Portrait of a Turkish Family

by Orga, Irfan

  It was the first time anyone had mentioned anything about hurt and I felt the first chill of apprehension. I remember that İnci stared at me with round, appalled eyes because she had told me something she had obviously been warned to keep to herself. I rushed from the playroom, down the stairs and into the salon, in my panic forgetting to knock at the door and wait for permission to enter. As I burst in my father looked at me in astonishment.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded sternly.

  And I burst out passionately: ‘Baba! İnci says it will hurt me. Will it?’

  My father looked swiftly at my mother, then back to me and replied: ‘Nothing will hurt you. It’s all very simple and quick, and now let us look at your robe and see if you like it.’

  The subject was dismissed but I noticed that my mother gathered up her sewing and quickly left the room. I knew she was going in search of İnci and had a moment’s swift regret for what she was about to say to her.

  However my father’s words had partially reassured me so it was with a light heart that I went out to the hall table, where lay the precious package, and brought it back to the salon. My mother returned in time to open it for us and I stole a glance at her face. She looked very composed but there was a slight tinge of colour in her cheeks.

  The robe was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Blue it was, thick blue silk that slid against the face, embroidered lavishly with threads of gold and silver and rose. There was a blue cap in the same material, a sort of fez, and written across the front, in letters of brightest gold, was the word – ‘Maşallah.’

  I was so overcome with emotion that I could not speak and my grandmother imperiously called for Feride and Hacer and İnci to come and see the pretty thing. Amidst their exclamations and cries of delight I strutted proudly as a peacock and was only shaken once when I saw Mehmet put out a tentative small hand to take the hat. Fortunately İnci coaxed him away from the shining wonder and my heart began to function again.

  After this I became consumed with impatience. I wanted a definite day to be told me, to hold in my mind – and my shadowy fears began to grow bolder, threatening to swamp my mind. İnci had told Mehmet it would hurt. My father had assured me it would not. I trusted my father implicitly but I trusted İnci too. I could not remember a time in my life when I had not seen her black laughing face bent over me. She was as much a part of life and existence as were my fingers and toes. I began to have frightening dreams but had nobody to whom I could run for consolation. Oh the dim, incomprehensible fears of childhood and the total inability to share or lessen those fears!

  At times I would run to my mother, putting my head in her lap and bursting into floods of tears. She would take me on her knee and I would smell the comforting, familiar smell of her eau-de-Cologne as I nestled against her shoulder. She would ask me to tell her what was the matter but shame and pride forbade me discussing such a purely masculine thing as circumcision with her. But one unexpected day fear and doubt became things of the past – things to be looked back on with amusement and a certain lingering shame.

  That morning dawned differently from the others. In the first place my father did not go to his office and all the house was caught up in the bustle of extra cleaning. Poor Hacer was almost beside herself in the kitchen, with my mother and grandmother constantly going to inspect what she was doing. Feride was ordered to finish her work upstairs quickly in order that she might assist the near-hysterical Hacer. İnci was taken from Mehmet and me and we were left in the garden with my father, who would have been almost certainly better in his office, since the uproarious house was no place for him.

  In the middle of the afternoon I was whisked off to be bathed, an unheard-of thing – since my normal bathtime came prior to going to bed. Whilst İnci was drying me, she told me that I was going to be circumcised. Just then my mother arrived, in a flutter, with a bottle of her own especial eau-de-Cologne, and practically drenched me in its sickly, overpowering smell, damping and flattening down my curls with it and rubbing it across my body. İnci screwed up her little button of a nose and said I smelled like a woman, then quickly stuck her tongue between her teeth to make me laugh. When they finally let me go – having powdered and perfumed me to their hearts’ content – the blue robe was lifted from its box and lowered over my head. The cap was placed over my flattened hair at a becoming angle, for İnci had a great sense as to how a fellow should wear his headgear.

  I could hardly stand still with excitement and was several times sharply reprimanded by my mother, who was trying to pull white socks over my dancing feet and fasten intricate silk slippers. Yet even though I was excited, my stomach was playing funny tricks, and when Feride appeared with a little tray of fruit and milk it revolted in no uncertain fashion. However I was forced to swallow some milk, even though it tasted like poison, then I was taken down to my father. He held me at arm’s length and laughed at my timorous face. Hacer and Feride came to inspect and Mehmet, clinging fiercely to İnci’s red skirts, suddenly burst into loud howls – whether of envy or horror, I shall never know. He had to be taken away hurriedly for my grandmother’s frown of displeasure threatened to make him worse. The salon was full of people. Feride helped my mother dispense liqueurs and bonbons and there was a great deal of noise and laughter, with everyone drinking my health and crying ‘Maşallah’.

  It had been arranged that circumcision should take place in our neighbour’s house, a Colonel in the Ottoman Army, for his son and half a dozen other children were also to be circumcised. Presently the front-door bell trilled and the Colonel was brought into the salon, very erect and military looking. The mere sight of him and what he represented was enough to unnerve me completely. He chucked me under the chin and boomed in a terrible voice: ‘Well, we’re all ready for you.’

