Without a Country

by Kulin, Ayse

  “I don’t understand,” Enver said. “Are you German?”

  “My father was born Turkish,” Sude said. “And my mother’s heart beats for my father and for Turkey. I guess that makes her a Turk. Let’s say she’s a Turk transplanted from Germany.”

  “Oh. How did that happen?”

  Suzi said, “In 1933, my father was one of the first foreign professors invited to teach at Istanbul University. It was a personal invitation from Atatürk, no less. We ended up staying in Turkey. That’s the short answer.”

  “So Sude is half German, then?”

  “That depends on how you look at it, Enver,” Suzi said. “She’s Turkish on her father’s side. I’d say she’s pretty much Turkish on my side, too. I’ll tell you what, let’s say she’s 80 percent Turkish. It’s only fair for my parents to contribute a little bit of Germanness!”

  Enver threw his head back and laughed. “My father will be thrilled when I tell him. He loves Germans. He’s always going on about how disciplined and hardworking the Germans are. He even admires Hitler.”

  Suzi set down her glass and looked at Sude, who had gone white. Enver immediately realized he’d put his foot in his mouth. Sude’s parents were lefties! Why had he been so stupid?

  “Was Hirsch’s wife Turkish?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “Both of Enver’s parents are German. They chose to become Turkish.” Suzi had put her hands in her lap, but she couldn’t hide the quaver in her voice.

  “Why did they do that?”

  “The German professors who came to Turkey in 1933 were all fleeing Hitler’s oppression. There were hundreds of them. Some became Turkish citizens, like us, and others eventually went back to Germany after the war. Many of them are buried in cemeteries here in Istanbul and in Ankara.”

  A cloud passed over Enver’s face.

  “Does this mean you’re Christian?” he asked.

  “No. We’re not.”

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Suzi decided to explain. “I’m Jewish. And I grew up respecting people of all faiths.”

  “You said you were Turkish!” Enver protested. “If you’re Turkish, you have to be Muslim.”

  “You’re confusing two very different things, nationality and religion. I know a lot of native-born Turks who aren’t Muslim.” When Sude kicked Suzi under the table, she turned to her daughter and continued. “Hey! You know Simon and Selin, and our friend Madame was—”

  “That’s enough, Mother,” Sude said in German. “You made your point!”

  The wine had gone warm and the food had gone cold. Feeble attempts at further conversation faltered and died. Nobody felt like having dessert.

  As they waited for the coffee, Suzi said, “Thank you for inviting us, Enver. I still feel as if there’s so much I don’t know about you, though. You haven’t told us a thing about your family.”

  “We’re from central Anatolia. But I grew up in Istanbul.”

  Suzi finished her coffee, and Enver asked for the check. Sude didn’t say a word.

  On the way home, they all agreed that it was a warm summer evening and that rain was unlikely for the rest of the week.

  Enver didn’t walk Suzi and Sude to the front door, but he did wait in his car until they were in the building. In the elevator, Suzi put her hand on Sude’s shoulder and said, “I’d suggest you tell your grandmother as little as possible about this evening.”

  Sude nodded.

  Bedia Hanım pounced as soon as they stepped into the entry hall.

  “So, tell me all about it. Suzi, what did you think of the bridegroom?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t think much of him. You know what the children of the newly rich are like. He’s a bit of an empty suit, I’m afraid.”

  “Sude, don’t listen to your crazy mother,” Bedia Hanım said. “Where did you go? What did you have for dinner?”

  “Grandma, I’ve got a headache from the wine. I need to go to bed. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

  A less extravagant bouquet arrived the following morning. This time, it came with a sealed envelope. Sude took the envelope to her bedroom, opened it, and read the note on the pale-blue paper.

  Dear Sude,

  You were right. There’s no need to rush things. I need some time to persuade my father. Have a great time in Side. Look forward to seeing you when you get back.

  Enver

  Sude put the letter in the envelope and the envelope in the book she was reading. Then she got out her diary, recorded the date, and wrote:

  I’m stepping through the door to life alone. And if I keep living in this country, I’ll probably be alone forever. I have Jewish blood.

  New Horizons

  Sude spent the first month of that summer in Side nursing a broken heart. It didn’t matter how often her mother and father consoled her with the obvious truth that Enver was a complete idiot. She’d been rejected, and it was because of what she was, not who she was. Grandpa Gerhard, Grandma Elsa, and her mother were Jewish. But what did that mean, exactly? How should she feel about it? She’d always imagined that because such things made no difference to her, they wouldn’t matter to anyone else, either.

  Enver hadn’t minded that she was German. He’d dumped her because she was Jewish. His father admired Hitler! Was that possible? How could anyone admire Hitler? Was it because he hated Jews? Of all the boys at school, why, oh why, had she gone and fallen for Enver? Or were the other boys’ fathers just like Enver’s, fathers whom Sude’s parents would have called fascists. It seemed so unfair. She’d been to a few Bar Mitzvahs, a couple of Jewish weddings, and one funeral. Those were the only times she’d ever even been in a synagogue. As far as she knew, her mother went only very occasionally, and she’d never pushed Sude or given her any religious instruction. Besides, what if she did go to the synagogue every single day of the week? What business was that of Enver’s and his stupid father? If being Jewish was so bad, why had Grandpa Nazmi let his only son marry her mother?

