|There Is Nobody Around|
Our voices become a hell for the Gods
Until we conquer the endlessness
Let us all remain silent
As the sun was setting at a distance, slowly and silently, fear was entering the house. Fear started to settle everywhere, in each corner of the house silently. It was sneaky, fickle. The treacherous night would appear revealing its naked face within half an hour. They were making preparations inside, anxiously. The kitchen was like an arsenal for the night. A small spark would make the house become a heap of ashes. Four children. They are competing with each other to destroy the bombs. The knives, forks and all the incisory weapons with sharply pointed ends are being gathered and hidden under the beds or in the balcony. The housewife too is gathering all the mines and explosives scattered around the living-room. She is murmuring a folk song at the same time:
“I dwell in this far away land, have a head ache, feel dizzy,
My bread and soup is served only if I pay,
If only my brave brother would be by my side”
All of the deadly weapons, as if they had already been destroyed, were just lying motionless, side by side, on the beds. Their backs were not leaning against the pillows. Their legs were hanging down from the sides of the beds. They were expecting to hear the loud knock on the door. They were listening very carefully. Their lips were moving wildly to say all the prayers that they knew. When the children were searching for the answers of the difficult questions that could only be answered by God himself, the Lady of the House, reacted to their attitude in a serious but a compassionate tone and said:
-Be quiet! You shouldn’t have behaved like that. You should be polite. God is testing your patience. Do you want to become crippled because of your impudence?
The eldest of the answered:
- Have we done anything wrong to God? Why has he chosen us for testing?
They try to avoid each other’s looks in order to be able to hide the power of the night. They don’t speak. They wish whatever should happen to happen, and come to an end. Every night this expectency sinks heavily deep down into their hearts.
“It comes and goes, never cry,
You know, spring arrives after winter…”
“Sorrow comes not singly, it flows,
Exhausted, worn out, left bare foot”
Just as he was ready to eat the boiled rice with his spoon, changing his mind, he decides to dive into the soup with the spoon. He says all of a sudden:
-Isn’t there any fork in this houe?
-Is it you to decide with what I will eat more easily? Get out! Bring a fork!
-The forks are dirty my dear…., what if you eat with a spoon?
-This word ‘dear…’ becomes a challenge, as in an invitation to a war. The mumbles and grumbles:
-And, you now say ‘dear…’, eh?
The redness on his cheeks was as if blood pouring out of his eyes. He grabbed the spoon tightly with his fist. While he was trying to balance his body that was swinging and swaying, his hand opposed to and refused to obey his will. It hit the head of the Housewife. It came down on the head of the Wife. Once again and again. While the blond hair of the woman was being dyed in crimson, the children tried to get the spoon out of the fist of the man by force. Now the woman’s hair was wound around the man’s hand. Her weak, thin and small body was swung towards the bed. It hit the floor and the table. The plastic plates flew up in the air and then scattered all over the floor. The man threw away a small amount of golden hair that was wound around his fist. And when the women tried to stand up…His palms turning into two fists, hit her body. Once again and again.
There was fire in every section of the house. In every corner. The children were struggling, twisting and turning and moving their arms and legs convulsively. The cries and screams were rising in the air and pouring out of the house and filling in the streets growing larger and larger. The young people being chased after in the streets, the brushes of paint scattered all over the street, plastic cans of paint, half written words and sntences on the walls of the houses. They had all lost the hopes of being completed. They have all intermingled. A young man in one corner of the street, cowering in fear, having been surrounded, getting kicked, trying to protect himself with his hands. The screams of the streets rising high into the sky. The rain drops, from the sky, were falling down to the street, lonely and silently.
Nobody is around. The neighbours have all locked their doors tightly. The volumes of the televisions were turned to their highest. They were playing the game of ‘we didn’t hear anything and we didn’t see anything’. The police was working overtime, at night. The police was trying to clean the blood of the students left on their billies. The blood was as if it was glued on the billies. It could not be cleaned any more.
And the prayers? The meaning of the prayers are totally unknown. They are uttered only for the sake of God, and only to call for help!
(ÖZCAN, Tekgül, 2005, Hiç Kimseler Yok “There is Nobody Around”, translated into English by Aysu ERDEN)