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Erdal ATES


I used to see Ihsan walking around the base in the morning. He was a tall, blonde, lame boy. Her legs were slipping badly. With each step, one hand always moves to his knees. He was a few years older than me. Their home was a little below where the transformer was. Their father died. The elders of the neighborhood kept talking about their mother. They said he was with the soldiers. They were a strange family. They rarely talked to anyone. Ihsan will not join the children of our neighborhood. He was always alone. According to neighborhood commentators, he entered the military zone one day. He was playing wood. The guard said, “Stop!” Says we don’t stop.

Smitten is paralyzed because of this. This lame boy used to come to the entrance of the base every morning and take the garbage from the gray garbage cabin to the small cabin where the police were standing. The baby was identified by American and Turkish personnel at the base. When he arrived, garbage was distributed in large sage paper bags. Ehsan excitedly grabbed the bags and headed for his house. But fifty meters later he was sitting on the grass on the right side of the road, scattering bags and picking them up. He arranged the things that were suitable for him, packed them in the bag and left them in the other place where he left them. I did not talk to Ihsan. One morning I came out of the garden and saw him under the fence across the street. Next to him are four large bags. I went to him. He saw me. Got annoyed. He shot me in the eye. I did not pay attention. He put something in his mouth. He was picking something up again. She sprinkled a new bag next to him. Rice pilaf spreads from sealed paper boxes. He attacked the rice with a plastic spoon as if from a famine. Eaten like crazy. I’m bored. He filled a bag with white plastic forks, spoons, knives, coke cans and many trinkets. I never went to Ihsan again. I watched him from a distance. The food that came out of that garbage never left my mind.

On weekends, I would hang out with my friends. The wooden hut of the taxi rank just opposite the entrance gate of the air base was one of our entertainments. We knew all the taxi drivers at this stop. We liked the old man who was driving Austin the best. He loved our kids too. Sometimes – when there is an entertainment or sporting event upstairs – the Americans come out in groups. Taxis were not enough. In the cabin where the taxi drivers were resting, we children would sit and talk with the Americans waiting for the taxi. Some of them knew very little Turkish. But I have not seen an American who speaks fluent Turkish. Maybe they didn’t need to learn Turkish.

An elderly Turkish man takes a package from Americans who have shopped from the base; He always brings me to the door, to the taxi stand. Sometimes in his lap, sometimes with a grocery car. He was the opposite man. He was wearing a gray apron. He would come first and put things in the back trunk of the next taxi. He used to move fast. Then the owner of the shopping package would give this guy a fair tip. All the kids will try to see that tip. Some will whisper to themselves: “He paid ten dollars!” Another said, “The poor old man got the money again!” He would say that this old man would cry whenever he saw us around the taxi. Sometimes he would get upset if he saw a kid helping an American with a bag. She was screaming. He was a thin old man. No one even greeted him as he walked through the neighborhood.

Rich bitches

One fell, the young women began to appear at the gate of the air base. They were waiting at the entrance of the base. Some even had cars. Our older brothers in the neighborhood called these women “rich prostitutes.” These young women were not like the women in our neighborhood. They were well-groomed and fragrant. Their conversation was also very kind. They spoke English. Most of them lived in Kanka. American flirtatious women meet these women in discos or bars around Kankai. They were friends. Most of these women are college graduates. The Americans found them very interesting and appealing. Everyone dreamed of marrying an American and making a cover in America. I loved these women. Someone was hitting me on the cheek. I like it. Some will ask: “Do you know John? Soldier. He has a brown book. “Some Americans from the base were waiting at the door with their friends, either in their own car or in a taxi.

One afternoon there was no one at the taxi booth. There was a baseball game. Those who got out jumped into the taxi. I was sitting in the cabin with my four friends. At this time five women came. The two of us used to meet occasionally. One of those who waits for their American sweetheart. We first met three other women. They were wearing indecent clothing. They were talking nonsense. They were waiting for their American friends to leave the base. Someone was looking at his watch. They start chatting with us. They were smoking. We wanted too. They gave. One was wearing a short denim skirt. Spread two legs on the wooden sofa. From the side, the fur was visible there. My other friends have seen it too. They looked and smiled without fail. After a long time, four big people came. The women jumped at the sight of the Americans. They get involved. Then came one taxi after another. They got up. They took three taxis. The taxi driver pointed at the women and asked, “Which leg?” They looked at it. We didn’t tell them anything.

A woman

One morning I went for a walk in the back yard of the taxi stand. A young woman descended from Anadol, a short distance from the hut. He walked towards me without any hesitation. I knew this woman. Occasionally waiting for his American friend at the door. He was a pale-faced, tall, slender, tall man. He had slender and long fingers. Her nails were cherry-cut.

“Look at me,” said the woman.
I saw. I laughed.
“Would you like a cigarette?” Says

He pulled a Marlboro out of his bag. She looked at the man sitting behind the wheel of the car. The man was looking at something in front of him.

“My father,” he said in a frightened voice. I did not answer. “Take this cigarette. Don’t let my dad catch you. “I bought it. I put it in my pocket. It was a great honor to smoke at that time. A pack of Marlboro, some will work one day. The woman stared at the entrance.” If my dad asks you anything, don’t say anything. ” “What if she asks?” I didn’t say. She answered quickly as if I had asked. Then the woman’s words ‘No, you say’ came to my ears.

The man and his daughter talked for a while in front of the car. The woman looks like a criminal. Then the woman sat in the back seat of the car. The man went to the base of the base with a piece of paper in his hand. He began talking to the American Guard. Then Becky from our neighborhood came to me. This boy was older than me. Was one of the quarrelsome devils. He saw me talking to the woman. “What’s up?” Said I told him everything. He asked me for a pack of cigarettes. I did not say “.

“I’ll tell you your father,” he threatened me.

I gave. Seeing the package, my eyes widened. Neil. He pulled a branch from the package. He looked at the woman in the car. “Whore,” Becky said to herself.

He looked me in the eye and said, “He won’t give it to us?”

I was silent for a while. “Doesn’t it pay?”

“Dog fucks Americans. Look, his dad learned, he’s here.”

Becky looked at me, I have no work, she dragged me to the car. The woman opened the car door. Talked to Becky for a while. I could tell by the gesture of his hand that his father was by the woman’s side and that Becky wanted him to leave immediately. He was begging. Unemployed. The woman handed the money to Becker. Becky took the money. Then slowly take the right-left road.

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