The Time of Mute Swans

by Ece Temelkuran

  “Don’t get me wrong, Aydın Abi, but you’ve been so absent-minded. The last few times we’ve met you’ve been off in space. If anything’s wrong, and there’s something I can—”

  “Don’t worry about me, Detective. Just tell me if there’s any news.”

  “You remember that witness I interviewed concerning Cihan’s homicide? The elderly lady. We’re corroborating her sworn testimony. Something kind of shitty has happened, though.”

  “They haven’t shot her?”

  “No, no. It’s nothing to do with her. We nabbed this poor sap. One of the two guys sentenced to death in the Balgat Bloodbath case. To be honest, I feel kind of bad for him.”

  “Why? Who is he?”

  “Mustafa Pehlivanoğlu. The other perpetrator had apparently threatened him. ‘The local coffee houses are full of communists. Open fire or I’ll put a bullet through your head,’ he was told. So, this Mustafa character opened fire, killing five and wounding dozens. Aydın Abi, sometimes I … Look, you know how determined I am to catch these guys. We all are. And everyone in law enforcement is a prime target. You know that, too.”

  “Hey, hang on a second! Didn’t those two escape from prison? I remember seeing it in the paper.”

  “Yeah, somebody helped them escape from Mamak Military Prison. They got as far as Kütahya. I didn’t tell you about it at the time. We were tipped off. There were four guys holed up in a village house in Kütahya. We burst in on them—”

  “Dad! I need to go to the toilet. I mean, the restroom. Can I go alone?”

  When we’re not at home, we call the “toilet” the “restroom.” I’m old enough now to go by myself, even at the meyhane. I walk through the thick smoke, waving my arms to clear a path. Each table has its own cloud of smoke, and the people talk and talk in their own little cloud. I hear them as I pass, but the things they say get all mixed up in my head.

  “Twenty! On average, twenty people a day are getting killed in this country. Not to mention all the armed robberies.”

  “It says here that our heroic army is determined to stamp out the so-called ‘insurrection’ in Fatsa. Apparently, the Soviet Union hopes to invade Turkey from the Black Sea with the help of local collaborators. Who dreams up this stuff? Fatsa’s just a small town on the coast.”

  “I’m hearing reports from back home in Adıyaman that Apo’s organizers are busy recruiting followers from among the city’s Kurds.”

  “Our male authors are such phonies. None of them deigned to take Sevgi Soysal seriously when she was alive, but now …”

  “Am I the only one? I don’t know how to describe it. I feel as though this is all happening in another country. I should be horrified, outraged, terrified…. I should feel something. Is it apathy? Stoicism? Am I protecting my heart, or my sanity? Is there a clinical term to …”

  I wave my arms faster and faster, until I’m a butterfly floating though a smoky cloud.

  I get to the old auntie sitting at a small table outside the toilet. She’s got huge earrings and a white kerchief. And she’s got a son. He’s big, but he’s like a child. He never talks. His face is kind of scary, and so is the way he moves his head. I asked Dad why he does that. It’s because he can’t see anything. I’m afraid to go into the toilet with him sitting there, so I wait for someone else to come. The old woman’s reading the newspaper out loud to her son. He’s smiling, but at the air. His eyes are white.

  “Listen to this, my boy. Zeki Müren’s begun posing for the press with a woman or two on his arm. The fuss being made over Bülent Ersoy must have scared him. Some people are pointing out that Zeki Müren was the one who started it. He’s been mincing around in a cape and a skirt and platform shoes for years now. Bülent’s just taken it a step further. You should see this photo! Zeki Müren’s more womanish than the woman he’s kissing. He’s wearing mascara. And lipstick. And yet it’s Bülent who’s taking all the heat. Well, it always pays to be two-faced in this country. It says here that Bülent’s posters got torn up at the fair. Somebody even drew a mustache on one of them. I’m telling you, these maniacs are no better than a pack of wild dogs. Bülent thinks his fame and fortune will protect him. Well, he’s in for a terrible surprise. Nobody can get away with being that different. They’ll gouge out his eyes sooner or later.”