  After several sleepless nights, she was ready to speak frankly to her grandfather.

  “Your mother grew up with us,” Grandpa Nazmi said. “When your grandparents moved to our building, she was about a year old. We adored her. We’ve always considered her to be one of us.”

  “Would you have let your son marry a Jewish girl you didn’t know?”

  “Yes. As long as our grandchildren would be brought up as Muslims.”

  “Grandpa, am I a Muslim?”

  “Of course.”

  “But I never pray or fast. And for that matter, neither do you or Grandma.”

  Nazmi Bey didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he looked his granddaughter in the eye and said, “Look inside your heart, Sude. You’re whatever it is you see there.”

  Sude’s heart was broken. And empty. She didn’t feel as though she belonged to any religion, and she was certain she would never love again. All she wanted was to be left alone.

  Her grandma Bedia kept saying, “They’ll be lining up for you, my dear. You’re a beautiful girl. Now stop moping!”

  Her grandma Elsa said, “Life isn’t always easy, Sude. Be ready for anything and learn to pick yourself up when you fall. Above all, don’t let a silly boy make you so unhappy!”

  Her mother told her, “When you start university in Frankfurt, the world will seem like a completely different place. Who knows how many boys you’ll fall in love with? Just be yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do. What could be more precious in life than the freedom to make your own choices and your own mistakes?”

  “I don’t know what’s precious in life, Mom! Nothing makes sense.”

  Then, six weeks before the end of summer break, along came Korhan.

  It was evening. Sude was sitting on the stone steps in the ruins of Side’s ancient amphitheater, watching the sea. She heard a click, but took no notice. Then it happened again. Click. Click. Click. She turned and looked. A shaggy guy in shorts was coming toward her, spring
ing up the steps two and three at a time.

  “I took your picture,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to hold an exhibition. On solitude. I didn’t want to use your photo without your permission. Nobody will know it’s you. I took them all from behind.”

  “What’s a picture of someone’s back got to do with solitude?”

  “You should see the way you hold your shoulders. It’s a study in loneliness.”

  “Are you sure you’re not crazy?”

  “No, I’m not crazy. But I know what it is to be alone. And I recognized something in your shoulders, something I can see in your eyes, too.”

  Sude reflexively covered her eyes with her hand as she stood up.

  “I could keep you company, if you’d like,” the shaggy man said.

  “No! I’m leaving.”

  “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That you were about to leave. You always get up and go when the sun disappears behind that column over there.”

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  “It’s not spying if you happen to sit right where I’m looking. Do you see that house over there?” he asked, pointing to a stone building with a red tile roof. “I live there. And I’ve seen you sitting up here alone for weeks now.”

  “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I don’t work. I paint, I cook, I take pictures, I play the flute. Sometimes I read books, and sometimes I write them.”

  “You’re either a dreamer or a loafer. Or maybe both.”

  “Both!”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t starve to death.”

  “Oh, I’d never starve. I’m a great cook. I make my own pickles and bread. I’ve got some homemade cherry liqueur if you’re interested.”

  Sude looked the shaggy man up and down. His skin was the color of copper, and his wild brown hair was sun-bleached. His eyes were a strange color somewhere between green and light-brown. He was taller than she was, which made him tall, even for a man. For some reason, she felt like she could trust him.

  “I’m Korhan.”

  “Sude.”

  An hour later, Sude was sitting in Korhan’s stone house. She was sipping sour cherry–infused vodka and studying the paintings on the wall—watercolors of the sea, mostly—while he developed his latest roll of film in a makeshift darkroom.

  The furnishings were spare. Plank floors and handwoven carpets. Stained wood and bright cotton curtains. It was everyone’s fantasy of what a village house should be. Perhaps Korhan had designed it himself? Sude decided not to ask any questions. And she wouldn’t tell him anything about herself, either.

  By the end of the second hour in Korhan’s stone house, Sude was kneeling on a cushion in front of the photographs he’d laid on the floor.

  In the first photo, the rays of the evening sun created a halo effect around her head. Her shoulders—he was right, her shoulders were crying, if shoulders can cry. She looked at the next one. It was taken from behind, too, but his camera saw right through her. Was he some kind of wizard?

  Korhan came over and knelt next to her. “Why are you so sad, pretty girl?”

  Sude found she’d rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled like the sea.

  “I’m not sad,” she said. “I’m just lonely.”

  Three hours later, they’d reached the bottom of the bottle, and Korhan had learned that Sude was going to Ankara in September and from there to Frankfurt. He gently pushed her hair back from her face. He kissed her.

  They sat like that for a while longer, their shoulders touching.

  Sude got up and said, “I’ve got to go home.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “They’ll get worried.”

  “I mean, go to your summer house now. But come back and stay with me. Don’t go to Ankara or Germany.”

  “What will we do if I stay with you?”

  “We’ll cook, we’ll paint, we’ll take pictures, we’ll read, we’ll swim, we’ll go on walks, we’ll explore . . . and, if you like, we’ll make love.”

