The Time of Mute Swans

by Ece Temelkuran

  Sometimes I think Samim Abi says these things just to make me laugh.

  “Aydın, could you check and see if the alcohol has heated up yet? And now I’ll jump right down from this chair to check on the alcohol because Aydın Abi is hopeless…. Yes … the alcohol is nice and warmed up. And now, little Ayşe, it’s time for the hocus-pocus part. Be sure to stand far enough away, over by the door. That’s right. Now you can help me.”

  Samim Abi took the lid off the pot and lit a match.

  “Don’t be scared, Ayşe.”

  With a puff, a huge flame shot from the pot. Samim Abi stuck the lid back on, but he wasn’t scared, not a bit.

  “Count to ten, Ayşe. One, two, three … Ten! I’m taking off the lid and throwing in three sugar cubes. Your mom will add two drops of glycerin. That’s it. Now, watch what I’m putting inside the funnel, just so. A coffee filter I bought at the American Market, opening myself up to all kinds of criticism. We’re supposed to put charcoal in the filter, Ayşe, but when I couldn’t find any I got some Eucarbon from the pharmacist. It’s a stomach medicine that has charcoal in it. Our country has fallen so far into the clutches of imperialism, is so firmly under the boot of the oligarchy, is so crushed by monopoly capitalism, that we don’t even produce our own charcoal. You hear that, Aydın Bey? I’m educating your daughter, if you don’t mind. Hey, where did Ayla go?”

  I could hear Dad talking to Mom in the other room.

  “Sevgi, I’ll let Hasan Efendi know then. Let’s have his wife come soon.”

  “All right, Aydın. Have her come.”

  “Which day should she come?”

  “Thursdays.”

  “So, I’ll tell her Thursdays are good?”

  “Right. Okay.”

  Samim Abi turned around and laughed. I love the way he laughs.

  “That’s great to hear, Aydın. You dodged a bullet yet again. Now let’s get back to our real mission for today, which is making vodka. Let’s get Ayla in here, too.”

  Mom and Dad finally laughed for real. I was just starting to laugh too when I got scared.

  Bang! Bang!

  “Where’s Ayla?”

  Bang! Bang!

  “Fighting’s broken out! Where’s Ayla!”

  Samim Abi dropped everything. The doorbell rang. He ran to the door. Mom tried to grab me, but I ran after Samim Abi. When he opened the door, you wouldn’t believe what I saw on the doormat.

  “Mischa! Look, Mom, it’s Mischa!”

  Ayla Abla came up behind me.

  “Look! It’s Mischa, the Olympic mascot. She’s come all the way here just to visit Ayşe.”

  Samim Abi hugged Ayla Abla.

  “Ayla! When I heard the gunshots—”

  “Calm down, Samim. I snuck out through the terrace and then around the—”

  I picked up Mischa and gave her a hug. She’s visiting from Moscow.

  Grandma shouted out of the window of our apartment.

  “Sevgi! Are you all okay?”

  “We’re fine, Mother. Don’t stand in front of the window. Close it right away!”

  Then Mom said something in a tiny voice, but I heard it, even if nobody else did.

  “We’re fine, just fine.”

  Mom and the other grown-ups always get excited when the big kids are playing out in the streets. The same way I get excited when the swing in the park goes too high or too fast. But when the guns stop going bang, bang, Samim Abi sets up the projector and we see a huge place where lots of people walk in a line and carry flags and stuff. They say it’s Moscow. When the projector is running, even when you close your eyes the light still comes in. It’s kind of like what happens before your afternoon nap, when you squeeze your eyes shut and you can see fish and bugs swimming right in front of your eyes, and when you try to follow them with your eyes you feel like your eyeballs are going to roll out and away. It’s like that. If you look right into the projector and then look away, you see all kinds of lights. And if you look here and there, blinking and blinking, the projector becomes the whole sky. Mischa the Bear smells like another country. Just like the map room at school.

  Early to Rise

  RAMBLING GARDENS NEIGHBORHOOD

  “Hüseyin, ask my husband who fell into the well. Go on, ask Hasan!”

