by Ahmet Altan
He sat next to Rıfkı Bey all day, waiting for the order to attack, when he got bored, he toured the units that were posted in various parts of the garden, which was as large as a neighborhood, and watched the mutineers pressing against the garden fence.
Twice the mutineering soldiers attacked and tried to seize the ministry, the first time they were repelled with pressurized water and the second time Mahmut Muhtar Pasha came out and commanded the units to fire into the air, but Ragıp Bey could see how unwilling the units in the ministry garden were.
In the evening, as darkness was falling, officers from the ministry’s band and civil servants wandered in groups through the garden trying to convince the soldiers to join the mutiny. Ragıp Bey heard with his own ears that soldiers were grumbling that they wanted to leave the ministry garden and join the mutineers; just as he’d surmised, with every passing moment the morale of the loyal units was weakening and the mutineers were gaining confidence.
When it grew dark he went back into the ministry building, where all the lights had been lit, and went to see Rıfkı Bey; the commotion of that morning had subsided and everyone looked glum.
He asked Rıfkı Bey if there was any hope.
Rıfkı Bey shook his head.
“I heard that Muhtar Pasha begged the prime minister, the Grand Vizier, and the minister of war to give the order to attack, but they all insisted that he was not to attack under any circumstances.”
“Rıfkı, the ministry is under siege, the soldiers have mutinied, why is your pasha still waiting for orders?”
“Ragıp, you have no idea about these things, they’re hazardous, tomorrow he could be court-martialed for disobeying an order. He could even be handed over to the mutineers as a traitor. It’s not clear who’s doing what and which side anyone is on, what can Muhtar Pasha do.”
Meanwhile they’d learned that the Sultan, who’d met with a delegation from parliament, had issued an imperial decree forgiving the mutineers. Toward seven o’clock, a lieutenant rushed in to speak to Rıfkı Bey.
“Our soldiers are trying to move closer to the gate, they’re getting ready to join the mutineers, commander.”
Rıfkı Bey made a face and said he would inform the commander, if this news had arrived that morning everyone would have sprung into action and started planning how to prevent this, but now everyone was losing hope.
When Rıfkı Bey returned a little later his face was ashen.
“Muhtar Pasha has decided that the First Army is no longer viable from a military point of view, he has tendered his resignation and will be leaving the ministry soon.”
Ragıp Bey jumped to his feet.
“Is that Pasha mad, he’s destroying his entire career in a single day, is this any time to be such a coward?”
Even though Rıfkı Bey disapproved of Muhtar Pasha’s action, he’d served under him for many years and was reluctant to accuse him of cowardice.
“Don’t say that, Ragıp, if this was simply a military issue the pasha would do whatever had to be done, he’s a courageous man, I’ve seen proof of this on many occasions, but this time there’s politics involved, the Grand Vizier has resigned, the minister of war has resigned, the chief of general staff has ordered soldiers to be sent to Hagia Sophia square to take the mutineers’ guns and then join them, even the speaker of parliament, the Committee’s darling, says we shouldn’t resort to arms. What should Muhtar Pasha do? If you show him the enemy he’ll attack, but the Pasha doesn’t know who’s an enemy and who’s a friend.”
Just then Şükrü Bey, who’d helped Ragıp Bey get into the ministry garden, arrived out of breath.
“What’s going on, they say the Pasha has resigned, we’ve been ordered to return to barracks.”
Rıfkı Bey nodded his head.
“The Pasha has resigned, that’s correct.”
The three officers looked at each other. Ragıp Bey asked the question that had passed through all of their minds.
“What are we going to do?”
Şükrü Bey sat down and lit a cigarette.
“There’s nothing we can do here, if we waste time here the mutineers will wipe us out along with the rest of the officers, even if they don’t kill us we’ll be humiliated. I think we should leave the city right away, we can try to find a couple of horses at Edirnekapi and hold out in Çatalca. Salonika will make Istanbul pay; the Third Army will move soon, and we can join them.”
