by Defne Suman
‘No, you cannot die! No, no, no! Not yet. Your voice just came out for the first time this morning. You definitely can’t die – you have so much to tell. Come on, let’s go out and celebrate the birth of your voice. Let me take you to the quay and we’ll have breakfast there, by the sea. You’ll talk; I’ll listen. I’m so hungry – are you hungry too? No, no, don’t even think about it. You can’t go up there any more. Wait here. I’ll be ready in two minutes. From now on, no more going up to the tower. Wait for me in my room.’
She led me back down the stairs to the corridor and closed the door hidden behind the wallpaper. After looking in surprise at the padlock which Hilmi Rahmi had installed on the door when he’d carried Sumbul up there, as if seeing it for the first time, she reached out and clicked the padlock shut, sealing the tower forever. Then she raced down the corridor to the bathroom in her lamb pyjamas.
I went and stretched out on my old narrow bed with the walnut headrest where, every morning after I returned from Hilmi Rahmi’s room, I used to replay over and over in my imagination every detail of our lovemaking. I buried my nose in the pillow. Ipek’s skin smelled exactly like Sumbul’s, of honeysuckle and cinnamon.
Even though the key that Hilmi Rahmi had once, with his own hands, placed around my neck still hung there, I knew I would never again go up to my tower. Silent Scheherazade might lie down in her tower to die, but I, who had regained my speech, would return to life.
The moment I took my first step into the street from the garden of the Mansion with the Tower, a burst of life flowed into the blue veins beneath my thin and wrinkled skin, like an injection from Ipek’s palm into mine. The immense sky was bright blue. Seagulls fluttered off from the roof of the mansion, shrieking, and cats yowled after them. There was music and laughter from the side streets. Arm in arm, taking tiny steps, we walked to the quay. A yellow dog with a short tail followed along behind us.
‘Everything! I want to hear everything from the beginning,’ Ipek said as we sat down.
I tried to work out where we were. The smiling waiter, who had furnished our table with tomatoes, olives and various cheeses, said that the place used to be the Tayyare Cinema, and before that it was the Cinema Pallas. In 1923, for the first time a Muslim woman had performed on stage there. The building had hung a sign in her memory and the street was named after her.
I turned and looked fearfully at the sea. It had not taken on the colour of the lives it had swallowed. The water still sparkled as blue as could be. It seemed the sun was more merciless, nervous. There was a slight whiff of coal in the air. Two laughing girls passed arm in arm in front of us. They were eating ice cream. Their skirts were well above their knees, their plaits loose. Somewhere in the distance a merry song was playing.
Ipek wasn’t interested in what the waiter was saying. She was following my gaze, looking at what I was looking at.
‘Isn’t it a magnificent city, though? There’s something in the air, in the wind, that takes away a person’s troubles, reminds you of everything beautiful in the world. Do you know what I think? You can’t kill the spirit of this city, no matter what you do. You can set it on fire, tear it down, evict all of its people and import others in their place, but that love of freedom, that vivacity will always resurface. Don’t you think?’
My eyes filled with tears.
‘Auntie dear, it would be best if you read your notebook to me, from the beginning. You could translate the Greek and French sections into Turkish. Your voice will warm up, become attuned.’
It seems that when there is an ear that wants to listen, one’s voice will find a way to speak out. As I turned to the first page of the notebook, I leaned across the table towards Ipek. The eyes inherited from Sumbul blinked their encouragement. I coughed, put on my glasses, which were hanging from a chain around my neck, and placed my finger on the first sentence.
All of a sudden, confusion descended. Like a well-trained dog waiting for his master’s whistle, the wind came out of whatever hole it had been hiding in when it heard my voice and whirled around our table. Unaware of its own strength, it rummaged through the pages of my notebook. The short skirts of the girls eating ice creams as they passed swirled in the air, and the men in the next-door coffeehouse stared at the girls’ legs over their glasses of tea. Waiters ran to catch a huge umbrella that was flying towards the sea.
With one hand gripping her wide-brimmed straw hat, Ipek looked with trepidation at the notebook. The wicked wind had already grabbed some of its faded and tattered pages and blown them away.
I waved my hand unconcernedly, took off my glasses and let them swing at the end of their chain. Inhaling the salty, seaweed-smelling air, I closed my eyes. My voice, a memento from Edith Lamarck – that deep, distinctive, bass voice – rose, independent of me, and brushed the skin of Ipek’s beautiful face.
‘My birth, on a sweet, orange-tinted evening, coincided with the arrival of Avinash Pillai in Smyrna.
‘According to the European calendar, it was the year 1905.
‘The month was September.’
The wild wind, waiting at my side, carried my voice and the stories in it to the east and to the west, to eager ears in the far corners of the earth, just as it had whisked away the pages of my notebook. Beside the familiar waterfront of my lost city, from the ashes of silent Scheherazade, like the phoenix I was reborn once again.