  There’s going to be a fight. And there’ll be lots of noise. What if Dad hits Mom? I hope he doesn’t. But he won’t, not in front of Hüseyin Abi.

  Everything was done. The engagement party was done. The meeting was done. Nobody shot at us from Almond Stream on the other hill. We could all go to sleep. Come on, let’s go to sleep. Come on! I want quiet. I’m so tired. I feel like my head’s going to explode!

  A little after the power came back on, the big sisters at the party gave the signal. They shouted out the words of the song:

  “Oh petrol, dear petrol!”

  One of the big brothers near me heard the signal.

  “The police must be on their way. The girls are singing ‘Petrol.’ We need to get all our stuff, quick. What do you say, Hüseyin? Those fascists over at Almond Stream have heavy weapons. Our pistols are no match for them. Can we ask your connections for something else, Hüseyin?”

  The light of the lantern is dim now. It’s a lantern with its own gas canister and a little white bag that burns, but you mustn’t touch it when it’s on fire. If you do, it’ll turn into dust, that’s what they say. Hüseyin Abi is playing with his lighter.

  “There’s no need. What are we going to get, an anti-aircraft gun? What more do you want?”

  Nobody has a lighter like Hüseyin’s. It’s an Ibelo. Silver. He’s thinking hard, flicking his lighter. It clicks, but it doesn’t burn.

  “Well, for one thing, we need more ammo.”

  “Okay, I can understand that. What else do we need?”

  “We need a couple of assault rifles, Hüseyin.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll ask. Now let’s get out of here. The cops are on their way. Figure out how much money we can raise. We don’t want to bleed the neighborhood dry. We’ll end up looking like extortionists.”

  “Hüseyin, they’re burning houses down now. Unless someone stands up to them, they’ll be gunning down women and kids next.”

  The big brothers pushed down on their knees with their palms as they stood up. They were all twisting their mustaches between their fingers. Then they scattered into the darkness. It’s always the big sisters who talk with the policemen.

  “We’re having an engagement party, officer.”

  “This house just burned down. Why are you having it here?

  “We still need husbands, officer.”

  The pretty big sister said that. The other ones aren’t as pretty as her. She’s prettier because she goes to Middle East Technical University, just like Hüseyin. She made a notebook out of all the paper left in her old notebook and gave it to me for New Year’s. She really likes Hüseyin, and that’s why she gave me a present.

  The other girls pull the prettiest one to the side.

  “The party’s over, officer.”

  The policeman pushed back his cap with the tip of his baton.

  “There’s a rumor going around that a group from Almond Stream torched this house. It’s not true. You better tell your people to lay off. We saw you raising a flag on their hill the other day. We see everything, but we don’t want trouble. Where are the guys?”

  The pretty big sister shouted at the policemen.

  “They went to the tennis club!”

  “Look, I’m trying to be patient. But only because you said you were having an engagement party.”

  If the policeman gets mad, he’ll beat her. I hope he doesn’t. I hope he doesn’t.

  White-haired Uncle Dürüst comes up. He’s not really old; he just has white hair because they tortured him a lot in the ’71 coup. They zapped his pee-pee. That’s why he went crazy. And because he thinks too much. He always carries a bunch of books. And he’s carrying a flower, too. He picks them. He goes to the c
emetery every day, picks a flower, and then gives it to one of the big sisters. Now he’s holding out a flower to the policeman. I hope he doesn’t get beaten.

  “Get out of here! This guy gives me a flower every time he sees me. He’s nuts!”

  The pretty big sister runs up and takes the flower.

  “Give it to me, Dürüst. Come on, come over to us.”

  She puts the flower in her hair and takes Uncle Dürüst over to the fire. Uncle Dürüst always has a smile on his face.

  “Have kids. Have lots of kids.”

  Uncle Dürüst always says that. But he doesn’t say much else. When the policeman leaves, the big brothers come out of the darkness and go up to the big sisters. They walk differently in front of the girls, real serious, like they’re not scared of anything. The pretty sister puts her hand on her hip.

  “So, what are we doing now?”

  Hüseyin Abi pulls her closer.

  “Settle down. I’ll talk about that in a minute.”