  The lady stroked her son’s head, then his cheek. Tears came out of his eyes, and she wiped them away with her fingers. Then she saw me.

  “Hi, little miss. Got to pee?”

  You’re not supposed to say ‘pee’!

  I ran back to Dad’s table. He didn’t even notice me at first. Maybe because it’s so smoky. Dad’s eyes were all red again. Uncle Detective was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

  “Aydın Abi, do you realize what you’re saying?”

  “Detective, this isn’t simply about my being jealous. This guy Sevgi’s seeing is from her old organization. I’m worried.”

  “Well, have you considered talking to her? Can’t you?”

  “No, I can’t do that. She doesn’t talk to me anymore. Could you do me a favor and tail her for a few days?”

  “Tail your wife? Have you gone out of your mind?”

  Then Uncle Detective saw me. He said, “Ayşe!” like I’d caught him doing something wrong. Dad didn’t look at me. I didn’t even get to tell him I still had to go the restroom. Uncle Detective smiled at my dad.

  “Don’t get angry, but let me give you some advice. In matters like this, you’re better off ignoring your suspicions.”

  “In matters like what, Detective?”

  Dad yelled it. Uncle Detective chewed on his nails. He looked over at me like he was scared. He leaned close to Dad.

  “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll see what I can do.”

  “There’s something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our neighbor. Samim. He works at TRT, but there’s something funny about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “I’ll make a few inquiries. Aydın Abi … Why don’t you take it easy for a while? You’re not looking well. I hope you don’t mind me coming right out and saying so.”

  “I’m fine, Detective. In fact, I’m starting to feel like myself again, like I’ve regained my footing.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “I have to pee!”

  The smoke stopped swirling. The clouds giggled. I started crying. Dad didn’t care. He didn’t stroke my hair or wipe my eyes.

  A People Steeped in Common Sense

  “Let’s put a bullet in his head!”

  Snot flew out of Auntie Seher’s nose when she yelled that. She pulled her salwar all the way up to her boobs. Pointing, she yelled again.

  “What else can we do? Let’s shoot that dog in the head!”

  Nobody said a word. Pulling Auntie Seher by the arm, Birgül Abla tried to get her to sit in a chair.

  “Easy, Seher Abla. Calm down.”

  “Let go, Birgül! Let me go. You’d understand if you were a mother. Let’s kill him, Vedat! I won’t know peace until we do.”

  Everybody in the hall of the cooperative went quiet. Even Mustafa Abi the grocer. But before that, he was kind of crying as he talked.

  “Let me go. I’m begging you, Vedat. I swear on the life of my family, of my baby, that I’ll never come back to the neighborhood again.”

  When nobody else said anything, he stopped talking, too.

  The day before, in the morning, Birgül Abla gathered with all the aunties. They were telling each other about the Maraş Massacre. Birgül Abla was wearing trousers under her skirt and a scarf on her head. She’s trying to dress like us. But her shoes are different. She put her hand on her hip when she talked.

  “And that’s why we need to take our own self-defense seriously. As you can see, the law doesn’t protect the oppressed. As if it weren’t bad enough that the state’s arming and training Grey Wolf commandos, they’re not rounding up a
ny of those responsible for the massacre. That’s why we must be completely self-reliant, not dependent on help from anyone, and why we must always remember that the law is designed to protect the bourgeoisie and can never be trusted.”

  Vedat Abi and the men were gathered at the cooperative. There were tables set up in front. Vedat Abi was “talking inside his mouth” again. That’s how my mom put it. He was playing with his mustache, his hand blocking his mouth. Everyone was trying to hear him, so they poked their heads up to the right and up to the left, like they were watching a movie they couldn’t see.

  “Now … The government decision on Maraş leaves no doubt that all the might of the state …”

  I couldn’t understand the rest, so I ran back to Birgül Abla and the aunties. They weren’t done yet. Auntie Seher was talking to Birgül Abla, and my mom and I went over to them.

  “Birgül, a call came to the corner grocer. That’s how I know.”