  I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter-house. My stomach turned over and did a somersault without any help from me at all. It felt as if it were pouring away. My mother came over to me and put her arm about my shoulders.

  After the Colonel had tossed off his liqueur in one gulp, having waved Feride and her bon-bons indignantly away, he joined my father. Presently they came and took my hand and we went out with the cheers of the guests echoing after us. My mother stayed behind, for it is not the custom in Turkey for the women to be present at a circumcision.

  For fear my silk slippers should become soiled, my father carried me across the little side path which divided our house from the Colonel’s. The front of the house was crowded with children and one or two of the bolder ones had even entered the garden to get a better view of the circumcision robes. I would not look at them and buried my face in my father’s shoulder.

  Inside the Colonel’s house everywhere was decorated with flowers and silver streamers. There was the same bustle here as there had been in our house, and as I was carried through the long hall I caught glimpses of the native servants entering and leaving the salon with trays of drinks. I was taken to a small room, which had been especially set aside for the use of the children. There were six or seven other boys there, all a little older than me and similarly robed. They talked animatedly, showing no sign of the burning fear that was now rapidly devouring me. They greeted me in a grown-up fashion and I envied their composure, and my father and the Colonel left us whilst they went to pay their respects to the adult guests. When we were alone the other boys, the eldest of whom was eight, strutted proudly about the room and talked in a very off-hand way and wondered which of us would be the first to go to the doctor.

  Then a clown appeared, dancing in and out between tables and chairs and playing a flute. Presently a second one came to join him. This one juggled deftly with oranges, and they both looked so funny with their exaggerated eyebrows, their white faces and red noses, that soon we were all laughing merrily and even I was beginning to forget my cowardice. An orchestra could be heard tuning up in the salon and then a woman’s voice broke out in a little plaintive melody that reminded me of Hacer.
r />   Suddenly I began to laugh louder than any and the clowns were delighted and redoubled their efforts to amuse us. But they did not know that I was laughing because I had had a vision of fat Hacer’s leaping, merry breasts. More and more clowns appeared and we eagerly crowded round them and they played gay little airs on their flutes and we children jigged light-heartedly about the room. The eldest of us, the son of the İmam, was very fat and pasty-faced and wore huge, disfiguring spectacles and suddenly one of the others snatched a clown’s hat and put it on his head. He looked so solemn and funny, with his eyes blinking owlishly behind the thick lens of his glasses, that we roared with spiteful laughter. He looked immeasurably silly and he just stood there quite still, whilst we shouted with laughter until the tears poured down our aching cheeks.

  The Colonel appeared in the doorway and told us to go upstairs. Clowns, laughter, excitement were all forgotten and even the orchestra no longer played from the salon. We all held our breaths and looked a little fearfully around us. My father came over and took my hand and we followed the others up the stairs. How slowly I took each stair! And how each one passed seemed to seal my doom inevitably!

  The fat boy was just in front of us with the İmam, his father, and he was saying: ‘Now there is nothing to be afraid of. You are the eldest boy here, therefore you must be the bravest and set an example to all the others.’

  But the poor fat boy only trembled violently and looked slack with fear. The room we entered was at the far end of a long corridor, a large room that overlooked the gardens. I remember that I looked out of one of the windows, across to our garden, and I saw İnci and Mehmet playing together on a rug which had been put out for them. I wished to run to them but there was no escape. My father’s hand held mine reassuringly. He had seen my involuntary glance through the window and I think he wanted me to know that he understood.

  In the room were eight beds, arranged dormitory-wise, four down each side. Each bed was covered with fresh linen, lace-edged pillows and a blue silk coverlet. In the centre of the room was a large table, loaded with sweetmeats and fruit and glasses for drinks. All the clowns had followed us and were dancing and tumbling all over the floor, playing their flutes, juggling with oranges and throwing their absurd, tall hats into the air. My father showed me my bed, for I was to sleep in this house for a day or two. It was under a window and I felt momentarily happier, for from here I could watch the garden and see İnci and Mehmet at their play. The doctor came in.

  Instinctively I glanced away from him and over to the fat boy. His cheeks were wobbling with terror and his knees trembling so violently beneath the long robe that I wondered how they ever supported him at all. His fear communicated itself to me. I wanted to run, to shout, to call for my mother, to feel the comfort of İnci’s arms about me. I looked at my father and felt my lower lip begin to quiver uncontrollably. He stooped over me and I still have the memory of his face, that kind gentle face, that lonely, shut-away face I loved so dearly. He was willing me to be brave and his fingers closed tightly over my icy hand.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he comforted me softly, so that the others should not hear. ‘Just be brave for one little minute more and then it will be all over.’

  The doctor looked at all of us standing so docilely with our fathers and began to shout with laughter.

  ‘What!’ he said happily. ‘Eight children in one room and not a sound to be heard!’

  He looked at me.

  ‘You are the youngest,’ he said, ‘so you shall come first.’ He took my hand and peered into my face. ‘I don’t really believe you are afraid,’ he said gently. ‘There is no need to be afraid, you know! I never hurt good boys and your father tells me you are a very good boy indeed. Come!’ He insisted to my stubborn, disbelieving face, ‘You will see, I shall not hurt you.’

