was trembling with excitement.
Uncle Tahir said, “Well! Hussein Effendi, we are making Erdogan a teacher (from the heart), aren’t we? Says

My father stood up; “Are you on his side, President? There is no way, forget it, “he said, and continued.” I grew up alone. I had no one with me. I suffered a lot. Let’s talk about his work. “It simply came to our notice then. Took a nap

At that moment, it felt like my knees were loose. I could not stand on my own two feet. I started crying. My eyes filled with tears. I ran along the sidewalk and backyard so no one could see. I cried all day. My crying continued till night. My Mao was upset about the situation, but he didn’t have much to do. When I woke up in the morning, my eyes were red and swollen like red plums.

Thus a few days passed. On the morning of the third day we went out to pick up the nets together. Reaching the middle of the harbor, he stopped rowing.

“Look at me, boy, I know you’re upset not to send you to Teachers College. You know, I’m sorry too. But I grew up without mom, dad, brother. World War I uprooted me; The land from which I was born has taken the exchange. Now my heart could not bear to be separated from my child and his longing. Try to understand it. You, me, your mother, your brother are a family. In these countries where we have just settled down and built a house, we can only work together and maintain our unity. Let us own this land, this sea, ”he said. Listening to my father, I had no choice but to follow in his footsteps. I was not fair.

Everything went exactly as my father wanted. He called me one day while he was lying in his sick bed and dying. He told me to kneel down. He told everyone in the room to go out.

He came back and asked me for halal and added. “You’re right, my son. It was a big mistake not to send you to school. The years have taught me so much that I am still in pain. I am in the last days of my life and I want to get rid of this pain today, let it be halal for you in the end, “he said.

He thanked me with a sweet smile for my loyalty to what he said at sea that day. After a while, the father could not hold on to life. I covered her sad and open eyes with my hands. We said goodbye to eternity on the same day.

I am eighty-three years old this year. And whenever I see a teacher beside his students at a festival or an occasion, I feel sad and miserable; I gently take a sweet “ah”, shake my head slightly, and I’ll pass.

Foca 15.03.2022
Sebahattin Karaka
[email protected]

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