  “I’m half Jewish, you know.”

  “So what?” Korhan said.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Why would I?”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Should it?”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow, at sunset,” Sude said. She ran all the way home and went straight up to Suzi, who was doing the dishes.

  “I think I found the man of my life, Mom.”

  “Well, that was quick. Weren’t you saying something about your heart being empty just this morning?”

  “Korhan, the guy I met, doesn’t care at all that I’m Jewish.”

  “Number one, if you’re not going to be home for dinner, let us know. Number two, that doesn’t make him the man of your life.”

  “Mom, why won’t you let me be happy?”

  Sude started spending mornings with her family on the beach and evenings with Korhan. A couple of times a week, she’d make a point of having dinner with her family, but always sprang up and ran off when the meal was over. When Korhan wasn’t at home, she would find him playing the guitar in front of a bonfire on the beach with the tourists he sometimes guided through the ruins. After everyone went back to their hotels, she and Korhan would walk to his house together. Sometimes they made love, and sometimes they sat there together without a word.

  “What are you thinking about when you get that faraway look?” Sude asked him on one of those silent days when they were sitting in the courtyard.

  “I’m listening to my inner voice.”

  “And what’s it telling you?”

  “That I should savor every second.”

  “But all you do is waste time, Korhan! You don’t have a family or a proper job.”

  “I’ve got peace of mind! Nothing’s more precious than that.”

  “Love is precious, too.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s go and make some.” Korhan gathered Sude up in his arms and carried her into the house.

  And so the days of August passed, mellow and easy.

  In mid-September, Sude said to her mother, “I’m not going to Ankara with you and Dad at the end of the month. And I’m not going to Frankfurt, either.”

  “Sude! You’re already registered for classes. And we’ve paid the fees. What are you talking about?”

  “You told me there was nothing more precious than having the freedom to make my own decisions. I’ve decided to stay here.”

  “Once the season’s over, everything will be closed. You’ll be bored to death. What do you plan on doing all winter long, in Side of all places?”

  “I’m going to listen to my inner voice and find myself, Mother. I’ll never find myself until I get away from you and Dad and my grandparents.”

  Suzi stared at her daughter. Inner voice? Sude must have picked that up from her new boyfriend.

  In tears that night, Suzi told her husband what had happened. “Please talk to her, Demir. She’s making the worst mistake of her life!”

  “She’s got the law on her side, dear. If she were under eighteen, I’d sling her over my shoulder and carry her home.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ll let her live her life. It won’t hurt for her to have a year to herself. She’ll be eager to go to university next year.”

  “You realize why she’s doing this, don’t you? She’s had a complex about her Jewish heritage ever since that imbecile, Enver.”

  “I suspect it’s more than that. But if she has developed a complex of some kind, this might be just the opportunity she needs to get over it.”

  Now it was Suzi’s turn to suffer sleepless nights. Careful not to disturb her parents, she’d end up tiptoeing around the house until dawn. Was it right to leave Sude behind with a perfect stranger? Technically, she was an adult, but she still seemed like a child. Were Suzi to confide in her own mother, she knew she’d get an earful. They’d end
up talking about how Suzi got pregnant before she was married. But it wasn’t the same thing. She and Demir had been madly in love, and they’d known they would spend the rest of their lives together. What’s more, they’d grown up together, where everyone knew them. This was different. They were about to leave their daughter, who was barely out of high school, in a little seaside town with a strange man who was nearly thirty! And Demir refused to do anything about it.

  Early one morning, Suzi slowly opened the door and slipped out into the garden, barefoot. As she stretched out on a garden chair, heedless of the dew, she started. It felt like a cold hand had touched her shoulder. She turned and looked, but nobody was there. The sky paled and a hint of pink appeared on the horizon. It reminded Suzi of a moment years ago, back before she’d married Demir.

  She had attended a wedding reception at the Pera Palace Hotel and was spending the night at Madame’s afterward. Wide awake, she’d sat in front of the window, waiting for the sun to come up, just like this. Except, that night, she was up thinking about Demir. Madame had come in and covered her shoulders with a shawl.

  “Suzi,” Madame had said, “never let your pride get the better of you. Life isn’t nearly as long as you think. It gallops by. Blink, and you miss it. If you love someone, never hide it. Open your heart.”

  She’d rested her head on Madame’s shoulder and fallen asleep right there on the sofa in front of the window. She’d always told Madame everything, all the secrets she kept from her mother. Perhaps that’s why she was being punished now? Sude never told her anything.

  She felt it again! A touch on her back . . . but this time she didn’t need to turn around and see what it was. Demir was draping a robe over her shoulders. She smiled.

  “You’ll catch a chill out here. Come inside. You can think in bed, too, you know. Or better yet, stop thinking! Sude’s ready to fly out of the nest. Let her go.”

  “But she’s so alone.”

  “So be it! She’ll feel lonely until she meets the right person. If we try to restrict her freedom, she’ll just get miserable and blame us.”

  Suzi got up a bit stiffly and groaned. Demir put his arm around her waist, and they walked into the house together.

  “All I want is for her to be as happy as I am. Am I asking too much?” Suzi said.