Ragıp Bey didn’t even have to think about this.
“Fine, let’s go.”
Rıfkı Bey shook his head.
“You go, I’ll stay, someone needs to keep our friends informed about what’s going on here, we can’t completely abandon this place.”
Şükrü Bey tried to persuade his friend.
“They’ll kill you.”
“I’ll change out of my uniform, I’ll wear the civilian clothes Ragıp wore this morning before he changed into my uniform. In the morning we needed a uniform, uniforms were precious then, but now I need civilian clothes because the uniform has lost its value. It only took a day to leave behind the uniform we’ve always worn.”
Ragıp Bey wasn’t in the mood to mourn the uniform.
“Come on, let’s go then. There’s no time to lose and there’s much for us to do. When we return with the Third Army we’ll settle accounts with the people who cheapened the uniform.”
Rıfkı Bey put on the civilian clothes and as the three officers were leaving the building, Muhtar Pasha exited the side gate in his carriage; when the mutineers besieged his house the following day, he escaped disguised as a Greek fisherman and took refuge with the Germans, and, like all those who destroy their careers in a single day, he would wonder what the mistake he made “that day” was, but he would never quite be able to figure out what it was.
In the ministry garden there was the profound disarray seen in defeated armies. In the darkness of the night that descended like purple velvet, sergeants with trembling oil lamps, whose light turned the shadows of everything it touched into monsters preparing to attack, looked for their soldiers under the trees, the cavalry battalion’s horses became agitated by the noise and reared and neighed, the sound of horseshoes on the paving stones made the soldiers load their rifles, units that had lost their officers tried to move out the gate at the same time and ended up trampling one another, the soldiers cursed and exchanged blows to suppress their fear.
Most of the officers had snuck out of the garden in order to leave the city, those who hadn’t would either be beaten by the soldiers on the streets or, if they were less fortunate, shot, no one knew exactly how many officers were killed, but it was said to be about forty
With its darkened windows and the large, open door that looked like the mouth of a giant who was about to scream, the magnificent war ministry building looked like a deserted, pitiful, burned-out ruin.
Using the darkness to their advantage, the three officers went out through the gate on the Mercan side; Şükrü Bey and Ragıp Bey bade farewell to Rıfkı Bey, who looked like a rural shepherd in his civilian clothes.
Şükrü Bey said, “I know some people at the stables in Edirnekapı, let’s go and get some horses.”
“You go to Edirnekapı and arrange for the horses, there’s something I have to do, I’ll take care of it and be back in an hour. If I’m not back in an hour, something has happened to me and you need to get going.”
After he left Şükrü Bey, Ragıp Bey headed for the tekke, before he left the city he wanted to kiss his mother’s hand, say farewell to his wife and find out what the Sheikh thought about the mutiny.
For the first time, he found the tekke’s large gate closed, he knocked with the brass knocker and waited for the door to be opened, there were sounds of gunfire in the city.
He found the Sheikh with a foreign woman who spoke with a strange accent and her two sons, who were about thirteen or f
ourteen; the woman was weeping but she continued to speak without sobbing or raising her voice.
Sheikh Efendi calmed her with the tranquility he always possessed.
“Don’t worry, Emily Hanım, in fact you’re not in any danger, but since you’re hesitant we’ll find a solution.”
Then he turned to one of his followers who was waiting by the door with his hands clasped over his belly.
“Our ladies can find an abiya for Emily Hanım and she can wear that, bring her sons some of our clothes to wear. Then find one of our boatmen, have two of our followers accompany them and bring them to the lodge in Üsküdar.”
Then he turned back to the woman.
“In the morning you can go to your friends in Beylerbeyi. Don’t worry, no one will touch a hair on your head as long as our followers are with you. Now go change your clothes and get going. Go in peace.”
The woman kissed the sheikh’s hand, her sons imitated her and kissed his hand in an awkward and unpracticed manner. When the woman and her children had gone, he gestured for Ragıp Bey to join him.
