Story for March 2020 by Yakup ALMELEK

Hatice stayed at home by herself for one month but then decided there was no joy in staying alone for the rest of her life. Grandmother was gone now, and her neighbour Ayşe. Without them, life was very dull. She also returned to the village and bought a house there with her money.

Hatice lived in Kurtuluş in Istanbul. She worked as a janitor for a 6-storey apartment there, a job she had done for 5 years.  She was happy.  She loved the people living  in the apartment and they were pleased with her. In the fourth year she had gone to her village to see her father and had come back to the city with a man. That man had joined his life with Hatice’s in a ceremony conducted by an imam or Muslim cleric. This was the traditional way of getting married even during the first years of the Republic so Hatice thought it was all in order. Hatice’s father had given his daughter to the man and had received two oxen and two sheep in return. This exchange had made him very happy. The money or goods given by the bridegroom to the girl’s father is called the bride-price today. 

Hatice’s husband was a very handsome man. Once there was an American actor called Clark Gable-that’s who he looked like. He was handsome but he was a devil. Maybe it was because he had given his faher-in-law four head of cattle that he began to beat Hatice so often. Hatice accepted this as it was the way she had been brought up by her elders, who used to say, “The man who loves his wife will  beat her.” 

Five years after they got married the man told Hatice he missed the village and was going back to see what was going on there before coming back. He didn’t even ask Hatice if she would like to go with him. He just got a ticket on the inter-city bus and left. When Hatice  said, “ I’ll miss you, please write to me,” he had replied, “You don’t know how to read or write so there’s no  use  writing  you a letter.”  When Hatice asked if she might ask one of the old lady’s grandchildren, with whom she was on very good terms, to read it to her the man didn’t answer and was not at all pleased at being asked this question. The man departed and Hatice was left alone. Hatice was happy he had gone to the village, saying that every one missed the place where they were born and raised. 

One month went by, two months went by, six, eight, ten months with no letter, no news from the man who had gone away. A week before the year was up, he came back. He came back -but not alone.  With him he brought a beautiful 17-year- old girl named Zeynep. The man told Hatice, “See here, you are my Number One Woman, Zeynep is my Number Two. We’ll all live together. Sometimes I’ll sleep with you, sometimes with Zeynep.. You’ll both treat each other well. If there are any quarrels, I’ll beat the two of you into pulp.” What could Hatice say? These words left her lips: “Zeynep is 17 years old and could be my daughter, I’ll take good care of her.” As for Zeynep, she looked daggers at her husband but said not a word. 

Three days passed and then the Husband said to Hatice, “Tonight I’m going to  make love with Zeynep. You will watch.” “Do whatever you want with Zeynep,” Hatice retorted ,” but I’ll close my eyes.” On hearing this the man got to his feet and was about to beat Hatice. Then he heard Zeynep shout, “Don’t you dare beat her. If you touch Hatice, I’ll stick this butcher’s knife into your heart. Sit down and listen to me. From now on you will not touch either me or Hatice. If you need a woman go to Abanoz. If you need the  money we’ll give it to you. If you lift a finger to either of us, your death will be by my hand or mine by yours. Do you understand?  I’m much stronger than you, anyway. See my muscles? Why did I let you beat me yesterday? Let me tell you something. The arm you beat is black-and blue. I don’t want my hands to touch blood but, if it happens, let it. If I have to, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll call the police who will take me first to the police-station and then to the prison. When I come in front of the Judge the State will find me a lawyer. I won’t really need one but never mind. ‘Your Honour,’ I’ll say, ‘ Lord Justice, he beat me, I can show you the bruises on my arm. Sir,’ I’ll say,’ I didn’t want to kill my  husband who the imam married me to for good or bad  but I was forced to defend myself. That’s why I screamed my head off yesterday so the neighbours would hear and be my witnesses in court.’ If you didn’t understand I’ll say it again. 

From now on you won’t touch either of us. If you want a woman, go back to the village and bring a third one into the house.”

The Husband listened  attentively to what Zeynep was saying. He tried to say something in return. “Shut you mouth,” said Zeynep.” If you interrupt me, I don’t know what I’ll say. You’re an ignorant man. You only finished primary school, I got to third grade in Junior High. My grandmother had me educated. It’s a pity that when she died, my father, may he rot in Hell,  took me out of school and sold me to you!”

The Husband understood that Zeynep had become a woman to reckon with. Again he tried to speak. Zeynep cut in, saying, “I’ve said what I wanted to. Now I’m going out to get some fresh air. That’s all I have to say.” Without looking at her husband or at Hatice, she opened the door and went out into the street.

The fresh air and the gentle breeze did her good but she was unable to hold back her tears. She cried and sobbed loudly. There was no-one around. Zeynep walked and walked. She dried her eyes, exceedingly happy that she had said what she did.  “If that man lifts a hand to either of us, I’ll send him into the next world,” she said to herself.  Maybe he’ll put himself in the graveyard by his own hand. Let him, let  him get whatever he deserves.”

