April 15, 2001 - Hakkari
Gökçen stared blankly at the program on television.
This program wasa favorite of her mother and Aunt Neslişah. She would have preferred a soap opera to this. It was supposedly her birthday today. She had turned seven,but she wasn't having any funl. Her father hadn't come. She had wanted to blow out the candles with him, but as usual, he had work to do. The little girl was extremely bored. "Mom, I blew out all the candles on mycake. Why hasn't Daddy called yet?" she asked her mother, who was sitting next to her.
Leyla looked at her daughter with a bitter smile. "He'll call soon," was all she could say.
Her husband, Ali, was a soldier. He couldn't be with her most of the time. She had cried so much on the way here from Izmir with her tiny baby in her arms that she never thought she would ever get used to it. But fate had brought her someone like Neslişah. Their apartments were across from each other. Neslişah's husband, Yusuf, was also a soldier. In fact, their wives had been friends since their time in the military. After their military service ended, everyone had to return to their hometowns to pursue their careers. But fate had brought them together again here; they had started working at the same police station. Just like their wives, Leyla and Neslişah had been inseparable for years, sharing everything. They were companions to each other in this desolate city.
They were considered the same age, but Neslişah's children were older. She had two daughters, one fourteen and the other thirteen, and a nine-year-old son: Aslıhan, Gülhan, and Murathan. Leyla's whole life revolved around her only daughter, Gökçen, who was six years old. Now she was seven months pregnant. She was expecting a son. In their husbands' absence, this was the only thing that comforted them: their children, each a part of their spouses...
"It happened a little while ago. Why hasn't he called yet, Mom?" Gökçen repeated her question.
"Count ten more in a moment, Gökçen," Neslişah said, smiling at the little girl. "Then your father will call."
"Okay," said Gökçen with sweet enthusiasm. "I'll count ten more then." She settled back into her chair and fixed her gaze again on the large clock opposite. The long, red hand would move ten times, and then it would be ten.
"Mom, look, I'm Memoli now!" Murathan exclaimed, leaping into the middle of the room and interrupting her countdown. He eagerly tried to show off his black hair, which he had combed back and secured tightly with lemon juice. Gökçen instantly grinned. She didn't need ten more "amens" anymore. Her greatest entertainment had arrived: Murathan and his big ears..
Neslişah smiled at her son. "May God bless my little dark-haired boy," she said, affectionately stroking his cheeks. "He's just like Memoli, isn't he, Aunt Leyla?"
Leyla looked at the sight with a smile. Just as she was about to shower the meticulously styled hair with compliments, her little daughter Gökçen interrupted: "What Memoli?" she said mockingly. She giggled to herself. "You look like a gorilla, Kepçük. Your ears have gotten even bigger."
Leyla and Neslişah both let out disapproving sounds at the same time. Murathan glared at them from under his thick eyelashes, while Gökçen, sensing she was about to get a beating, had already stuck out her tongue and fled the room. Murathan chased after her at lightning speed. Their mothers' warnings had no effect on them whatsoever. As soon as he turned the corner of the living room, Murathan grabbed Gökçen's long hair. "I'll rip this out this time. You'll see!" he said angrily. But at the same time, Gökçen had also run her fingers through his carefully styled, thick black hair.
Neslişah smiled at her son. "May God bless my little dark-haired boy," she said, affectionately stroking his cheeks. "He's just like Memoli, isn't he, Aunt Leyla?"
Leyla looked at the sight with a smile. Just as she was about to shower the meticulously styled hair with compliments, her little daughter Gökçen interrupted: "What Memoli?" she said mockingly. She giggled to herself. "You look like a gorilla, Kepçük. Your ears have gotten even bigger."
Leyla and Neslişah both let out disapproving sounds at the same time. Murathan glared at them from under his thick eyelashes, while Gökçen, sensing she was about to get a beating, had already stuck out her tongue and fled the room. Murathan chased after her at lightning speed. Their mothers' warnings had no effect on them whatsoever. As soon as he turned the corner of the living room, Murathan grabbed Gökçen's long hair. "I'll rip this out this time. You'll see!" he said angrily. But at the same time, Gökçen had also run her fingers through his carefully styled, thick black hair.
