We are in Meshad-e Hudavendigar, Kosovo. The camera says recording, we are talking about Sultan Murad Khan. Despite her nineties, a strong pilgrim mother with slightly slanted eyes and a bright face listens to our stories while we are filming. When our work is done, I come to her, we say hello, she is very sorry. The grave of Murad Khan from Bukhara was Khala Saniye. His family has been performing this blessed duty for centuries, their title being Turvedar. As I go, I want to pray for this beautiful mother, she says:
My son, I always pray to you, I have three prayers, whenever I open my hand I say: My God, protect the Quran, my God, protect the faith, save my God, Turkey!
Love for Turkey from faith! This sound on my lips, pain in my heart, moisture in my eyes. Greetings to Abu Bakr Qurban.
We’re in Skopje, shooting our one-day show in the market. While we were taking a break, one of Fatih’s sons, whom we would later learn at age 75, came to me, like a pocket knife, Uncle Neriman. He asks in a dialect unique to this region: Aren’t you him? Let’s take a picture! We took pictures together, offered tea after work, Uncle Neriman, we chatted. What I say is news, he says in such a way that he has been waiting for this question for years with love, sorrow, tears. His last words: Turkey is strong, we are strong!
Turkey does not consist of 780 thousand square kilometers. The country where we sing our song is ours, and the land where our Turkey sings is ours! He has mercy on Ismail Karakaya Hodja.
We are in Tajikistan, we are done in Dushanbe, we are going to Uzbekistan. We come to the border across rough roads, poverty, old cars, sunburned faces. With suitcases in hand, we left the Tajik border, we walked to the entrance to Uzbekistan. A map game was played at the end of the Ottoman Empire, and here they divided a country into three parts! Humility has an English, a Muscovite. A commander watching us intently at the entrance to Uzbekistan, I ask God not to cause any trouble. He came to me, looked carefully at my face behind the mask, his eyes suddenly became bright, he greeted us with a familiar greeting: Greetings Alekum Sadhu! I smile, I wonder, I admire, our mimemakers come here too. We chat, he leaves his troops and takes my hand, we move a little farther, obviously he will say something. It hits my arm, or it doesn’t, it grabs my arm, looks at my face, tears down my cheeks … They can swallow and say: Embrace faith, Turkey is the last base, take care of it!
Not just 63 million in Turkey! We are hugging the commander, tears are flowing from his cheeks to my heart, my knees are not able to carry on my shoulders.
I am explaining these three things somewhere, I have a friend with me, Fatih Buhara. The brother said I had an incident in Jerusalem. A family hosted us, they have a 10 year old child, he always sat next to me during dinner and conversation, he looked at me so deeply, I do not understand. His father explained so that I would not be upset: Sorry, our son likes Turks very much, this is the first time he sees Turks very closely, so he looks carefully. I said thank you, I was a little interested. His father continues to explain: The boy did not sleep on the night of July 15, we as a family watch television, Erdogan called the people on the street, we saw it at two in the morning, the matter was settled, we went to bed. The boy is holding the remote in his hand, we said ok, my son, Turkey is safe, you sleep too. He said he would not come. When he woke up in the morning with the remote in his hand still in front of the television, his eyes were bloody. I sat down next to him and said: Look, my son, Tayyip Erdogan called the Turks on the street, they took care of it, why are you upset, relax. He told me: Dad, I know, but Erdogan called the Turks.
This brave Palestinian was only eight years old when he said these words. Turkey is not just a hundred year old sapling, and the maps of the heartland are not painted with such desk deals!
I am not writing this out of enmity, but to inflate your chest; I don’t write at all so you can say wow what we are. I am writing this so that we can be more aware of the burden on our shoulders, the meaning of our country, Turkey is not just a country and it is consistent with ideas, prayers and hopes. Is it enough to notice? Not enough! He must do something!
No matter what we do, we will do it. The teacher will raise the student with this consciousness, the doctor will treat his patient with this compassion, the student will go to school with this understanding, the mother will take care of this problem of her child, the garbage will sweep the road with this understanding. The deputy will go to Parliament for this purpose, the bureaucrat will know that he is bound by quality for this reason, the judge will deal with this ordeal with justice, he will establish it, and he will do what he is doing. It is completely, high quality, perfectly, for the pleasure of Allah and for the pleasure of Allah!
When we go in the opposite direction, not only the bones of our ancestors hurt, not only the future of our children is ruined, not only our hereafter is ruined; It will be a mother’s prayer in Kosovo, a heroic position in Skopje, the confidence of a soldier in Turkey, the hope of a child in Palestine, a proposal and a demand that is desperately needed by the whole world!
We do not have this right!