“And there’s hot stew!” Moug cried, carrying in a large pot wrapped in cloth and setting it down on a tablecloth in the middle of the room. “It’s your recipe, Ferida jan. Not too much salt. I made it myself.”
After Iskender had rejoined them and they had eaten, the family curled up to sleep on the floor, wrapped in their comforters. Tomorrow would see the beginning of their new lives. Khatoun was the last to retire and was still awake long after her family began to belch and snore, filling the room with their dreams.
She is convinced now that the scuttling overhead is a rat. The animal stops right above her and goes quiet. The moon slips her fingers in through the solitary window and a beam of light illuminates a crack in the plaster next to the rafters. Suddenly, two bright eyes appear and then a nose and then a face – small and white and innocent – a mouse.
“Hey, little Moug,” Khatoun laughs, “what news?”
The mouse freezes as Khatoun speaks and then it is gone again, thundering across the roof to its family. Khatoun is wide awake now. She knows it’s useless for her to try and sleep. On nights like these, the most peaceful thing is to get up and enjoy the time awake rather than fret in bed. She slips her feet into her shoes and shrugs on her jacket. Outside, she follows the narrow balcony to a small winding staircase that leads up to the roof. Someone has tied an old kilim across one corner of the terrace with bits of wire, creating a makeshift shelter. Underneath it there are several more kilims and half a dozen cushions. A forgotten tea glass lies dejected, a dead fly belly-up in the stale liquid. Khatoun settles herself under the little tent and pulls her jacket around her.
The moon is ripe, ready to burst. The city shimmers ahead as far as she can see. Aleppo, their new home. It smells of smoke and spices and dung and filth. Too many people and too many stories crowding in on each other, suffocating one another. Which old friends will she discover here and who in the new pack will prove to be real? The moon smiles down, a breeze plays with her hair. She slips her hand into the pocket of her jacket to retrieve her headscarf and finds, instead, a small bag. Perplexed, she holds it up to the light and laughs. It’s the same purse she tried to give to the gendarmes Abdallah and Aref earlier. She opens it. The gold coins are still there.
“No tips,” Abdallah of the magic fingers had said.
Khatoun smiles at the moon and holds the coins in her hand as she makes a wish, “But a handful of children for you, Abdallah, Insha’Allah. And may they live long.”
She stands up, crosses over to the balustrade, takes one of the coins and throws it up into the air. It spins, caught in the light of the moon and falls, clattering into the street below. Khatoun watches it roll into a corner by the gutter.
Who will find it? A mother? A child? A desperate man? A pockmarked and lazy whore? What does it matter? Even a pebble dropped into the driest of wells can ripple and swell and cause floods somewhere across the ocean. Everything has its purpose; every person we meet, every star that collides, every cloud that takes shape. Even that stranger we bump into at the market place and brush shoulder to shoulder without acknowledgement. Our actions – like the ocean waves, the breeze in our hair, a simple X inked onto a page or the toss of a coin into a dirty street – all may seem random, unpredictable and chaotic. But they are simply the effects of energy, the harbingers of change.
“Asdvadz bahe. God bless you,” Kahatoun sings out to her new home. “Halab. Alep. Aleppo. City of song. I am ready.”
[1] From A Hundred and One Hayrens, Nahapet Kuchak (Sixteenth Century), translated by Ewald Osers. Published by Sovetakan Grogh, Yerevan, Armenian SSR. Copyright 1979. Thanks to Gerald Papasian and Nora Armani; Sojourn at Ararat.
Index of foreign words
Word/phrase
Meaning
Agh!
Oh!