  Mom sits next to the fire again. She doesn’t speak. She’s letting all the other women do the talking tonight:

  “How dare that cop come up here! If he’s so brave, let him go and patrol the fascists’ neighborhood.”

  “The cops aren’t afraid of anything when the power’s on. Is it any wonder those Almond Stream fascists dare to come up onto our hill?”

  “Let’s put out the fire. Aliye, you’re welcome to stay with us tonight.”

  Mom shakes her head. She cries when everyone else leaves. Hüseyin Abi sends the pretty girl off with the other ones. Uncle Dürüst is sitting in front of the fire. Someone always takes him away when it gets late. I don’t know where they take him. He always wears a black suit. An old one. He went crazy from thinking too much. I wonder if I’m going to go crazy too. Maybe my hair will turn white.

  Everyone’s gone but Hüseyin. He’s talking to my father.

  “Hasan, could I have a word with you for a minute?”

  “Sure. What it is, Hüseyin?”

  “The other guys are saying …”

  Mom is wandering through the ashes of the old house. Dad and Hüseyin Abi watch her as they talk.

  “Well, they’re saying the neighborhood needs more protection after what happened to you.”

  “Right. But how?”

  “Me and the others decided tonight that …”

  Now Mom is crying in what used to be the house, but she doesn’t make a sound. I think she’s saying, “Sait, Sait.” He’s my uncle, but I never met him.

  “… we need to get a couple of assault rifles.”

  When Mom starts wailing and sighing in the ashes, Dad calls out to her.

  “Aliye. Come over here. Don’t walk over there! Sorry, Hüseyin. I’m listening.”

  “Everyone agrees we need heavier weapons, so I’m—”

  Mom wails louder now. “Oh! Ah!”

  She sits down in the ashes. Dad goes up to her.

  “Aliye! What is it? Stop moaning. We’re going to build a new house. It’ll be better the old one.”

  Hüseyin Abi joins Mom and Dad.

  “We’ll all help. My friends from will come too. Tomorrow.”

  It scares me when Mom starts crying on her knees in the ashes.

  “Aliye! Get up. Come on. I told you I’d build a new house. With an indoor toilet. And we’ll cover the well this time so Ali doesn’t fall in again.”

  Mom froze. She looked at Dad.

  “What? Did Ali fall in the well?”

  She looked at me. I felt scared.

  “Ali, did you fall in the well? Did you? Tell me, Hasan. Did you let Ali fall in the well and not tell me?”

  Nobody said a word. Dad always lights a cigarette right away when he gets scared. Mom stood up. She was so angry. And that’s when she said it.

  “Did you hear that, Hüseyin? Hasan let Ali fall in the well and nobody even told me!”

  “Okay, okay. He didn’t get hurt.”

  “Hasan! Is that why my boy turned out like this?”

  Turned out like what? How have I turned out? Nothing happened to me. I just get all funny from too much noise. Does Mom not love me because I don’t like noise?

  “It’s okay, sister. Nothing serious happened!”

  Mom stamps out what’s left of the fire.

  “You listen here, Hasan. This changes everything. I’m getting a job. I don’t need your wages. You give most of it to the union, anyway. I’m going to make my own money and my boy’s going to go to university. I’m not asking you for permission. Come on, Ali. We’re spending the night at Nuran’s house.”

  Mom shook her finger at Dad.

  “Don’t try to follow me, Hasan. Go stay somewhere else. Hüseyin, take him away. I don’t want to see his face tonight.”

  I turned around while we were walking away. “Don’t look at him!” Mom said, her hands shaking. But I looked anyway.

  “Damn it,” Dad said. He kicked a pile of ashes.

  They forgot about Uncle Dürüst tonight. He’s still by the fire ring. He was talking in a low voice, just like me. I heard him:

  “Have kids before you die. Have lots of kids.”

  I hope they don’t forget him. I’ll give him some string. He can look at it.

  I shared a bed with Hamit that night. He kicked me in his sleep. I pushed him. Our neighborhood is so crowded. It’s so noisy. Nobody else has an encyclopedia. I think morning came before I fell asleep.