She had a long life ahead of her. She was 17 and her husband was 40. He had a heart problem but paid no attention to it. “God willing, he’ll soon die,” she said. “Or, what if he kills me in my sleep?” The idea passed through her mind but she shrugged it off,  thinking, “If it’s in my stars, it’ll happen.”  

After walking for an hour she reached her apartment again. The Husband was sleeping soundly. Looking at him, Zeynep sighed thinking, “He’s a handsome man and he treats himself well enough, but he’s not a human being.” Hatice came up to her and took hold of her hand, kissing her as she did so and giving her a hug. ”What you said was good,” she told her. “It was very, very good. Well done.”  

The next day when they woke up no-one mentioned what had happened the evening before. They saw an improvement in their husband’s behaviour. Previously it was Hatice who had washed the steps of the six-storey apartment but she had always complained of how much her back ached. From that day onward, the Husband said, “Leave the stairs to me,” and took over this job from Hatice. 

Five years passed. The man never went near Zeynep, but when she was out he made love to Hatice. Three days a week Zeynep went to clean the apartment above, where Ayse hanım lived.  That was the time when Hatice and her husband were at home and slept together. Hatice didn’t hide this from Zeynep; she even went so far as to ask her permission. Zeynep only replied,” If you love the man, why not sleep with him?” It was true that Hatice was head over heels in love with her handsome husband. One day this man who had married both Hatice and Zeynep in a ceremony conducted by an imam, had a heart attack and went to his Maker. One couldn’t say that Zeynep was sorry but Hatice wept floods of tears. 

My grandmother lived in an apartment two floors above the one where Hatice lived. Hatice and she were great friends. Every day Hatice would visit Grandmother, clean the house and air the rooms. Many times my grand-mother offered Hatice money but Hatice wouldn’t take it. “If you give me any money,” she used to say, “I’ll never step foot in here again.” Sometimes Hatice called my grandmother ‘Mother’ and sometimes ‘my Lady.’ They loved each other very much and told each other everything.

The day came when my grandmother’s heart failed her and she died in her sleep. It’s said that those who die in their sleep are good people. I think my grandmother was one who deserved that to be said of her. Both Hatice and Zeynep mourned her death. 

My grandmother had seven children, four girls and three boys. There are seven days in a week and each of the seven children visited her in turn on a different day of the week. They would have a meal with her before returning home. The children wept many tears over their mother’s sudden death, but what could be said other than, “May God’s will be done.”

Fifteen days had passed after my grandmother’s death when, after lunch one day, her eldest son, Izak, rang the bell of the apartment where Hatice lived. When Hatice saw Izak, she was very surprised but asked him to come in. As Izak was drinking his coffee he told her of his mother’s last wishes. While in good health she had said to her children, “After I die, you children will sell this apartment I live in and share the money between you. That’s what I want you to do. There are seven of you. When you sell the apartment I want you to divide the money into eight parts and give one of the parts to Hatice. This is what we’ve done.” Izak continued,“ My mother knew the name of your bank and your account number. We sold the apartment and divided the proceeds into eight parts. Here, take this, it’s your bank deposit slip.” 

Hatice listened to Izak in amazement before saying, “ That’s not right. I’ve done nothing to deserve this money. Your mother left it to you, her children.”

“No,” Izak said.”  “Not only were you my mother’s friend but you were her greatest helper. My siblings, as well as me, wish you to take the money with our blessing. I must tell you one more thing,” Izak added. “As you don’t know how to read or write the bank manager came up with this solution. When you take out Money, use your thumb as your signature. Each time you do that, the bank manager will phone me and I’ll check you account. Now I’ll say goodbye. Enjoy spending the money.” As he was going out of the door, Izak turned and said, “Oh, by the way, Hatice, all my brothers and sisters say hello, and I’m to tell you they’ll drop by for coffee from time to time.” 

After Izak left, Zeynep, who had been listening to the conversation from the start, hugged Hatice joyfully and said,” Well, my girl, you’ve become a rich woman.” 

Another fifteen days passed. Then Zeynep said to Hatice, “Hatice, since the first day I came to İstanbul I’ve been longing to go back to the village, but, because of my father, I had to stay here. Now my father’s dead, too and I’m going back to the village. We have a field there and an orchard and I want to busy myself with them. I’ll earn money and use it to go to Ankara. I hear  there’s a man called Mustafa Kemal there. He was the greatest officer in the army. I’m told he says that a woman’s rights are sacred; that he got rid of Imam marriages and said that no man should have more than one wife. I’m going to kiss that man’s hand and put it to my forehead. I really, really want to see him.”

Hatice told Zeynep there was no need for her to go to the village; she would give her the money to buy a return ticket to Ankara. Zeynep refused to accept this. She was going to pay for the journey with the money she earned, and off she went to her village.

Hatice stayed at home by herself for one month but then decided there was no joy in staying alone for the rest of her life. Grandmother was gone now, and her neighbour Ayşe. Without them, life was very dull. She also returned to the village and bought a house there with her money. She saw Zeynep often, almost every day.

Hatice did another good thing for herself-–she went to school to learn how to read and write. It’s said that everyone can learn something new evey day, even if that person is over fifty years old. 

Yakup Almelek