  “Did Cem say anything important?”

  “No, just that he would call me on the grocer’s phone come night. I waited outside the grocery until morning, but the phone never rang.”

  “He didn’t have a chance to call. Look, your son’s on the run. We’ll have to wait for his call. Except for the grocer, who knows about this?”

  “Nobody.”

  “I’ll still get my friends to ask around in Istanbul.”

  “Sure, do that. Ask around. Sure.”

  Auntie Seher’s rubbing and squeezing her hands together, first one, then the other. It makes a shush shush sound. Her hands are dry and red, from all the laundry she does for rich people. Mom gives Auntie Seher a little poke with her elbow.

  “Come on, stop gnawing at yourself. Your boy managed to dig his way out of prison. He’s not going to get caught now, out in the open.”

  Auntie Seher made a small smile. She went home without another word. Mom and Birgül Abla looked at each other. I knew something bad was going to happen. I felt it right away. There are three old aunties, and one of them is Gökhan’s granny. All three of them have this veil over their eyes, a bluish white covering. They can’t see, but they knit nonstop. They stick their balls of wool in their salwars, and their knitting never ends. That day, they sat in the shade and knitted. And while they knitted, they wailed for Maraş.

  Dad and the other men cursed a lot. They tugged at their mustaches. They listened to Vedat Abi. I sat in the garden and listened to all the sounds. I closed my eyes so I could hear better.

  The cranes fly high over Maraş

  Broken-winged, circling and crying

  Mothers whose brave boys have been shot

  Are bleating like ewes to their lambs

  “Death songs won’t get us anywhere, brothers. We need to take action.”

  “That’s easy enough to say, Vedat, but what difference would it make if we did some kind of protest here in the neighborhood? If we’re going to demonstrate, we need to do it right in the middle of Kızılay Square.”

  “Hasan Abi, those who look, see.”

  “That’s true, Vedat. But they need to see us out there, too.”

  O friend, O wounded friend

  Blood flows in times of tyranny

  Today, the true-hearted are giving up their lives

  And the false-hearted are holding wedding parties

  “Aliye Abla, this grocer—”

  “I was just getting to him, Birgül. I like Mustafa. He’s a good fellow. He’s been kind to us when we were in need, but lately—”

  “His behavior has been a little odd, hasn’t it?”

  “One of the women told me. Strangers are going in and out of his grocery. They’ve got walkie-talkies. I knew you trusted him, so I shrugged it off.”

  “Aliye Abla, I trust him until you say otherwise. I mean, I’m something of an outsider in this neighborhood. What matters is that you trust him.”

  “Birgül, we’re kind of ignorant, the whole lot of us. Until we set up the cooperative, his was the only place to shop. And when we had no money, he let us buy on account. He was the most popular guy in the neighborhood.”

  “Well, what do you think about this phone call business?”

  “I don’t want to talk behind anyone’s back or blame an honest man, but Mustafa’s been acting strange lately. He’s always got one eye on the ground and one on the sky. What do you think happened with Seher’s son? He got caught, didn’t he? You and the others will figure out what to do.”

  The dead were burned, the living were not

  Children suffer, mothers weep

  Seas are vast, droplets splash

  Mahirs never end, new Sinans are born*

  Why do you sorrow so, mountain of Maraş?

  The three old aunties were still knitting when evening came. They don’t know it’s dark, and keep knitting. Later, at night, the other women come and take them home. They think it’s dark in the morning, too. That’s why they sing folk songs. So they’re not scared of the dark.

  I looked at over at Auntie Seher’s house. Their candles were still burning when I fell asleep. The last thing I remember is Mom and Dad talking in the dark.

  “It’s hot, Hasan. Leave me be!”

  “I haven’t so much as touched you. I’m hot too.”

  “Well, stop moving around. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, you start kicking.”

  “Listen here!”

  “What?”

  “This Mustafa business is serious. Do you realize that?”

  “I was going to say that. He’s been acting all guilty for the longest time. And today Birgül told me that one of the—”

  “I heard her. Dürüst was trying to tell me something the other day. I didn’t pay him any mind.”