  UNIT 4

  This Is Our City

  We Love Our City

  “They’re here, Grandma! Grandma! Come quick or they’ll leave!”

  I run straight to the door. The “helper”—we’re not supposed to call her a “cleaning lady”—is bringing her kid. Someone about my age, Dad said. A new friend!

  Grandma has been cleaning the house ever since she got up. Dad is mad at her.

  “Nejla Hanım, why are you cleaning? The helper is on her way here now.”

  “Aydın, we don’t want her to think we live in a dirty house.”

  Grandma’s tired and her face is red, so she can’t walk to the front door very fast.

  “Don’t be silly, Ayşe. They can wait for a moment. They won’t leave.”

  The door opens and … Oh no! It’s a boy!

  —

  “Listen, Ali. Don’t make any noise while we’re there. Okay, son? Make your mother proud.”

  When Mom said that, I knew she was scared. She was holding my hand so tight it hurt. I didn’t say anything, though. She kept fussing with my clothes and my hair. She washed my dress shirt twice, with lots of soft soap. There’s a friend for me in that house, she said. Maybe we can play together. Or even read books.

  The door opens and … Oh no! It’s a girl!

  —

  When they came inside, Grandma picked up the envelope. Then she set it back down. There’s money in the envelope. Grandma told Mom and Dad that’s what she’d do.

  “I can’t hand her money! That would be so awkward. I’ll put it in an envelope.”

  —

  “Welcome. I hear your name is Aliye.”

  “And you … you’re Nejla Hanım, right?”

  “Please come in, my dear. You can take your shoes off inside. And what’s your name, little man?”

  Everyone was looking at me. I looked at my mother. Why did she let my hand go? The girl screamed.

  “I’m Ayşe.”

  Everyone laughed.

  —

  I run straight off to my room, looking back over my shoulder to see if he follows. He’s not coming. That’s because he’s a boy. They’re laughing in the living room.

  “Ayşe was so happy you were coming, little man. The two of you can play together.”

  Oh, why did Grandma say that!

  —

  The old lady put her hand on my shoulder. She’s taking me to where that girl went. I look at Mom. “Run along now,” she says in a whisper. There are so many books in that girl’s room. Ten! The girl screams ag
ain. She’s jumping up and down on the bed. She must be crazy.

  “I’ve got lots of books. I have One Peach. I have A Thousand Peaches.”

  I sit down in the chair.

  “They’re the same book. That’s only one book.”

  She stopped jumping.

  She screams again. I think she’s going to cry.

  “Grandma!”

  Now the girl’s running back into the room with the old lady, her grandma. The girl is holding a plate, and the plate is full of börek.

  —

  “Go on, Ayşe. Look, your friend’s name is Ali. Get to know each other. I’ll be in the other room helping Auntie Aliye. Would you like some börek, Ali? Help yourself. I’ll leave the two of you here, like brother and sister.”

  Grandma leaves, and I look at the boy. He’s not bad-looking, but he’s really skinny. That’s because they’re poor. His collar looks nice against his skin. He’s the color of coffee. I put my arm next to his while he was eating his börek. It made me giggle. My arm is so white. He didn’t laugh, though.

  “I can’t read the tiny letters yet. Can you read them? I mean, I can’t read the letters in Cumhuriyet, but there are some biggish letters that I can read really easy. Do you get Weekend? We don’t, but Jale Hanım does. Do you get it?”

  —

  The girl keeps talking and talking. Even more than Hamit the Laz. She puts her mouth close to my ear.

  “Jale Hanım is rooting for J.R. in Dallas.”

  What is Weekend?

  She gets back up on the bed.

  “Do you want to play ‘music hall’ with me? I’ll be the singer. Then it’ll be your turn. Stay right there! I have to get my feather.”

  She ran out of the room. She never stays put.

  “When I stick this feather in my hair, I turn into Seyyal Taner. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Seyyal Taner! ‘I told my heart it was fired. How could he have left me?’”

  She jumped off the bed and held out the feather.

  “Okay, now it’s your turn. Be Bülent Ersoy.”

  I can’t scream for my mother. I don’t want to scare her.