  He took my arm and led me to an adjoining room, a small bare room to strike fresh terror into an already terrified heart.

  The Colonel stood me on a table, which had been specially placed in the centre of the room. I faced the window, the Colonel on one side of me and my father on the other. The doctor busied himself with a black bag and boiling water and after a minute which seemed a year approached the table.

  ‘Now just be a good child and stand still,’ he commanded, but it was unnecessary for him to waste his breath for I could not have moved if I had tried. My legs were rooted immovably to the table and my body icy cold. I turned my head away as I caught sight of a little shining instrument and the doctor said heartily: ‘Come, Hüsnü bey! Let us see what sort of a man your son is.’

  My father lifted my robe, baring my legs and the lower part of my body.

  ‘Open your legs!’ commanded the doctor, his voice no longer sugared but the voice of a man intent upon performing some duty. ‘Wider!’ he roared.

  I tremblingly obeyed. I remember that the Colonel held my ankles from behind me whilst my father pinioned my arms tightly. The doctor came nearer. I closed my eyes and was ready to die. There was a slight stinging feeling and suddenly it was all over.

  I had been circumcised and my fears had been groundless. Nevertheless I screamed lustily. Screaming was such an exquisite relief to my overwrought nerves that I continued, long after the need for it was over.

  The Colonel carried me back to the large room, meeting the second victim in the doorway. I was put into bed and clowns played their music and turned somersaults for my benefit and I felt proud and important.

  I had intended to eat many sweets but Nature had her way with me and very soon I slept.

  When I awoke the circumcision was over for everyone and the music of the orchestra came faintly and sweetly from the salon. The clowns had all gone. It was night and the stars looked very near and brilliant in a cloudless sky. Laughter and music and the chink of glasses came stealing up from downstairs and all the other boys slept. I was drowsy and contented and I turned on my side and went to sleep again.

  The next morning I awoke to sunlight and peals of laughter. The foot of my bed was heaped with presents and I sat up quickly and began to undo them. The terrors of the previous day had vanished and everyone boasted of his remarkable bravery – all, that is, except the fat boy. And he turned out to have a sense of humour for he told us that when the doctor came over to him, he had neighed like a horse.

  In the midst of our laughter a coloured servant came in with a tray of breakfasts. There was the customary white cheese, grapes, boiled eggs and bread and butter, wild cherry and rose jams and tea, served in small glasses with slices of lemon.

  She mocked our inability to get up and walk, remarked on our appetites which, she said, were surprising since yesterday we had rejected every offer of food and she had thought perhaps we were delicate children. And all this said with a twinkle in her eye to abash us for the cowards we had been less than twenty-four hours before. After breakfast our mothers visited us, promising that upon the following day we would be taken to our homes. I asked my mother why she had not been to see me the previous evening and she replied that she had but as I had been asleep she had not wanted to awaken me. She said she was proud of me because someone had told her I had been a brave boy. I blushed with shame, trying to explain that I had not been brave at all but she laid her cool fingers over my mouth and would not let me finish.

  ‘Sometimes the weakest of us are the bravest,’ she said.

  Mehmet had sent me lokum to eat and had cried for me during his breakfast. I was so touched by this that I resolved never again to be impatient with him when he could not follow a game. I kept that resolve for quite three days.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sarıyer

  The most beautiful present I had received for my circumcision was a big rocking-horse, brought me by my uncle Ahmet.

  Uncle Ahmet was my father’s brother. He was big and jolly and very good-looking. In his younger days he had been the despair of my grandfather’s life but after his marriage, to a young and wealthy girl, he had apparently settled down considerably.
I loved him and his wife too, for they had no children and used to spoil me atrociously.

  The day after I arrived home from the Colonel’s house, Uncle Ahmet and Aunt Ayşe arrived in a horse-drawn cab, laden with presents. They had come unexpectedly but there was a great joy in welcoming them, with we children making most of the noise and refusing to be hushed. My uncle brought many stuffed animal toys for Mehmet and butter and cheese and eggs from his farm for my mother.

  Aunt Ayşe was a lovely, shy person, most surprisingly blonde with large dark eyes. I think she was a little frightened of my grandmother for she hardly ever opened her mouth in her presence or expressed an opinion. I discovered later in life that she need not have been afraid, for my grandmother had a great liking for her and her money. Her greatest respect in life was for money.

  The day they arrived the house was soon filled with noise. Our squeals of delight, coupled with the loud hearty laughter of my uncle and the orders screamed by my grandmother to the servants, the chattering voices of my mother and my aunt, all served to give a stimulus, a sort of artificial gaiety to the drowsy old house.

  My rocking-horse was borne off to the playroom by my uncle, I following slowly and painfully for I was still unable to walk properly. Mehmet was lifted, chortling with joy, on the lovely horse and I was bitterly jealous because I could not yet do the same. My uncle played with us for a long time and promised me that he would ask my father’s permission to take me back with him to Sarıyer, which was the name of the place where he lived. I loved to stay at Sarıyer for it was much bigger than our house and had vast gardens and an orchard and many greenhouses. There was a gardener there too who, contrary to all accepted ideas, loved little boys.