"I'll rip yours off too."
Murathan pulled the girl's hair a little harder. "Let go, Pamuk!"
Similarly, Gökçen grabbed her hair. "You let go first, Kepçük!"
"Witch!" Murathan muttered, gritting his teeth. "Little dwarf!"
"Gorilla!" Gökçen exclaimed, just as angrily as Murathan. "That big-eared donkey."
Murathan was actually just holding her hair. He couldn't bring himself to pull it. But unlike him, Gökçen was perfectly capable of doing so. As if pulling Murathan's hair with all her might wasn't enough, she also tried to kick him in the legs, causing Murathan to jump away with each kick. He threw a kick back. It missed. Or perhaps he deliberately avoided it... Like someone who had turned around and started spinning around, they spun around in place, their hands still gripping each other's hair, trying to kick each other. Things were heating up.
They turned to a voice saying, "You look so funny," their hands still in each other's hair. Murathan's eldest sister, Aslıhan, was watching them with a camera in her hand. As they argued with the most serious expressions, the camera's flash went off in their face.
"Aslıhan sister, tell him to let go of my hair," Murathan said sharply.
"What difference would it make if she let go? You'd be fighting again in two minutes anyway. Just separate yourselves," Aslıhan said, and walked past them with an indifferent attitude. Their fights were now commonplace for everyone. Seizing the opportunity, Gökçen delivered a solid kick to Murathan's knee. Caught off guard, Murathan let go of her hair and clutched his knee in pain, while Gökçen had already fled. "Come here, you witch!" Murathan shouted after her.
"Catch him if you can," Gökçen's sarcastic voice came from somewhere inside.
A spectacular chase began at home. Gökçen was in front, Murathan chasing her, and they ran at least ten laps through all the rooms. After a while, this chase turned into a game, as usual. Nerves were forgotten; they were laughing and having fun.
"Let's play Tarkan," said Gökçen.
Murathan gave him a hesitant look. "No. Then you'll get bruises all over, Pamuk. And on top of that, you'll cry for two hours."
"Oh, but Murathan..." Gökçen whined. "I won't cry, I promise. Please let's play. Please! Please!" She clung to Murathan's arm like a leech.
Murathan grimaced. He placed his hand on Gökçen's forehead and tried to push her away. "Don't cling to me, girl."
According to Gökçen, this was all a game. As Murathan pushed her on the forehead, she stubbornly pressed her head against his hand like a goat, laughing and amusing herself. Then she stretched out her leg and delivered a solid kick to Murathan's buttocks from behind. "Traitor Kostok!" she shouted. She kicked him again.
"My daughter, why don't you ever play any girl games?" Murathan complained. "Go play with your dolls. Leave me alone."
Gökçen didn't even care. She continued running around Murathan, shouting, "Go, wolf!" Suddenly, the house rang, interrupting the little girl's fun. "My dad!" Gökçen exclaimed excitedly. She quickly ran into the living room, followed silently by Murathan. Entering the living room eagerly, the little girl saw her mother answering the phone. She immediately grabbed her hands. "Give it to me, Mommy! Give it to me! Give it to me!" She began hopping around impatiently.
Leyla smiled at her daughter's excitement. "Okay, my dear. Just wait a moment," she murmured first. She focused on the phone. She gripped the receiver tightly with both hands, as if it were something precious. "I'm giving it to Gökçen. May God protect you, Ali," she said with a bittersweet smile. Before she could say anything else, her impatient daughter snatched the receiver from her mother's hand and put it to her own ear.
"Father!"
"My beautiful daughter!" was the immediate reply.
Gökçen laughed. "I blew out lots of candles on the cake, Dad. And I did it all in one breath, just like you taught me."
"Well done, my daughter," Ali said proudly. "Happy birthday to my beautiful daughter."