Amma
Mother
Araba
Horse drawn covered carriage
Arak
An alcoholic liquor mixed with water to drink
Asdvadz
God
Asdvadz Bahe
God bless you
Asdvadz hokin lousavore
May God enlighten his/her soul
Azan
Islamic call to prayer
Azdoo Peepuh
God’s eyeball
Babam
Turkish familiar term for father
Bayan
Lady. Form of address to high-ranking woman (Turkish)
Barab glir
Empty cock (Armenian/Turkish)
Bastourma
Seasoned, air dried Armenian cured beef
Begum
Islamic form of address to women of substance. Appropriated by Begum Şenay from Begum Samru, one of the richest women in history
Ben seni çok seviyorum
I love you very much (Turkish)
Boubrig
Term of endearment meaning little doll (Armenian)
Boutz
Armenian slang for vagina
Bulgur
A cereal made most often from durum wheat. It is partially boiled, then dried
Çaça
Colloquial term for a woman of low status and loose morals. A dancing girl
Çarshaf
Simple loose overgarment
Chette
Thief, brigand
Choereg
Traditional Armenian sweet bread
Digin
The Armenian title equivalent to Mrs
Divan
A long, low sofa without arms, typically placed against a wall
Djibour
Cricket
Dolma
Vegetables stuffed with rice, meat and spices
Douvagh
Armenian wedding veil
Dungulugh
Idiot (Armenian)
Efendi
Formal address to a man in Turkish. Sir
Ermeni
Armenian (Turkish)
Eshek
Donkey (Turkish/Armenian)
Eshek siksin
Fuck a donkey (Turkish)
Eshou botch
Donkey’s tail (Turkish/Armenian)
Gederderuhgederderuh
Blah blah blah
Giavour
Infidel (Turkish)
Goshigs
Little shoes (Armenian)
Gurush
Turkish money
Halvah
Sesame/tahini desert, often with embedded nuts
Hamam
The Turkish variant of a sauna
Hanum
Beloved; a form of address towards women in Turkey
Haremlik
Sequestered womens’ quarters, usually with separate doorway
Hokis
Armenian term of endearment meaning darling, my soul
Houri
Virgin
Hrshdugig
Little angel (Armenian)
Insha’Allah
God willing (Arabic)
Ibrik
Small pot for making coffee
Jan
Term of endearment meaning ‘love’ or ‘friend’ (Armenian)
Janavar
Term of endearment meaning ‘cheeky’ (Armenian)
Kaknem
I’ll defecate (Armenian)
Khan
Inn, collection of buildings where horses and people could rest
Kilim
A flat, woven Turkish rug
Kurabia
Armenian cookies dusted with sugar powder
Lokhoum
A confection of flavored gelatin coated with sugar; Turkish Delight
Mangal
Portable brazier
Masha’Allah!
An Arabic phrase indicating joy or praise. It is often said upon hearing good news
Mayrig
Diminutive form of ‘Mother’ (colloquial Armenian)
Menug parov
Goodbye (Armenian)
Meydan
Central marketpla
ce
Mgrdich tekrar oynamış!
A colloquial rhyme in Turkish meaning ‘Mgrdich still up to your old games!’
Muezzin
A man who calls Muslims to prayer from the minaret of a mosque.
Narghile
Water pipe
Oosht!
Shoo!
Orospou
Whore (Armenian)
Oyna
Play in Turkish
Pari louys
Good Morning (Armenian)
Park Asdoudzo!
Praise the Lord! (Armenian)
Petit Echo de la Mode
French fashion magazine
Pezevenk
Pimp (Turkish)
Pilaff
Rice cooked with vermicelli noodles
Pishti
A popular Turkish card game
Raki
A strong alcoholic drink made in the Middle East and Eastern Europe
Rojig
Solidified grape jelly preserve
Saz
A long-necked stringed instrument of the lute family, originating in the Ottoman Empire
Seferberlik
Law regarding mobilization, conscription and forced exile
Shalvar
A pair of loose-fitting pants
Shouniges
My little dog (Armenian)
Siktir git
Fuck off
Sis
Long metal fire poker
Soujouk
Armenian/Turkish dried cured sausage with garlic and spices
Souq
A commercial corner or market in an Arab city
Süslü püslü
Turkish for overdressed and gaudy
Tahn
Armenian yoghurt drink
Tango
Woman of loose morals. A dancing girl
Tantig
Term of endearment meaning ‘auntie’ (French/Armenian)
Tavli
Greek backgammon
Teskere
Travel permit
Tonir
Clay bread oven
Vay!
Wow/oh/ow!
Vordevan
Armenian slang for homosexual
Yerkchouhi
Singer/songstress
Yallah
Come on/Let’s go (Arabic)
Zankagadoun
Armenian for belfry
Zurna
A woodwind instrument
Other great books by Armida
http://www.amazon.com/armidapublications
About the Author
Victoria Harwood Butler-Sloss is Armenian-English and grew up on the island of Cyprus. She began her career as a dancer at the world famous Raymond Revuebar, trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and spent twenty years as an actress in TV, film and theatre in London. After getting married she moved to Los Angeles, started a family, continued to work in voiceovers and wrote her first opus, a trilogy beginning in the Ottoman Empire in 1895, following four generations of women until the present day. The Seamstress of Ourfa, is the first. She has also produced two short films, Cyprus Summer 1974 and A Flock of Birds, based on a chapter from the book. She currently lives in Los Angeles.
The Seamstress of Ourfa Page 33