“Welcome, Ragıp Bey, how are you, I was worried about you.”
“Thank you, your excellency, on account of your prayers I’m well.”
When he saw Ragıp Bey looking at the woman who was going out the door with her sons, the sheikh explained briefly.
“Emily Hanım visits the tekke often, her husband used to work at an embassy, she remained here after he died. Soldiers were shooting in front of her house, she was frightened and wanted to go to her friends and asked for our help.”
Ragıp Bey believed once again that he would never fully grasp the secret of this tekke, he would always encounter something that surprised him. Then he got to the point.
“You know what’s going on, of course . . . ”
“I’ve heard. The Ulema doesn’t approve of what’s going on, the Sheikhs of the tekkes are strongly opposed to this mutiny. Men of religion are not involved in what’s going on, the only people participating in the name of religion are a few religious fanatics from the madrassas. There’s a fool-saint called Derviş Vahdeti, and there’s Said-i Kürdi, who wears a dagger in his cummerbund, he’s another story. Let me tell you straight, Ragıp Bey, God and religion are being mentioned a lot, but what’s going on has no connection to either God or religion. Anyone seeking the cause shouldn’t look to religion, he should look in places that bear no relationship to religion.”
For the first time Ragıp Bey sensed anger in Sheikh Efendi’s voice, in whose echo there was always a faint and penetrating melancholy and a fragile resignation that made any mortal he spoke to identify with him.
“The damned Sultan is stirring them up,” he said.
“The truth is usually not in the place we think we’ll find it, Ragıp Bey, I’ve always doubted truth that’s found too easily. I believe that it always requires effort to capture the truth, truths we think we’ve arrived at too easily are lies that have been spread so that they can be grasped as truths.”
The Sheikh’s voice had become calmer, had returned to its usual tone, but Ragıp Bey could feel the concealed reproach in his words, he sensed he was being put in his place for being so insolent as to speak rashly in his presence and he was ashamed, and he tried to conceal his shame beneath an indifferent arrogance.
“If it wasn’t the ulema or the Sultan who stirred up these mullahs, then who was it, Your Excellency, who brought these soldiers out of their barracks? What is the truth?”
“People always say they want the truth, but sometimes I think they’re after what they’ve already decided is the truth, they don’t want the truth, but they want what they believe to be the truth to be proven. This weakness makes people blind, Ragıp Bey, they can’t even see what’s right in front of them. And perhaps you don’t want to see the truth. I can never decide if the truth is God’s blessing or a curse, I always sense a fire in it, not every eye can see it, not every hand can touch it, the truth burns, Ragıp Bey, not everyone has it in them to grasp it.”
Then he added in sorrow, as if for himself and not for Ragıp Bey:
“God help those who seek the truth.”
Like everyone who carries a sorrow that cannot be explained to others, like everyone tortured by the fire of a secret that can not be revealed, Sheikh Efendi turned every conversation, every discussion into an inner reckoning without letting the other sense it, whoever that other might be, the secret he carried was such a human secret, the sorrow that burned his soul was such a human weakness, anyone listening to him could find something about themselves in his words, in his inner reckoning, and illuminated themselves with the sparks that his words became.
He suddenly changed the subject, unconcerned that Ragıp Bey was waiting to learn the truth from him.
“What are you planning to do now? It’s not quite safe to wander around the city in the current situation, would you consider staying at the tekke for a while, it’s still the safest place in the capital.”
“This is not a time to hide, Your Excellency, with your permission I want to leave to join the army that will be coming from Salonika, my friends are waiting for me at Edirnekapı. We’ll get horses from the stable there and set off immediately.”
Sheikh Efendi smiled as if he was demonstrating that he was pleased.
“That’s a good plan . . . Has the army from Salonika begun to move?”
“I don’t think they’ve started to move yet, but I’m sure they won’t allow these vagabonds to get away with it, they’ll definitely do something. Whatever they do, there’ll be a part for us to play in it.”