Glossary
(Fr.): French; (Gk): Greek; (Tur.): Turkish
aga (Tur.) landlord; man of power and/or wealth
agapi (mou) (Gk) (my) love
Agia/Agios (Gk) Saint (f./m.)
amanedes (Gk) songs of lamentation from Asia Minor
Asia Minor land mass that lies to the east of the Bosphorus and constitutes the majority of modern-day Turkey; also known as Anatolia
baglama (Tur.) stringed instrument used in folk music
Bey (Tur.) Mr
borek (Tur.) filo-pastry pie stuffed with cheese, spinach or meat
Circassia formerly independent country in the north Caucasus located in present-day European Russia
Committee of Union and Progress reformist party affiliated with the Young Turks and supporting policies of Turkification that resulted in the ethnic cleansing of the Christian population of Asia Minor
Efendi (Tur.) Sir
ela (Gk) come on
endaksi (Gk) okay
Enver Pasha a leader of the Committee of Union and Progress
evzones (Gk) Greek soldiers in the traditional uniform of white skirts and pointy-toed shoes
filenada (Gk) girlfriend
foustanella (Gk) the white skirt worn by Greek soldiers
Ghazi (Tur.) honorific title accorded to a Muslim fighter against non-Muslims
halva (Tur.) dessert made with tahini or semolina
Hanim (Tur.) Mrs
hookah see waterpipe
Izmir the Turkish name for the city of Smyrna, in universal use since 1928
Izzet Pasha Smyrna’s Turkish governor in May 1919
Kala ise? (Gk) Are you well?
kalimera (Gk) good morning
kalispera (Gk) good afternoon
kinotafio (Gk) ossuary
koliva (Gk) boiled wheat berries with spices and sugar made for the souls of the dead
kori mou (Gk) my daughter
kuluraki (Gk) Greek bagel
Kyr (Gk) Mr
Kyra (Gk) Ms or Mrs
Levantines people of European descent living in the eastern Mediterranean or Levant
lokum (Tur.) Turkish delight
mademoiselle (Fr.) miss
makari (Gk) hopefully
malaka (Gk) idiot
Mana Ellas (Gk) Mother Greece; Greece the motherland
Manoula (Gk) Mother dearest
mari! (Gk) hey you! (for women)
Megali Idea expansionist political project that aimed to create a Greater Greece by incorporating all significant Greek populations formerly living under Byzantine and later Ottoman rule
M
etropolitan Chrysostomos the Greek Orthodox metropolitan bishop of Smyrna between 1910 and 1914, and again from 1919 until his death at the hands of a lynch mob in 1922
mou (Gk) my
Mustafa Kemal Pasha military leader in Turkey’s National Struggle for Independence and subsequently the founder of the modern Turkish Republic; also known as Ataturk or Father of Turks
National Struggle for Independence Turkish War of Independence fought against the army of the Ottoman Empire and subsequently also against French, Italian and Greek troops following the 1918 Treaty of Sèvres; the longest of the battles is known as Greco-Turkish War of 1919–1922
Nizam-i Djedid Army reformed and professionalized army of the Ottoman sultanate
Nureddin Pasha Turkish Governor of Smyrna from 1922
ohi (Gk) no
okka (Tur.) Ottoman measurement equivalent to about 1.2 kilogrammes
oriste (Gk) please; welcome
palikaria (Gk) young men
Panagia (Gk) Mary, Mother of God; Maria, Mother of Jesus Christ
parasang (Tur.) the distance travelled in one hour, equivalent to about six kilometres
pasha (Tur.) title given to a high-ranking Turkish officer
raki (Tur.) sweetened alcoholic drink, often anise flavoured
se/sas parakalo (Gk) please
signomi (Gk) I’m sorry; excuse me
Stergiadis Greek high commissioner of Smyrna from 1919 to 1922
subye (Tur.) beverage made with crushed almonds and/or melon seeds
Thee mou (Gk) my God
Theo(s) (Gk) God
Treaty of Sèvres 1920 treaty following the First World War in which many territories of the defeated Ottoman Empire not inhabited by Turkish people were ceded to and occupied or administered by the Allies
Turkos (Gk) Turkish man
Unionists see Committee of Union and Progress
Usta (Tur.) Master
Venizelos prime minister of Greece from 1910 to 1920 and 1928 to 1933; supporter of Megali Idea policies
vevea (Gk) of course
vre (Gk) you, bro
waterpipe (also, hookah) tobacco pipe with a flexible tube that draws the smoke through water contained in a basin
yahni (Tur.) stew of meat, fish or vegetables made with onions, tomatoes and olive oil
yavri mou (Gk) my child
About the Author
DEFNE SUMAN was born in Istanbul and grew up on Prinkipo Island. She holds a Masters in Sociology from the Bosphorus University, later working as a teacher in Thailand and Laos where she studied Far Eastern philosophy and mystic disciplines. She continued her studies in Oregon, USA and now lives in Athens with her husband. The Silence of Scheherazade was first published in Turkey and Greece in 2016 and is her English language debut.
BETSY GÖKSEL is an American teacher and translator who has lived in Turkey since the 1960s. Her translations include The Hate Trap by Haluk Şahin as well as several books on art and architecture for the Istanbul Municipality.
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