  “Hasan, what did that madman say now?”

  “He looked at me, all serious, and said, ‘Still waters get mossy. Beware storekeepers.’”

  “We all say he’s crazy, but maybe Dürüst’s on to something.”

  “Could be.”

  “These mosquitos keep biting me. But they leave you alone.”

  “Why would they be interested in me when there’s a tasty bite right next to me?”

  They laughed for a while. Then we all fell asleep.

  Auntie Seher woke us up in the morning. The sun wasn’t up yet. The sky was blue-black. Auntie Seher screamed like a torn sheet.

  “No! My heart’s breaking. No!”

  Birgül Abla was trying to hold on to Auntie Seher. She was outside, tearing at her salwar, beating on her legs.

  “Cem! My boy, Cem! What have they done to you?”

  Birgül Abla and some other revolutionary sisters are trying to put their arms around Auntie Seher, but because she’s fat one swing of her arm knocks them all to the ground. They get up and try again. They all fall again. When they try to pull Auntie Seher to her feet, she gets up so fast the others fall. Mom runs over, still in her nightgown. Auntie Seher hugs her, then collapses on the ground, crying and yelling.

  “Aliye! The Wolves caught my Cem, they tortured him, then they hogtied him … Aliye, they tossed his body in a ditch, like a dead dog. Aliye!”

  Other women come running up, still in their night clothes, and gather around Auntie Seher. The three old aunties come too, and sit in the garden. They make sounds like birds. It’s like the night never happened, like morning never came again, as they sing the death songs of the day before. The balls of wool rest in their laps, but they don’t knit. Time has stood still this morning.

  God, mightiest of mighty

  God of day and night

  God in name only

  God of nothingness, you seem

  Vedat Abi talked to the women. He went down to the bottom of the hill with two uncles. Then I saw them walking with Mustafa the Grocer. He kept shouting. They held Mustafa Abi by the arms and climbed up the hill. “What do you mean, a trial?” Mustafa Abi yelled. “Are you saying I’m a traitor?”

  I couldn’t hear what the others were saying. They kept pulling him, and
he kept jerking his arm away. They all got sweaty. Especially Mustafa Abi.

  Some of the women walked behind Mustafa Abi. Until nightfall, Auntie Seher kept quiet and kept quiet, and then screamed and screamed.

  Vedat Abi stuck Mustafa Abi in the cooperative. He stayed in there with him all day long. Then the news came. The women said there would be a trial at night. Me and Dad went to it. Chairs were brought from houses. They made Mustafa Abi sit in the middle.

  Vedat Abi tugged at his mustache the whole time. The uncles sat in the front row with their arms crossed. They looked at Mustafa Abi like they didn’t know him. Everybody was shouting at him.

  “The cooperative turned you into our enemy. Is that right, Mustafa?”

  “You’re the only one who talked to Cem. Did he tell you where he was?”

  “Who are those men who visit your store? Huh? And why do they have radio phones?”

  “The whole time you were handing out paper money—”

  “Let’s not go into that, brother.”

  “Did Cem tell you where he was, or not?”

  Mustafa Abi didn’t answer any of their questions. Finally, he lifted his hands and spoke, looking at each of the uncles, one by one.

  “Hasan Efendi, when your house burned down, didn’t I help? Sister Nuran, every time your baby needed milk, didn’t I give it to you on credit? You should all be ashamed of yourselves. When I think of all I did for you!”

  “Hold on, Mustafa! Don’t go mixing things up. If we knew anything for sure, we wouldn’t be having a trial.”

  “What are you going to do? Kill me? Who do you think you are? The state?”

  Everyone went, “Ohhh.” Mustafa Abi didn’t get up from his chair, but he waved his hands in everyone’s faces.

  “You’re living in a dream world. You think you’re going to have a revolution and take over the state. How? How many are you? All that work you did to start a cooperative, and what do you have to show for it? A couple of sacks of rice. That’s it! You’re going to overthrow the government with your women and your children? What a joke! They’d laugh in your face!”