After Ragıp Bey married the Sheikh’s daughter and became his son-in-law, their relationship didn’t change, their undeclared friendship continued as before, they trusted each other and were each proud of the other’s achievements.
Even though Sheikh Efendi had heard about Dilara Hanım he never brought the subject up, and indeed didn’t even allude to it. He knew that his son-in-law loved a woman other than his daughter, but he accepted this fact, which went against his beliefs and his moral code, because his friend found it did not go against his own beliefs and moral code, and he respected this silently. Later he said to Osman, “Never judge anyone by your own criteria, but judge them by their own criteria, an immoral man is not one who doesn’t obey my moral code, an immoral man is one who does not obey his own moral code.”
Sheikh Efendi pulled at the hem of his robe as he prepared to stand.
“I suppose you’re going to see your mother before you leave . . . ”
“With your permission, I would like to receive her blessing.”
“I’m sure they’ve already heard you’ve come and are waiting for you.”
They stood together, and the Sheikh looked at Ragıp Bey as if he envied him for being able to leave, or at least that’s how it seemed.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Ragıp Bey responded to Sheikh Efendi’s usual farewell with the same answer he always gave.
“Keeping us in your prayers will be more than enough.”
His mother waited for him in the simple room that had been set aside for her in the tekke’s harem with a white muslin scarf on her head, her face was sour, she was against smiling because it seemed a betrayal of the pain she’d suffered at a young age from the blows of war, migration, raids, and death, the web of lines on her face would not have known how to express joy, her small black eyes forever seemed to be looking to see the disaster approaching her sons before anyone else did, and she had a terrifying and almost unnatural love for her children which they sensed when they were with her, though this was never revealed in her manner or in the way she spoke.
As Ragıp Bey kissed her hand, she asked the same questions she unfailingly asked regardless of the circumstances.
“Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”
Ragıp Bey su
ddenly realized how long it had been since breakfast, since Dilara Hanım had made him eat something, but he lied.
“I’ve eaten . . . How are you? Are you comfortable here?”
“Thanks to God I’m well, I’m comfortable, don’t worry about me. They say the soldiers have mutinied.”
“Yes, a few reprobates have mutinied.”
“I’ve heard they’re taunting the officers.”
When he heard his mother talk about the mutineers as if they were neighborhood bullies, he couldn’t contain himself and laughed; he realized what his mother really wanted to ask.
“Nobody has taunted me, mother.”
“Good. Have you heard from your brother?”
“Last I heard he was in Berlin, I imagine he’s in Salonika by now, don’t worry about him either. I’ll be leaving the city soon and heading for Salonika.”
“Aren’t you staying tonight?”
“I have to go, my friends are waiting for me, I came to kiss your hand and get your blessing before I leave.”
“Are you leaving right away?”
“I must, mother.”
There was a long silence, in the end his mother stood.
“Fine. Do what you’re bound to do. May God be with you.”
“Is there anything you’d like me to do, is there anything you need?”
“I don’t need anything, don’t think about me.”
As Ragıp Bey kissed his mother’s hand and left the room, the old woman gestured to the room next door.
“That’s Hatice Hanım’s room.”
“Let me say farewell to her too.”
“Don’t waste too much time, you need to be on your way, don’t be late.”
“Yes, mother.”
The old woman, who never spoke of her hatred for her daughter-in-law and had never once complained about her to her son, went back into her room and closed the door before Hatice Hanım’s door opened.
Hatice Hanım was in the last days of her pregnancy, her hands were swollen like well-fried puff pastries and her feet had rounded like knobs; her belly protruded like a large boiler. When Ragıp Bey entered she was reading the Koran by the dim and dispiriting oil lamp next to her, after looking up and seeing her husband, she put the book on her lap but didn’t move. She didn’t forgive her husband for loving another woman, anyone who did forgive him, even her own father, was an enemy; she didn’t utter a word of welcome but simply glared at him scornfully as if he was a servant who’d entered without permission.
