15 Mart 2008 Cumartesi

Anahtarlar



Birkac ay once yeni bir anahtarlik aldim. Ama eskisinden yenisine anahtarlari gecirirken buyuk bir yanlislik yaptim - sokak kapisinin iki kilidi olur ya ve anlamazsiniz hangi anahtar ustu acar, hangisi alti (yoksa anlar misiniz?). Benim bunu anlamak icin kullandigim bir kucuk anahtarim daha vardi, 4 senedir de o kucuk anahtarin yaninda duran buyuk anahtar ustu acar. Iste anahtarlik degistirirken ne olduysa bu kucuk anahtar, alt kilidi acan anahtarin yanina gecivermis. O gun bugundur hayatim zor. Kafamda bu bilgiyi degistirmek icin neler yaptigimi bilemezsiniz. Aksamlari eve geliyorum, cantamdan anahtarlarimi cikariyorum ve durup dusunuyorum, simdi ustu hangisiyle acmam gerek, yaninda kucuk anahtar olan SIMDI alti mi aciyordu, yoksa ustu mu? Bu ne kadar daha boyle gidecekti, her aksam kapinin onunde durup bu konuyu dusunmekten deli oluyordum. Bu kadar basit birseyi nasil ogrenemiyordum ki! Bir suru ipucu denedim kolay hatirlamak icin, hicbiri ise yaramadi, artik bu hayatimda onemli bir sorun olmaya baslamisti, neden, neden tutamiyordum aklimda kucuk anahtarin artik ustu degil alti acan buyuk anahtarin yaninda durdugunu?!
Sonunda birsey buldum, aklima yatan ve ezberlemeden anahtar isini cozmemi saglayan bir ipucu; kucuk anahtar, yaninda durdugu buyuk anahtari agirlastirir ve asagiya dogru indirir, asagiya indigi icin de alt kilidi acar.
Anahtarlarim yuzunden aci cektigim haftalari Didem'e anlattim, 'degistirseydin ya' dedi, 'o kucugu cikarip eski anahtarliktaki yerine taksaydin ya.'

Oylece Didem'e baktim. Bunun neden benim aklima gelmedigini bilmiyorum.

2 Mart 2008 Pazar

The Zip




- Bu kucuk hikayeleri İngilizce yazmistim cunku yazdigim yerde paylastigim insanlar Turkce bilmiyordu ve bu hikayeleri okumak istiyorlardi, ozellikle bir İngiliz filozof... -

I was in a small shop, unbranded shop selling stuff. Clothes.

There was this middle-aged lady in front of me. Older than middle-aged. She was, I think, more than 50. It is becoming more and more difficult to guess people's ages.

She was looking at dresses. I was looking at dresses. The assistant showed her one. She liked it. She liked it very much. Then she realized the zip at the back. 'I live alone' I heard her say, 'I have noone to zip it for me'. I dropped all the dresses, looked at her face. She gave the dress back.

I live alone. I have noone to zip it for me.

This is the most sentimental, most dramatic, most crushingly poetic expression I have heard recently.

Accordion Players



6 Ocak 2007


All through summer and fall, every Saturday, a girl and a boy of about sixteen came to the street my house is on, playing accordion. The first time they 'appeared' I was sitting on the couch, reading a book, suddenly I heard a sweet melody. My first instinct was thinking I was dreaming of the music, it was on my mind. They were playing a familiar tune, a light-hearted melody, reminding me of merry-go-rounds.

The girl played the accordion, the boy was looking at the windows of the houses and collecting the few money people threw at them. It was always a sad scene, contradicting with the happy notes they radiated on a sunny summer morning.
The significance of this in my life was their sudden entry with such a pleasant surprise; happy accordion notes all over the place as if you are in the midst of a Marquez book or a Fellini film. No invitation, no intention of being exposed to such a scene, but their just walking into the street magically, playing their music and leaving from the other end slowly. I often felt tears rushing to my eyes due to the unusuality of the moment.

Week after week they came and I kept this to myself as if they were some angels from heaven, brushing a color of pink on an otherwise gray picture, until one day, a friend told me about the young accordion players that came to their street, playing their sweet music.

I never saw them again...
.

The Tailor



17 Aralik 2006


2 weeks ago I went to the tailor's for a couple of amends I needed on some clothes. That was an errand I postponed for a while so having it done symbolised a lot to me; like having control of my personal life, like doing something to increase the quality of my life. Things like that.

Like all back street tailors', this one was a very old-looking place, both from the inside and outside. An ancient radio. Old chairs. An old newspaper cutting on the wall. Why? I got close and read it, an old news telling about a fire that had taken place on the street many years ago. I remembered that one vividly. Obviously the tailor did as well. I pitied him. Having to work in this so old place, this old life.

There was a woman in front of me, describing in detail how exactly she wanted her clothes to be done. I watched her carefully and in patience for some minutes. Only three pieces, but she had so much directions to give about them. I admired her.

She left. The old tailor asked me what he could do for me.

I emptied my bag; a dress, a handbag, three pants..

I started telling the tailor what I wanted him to do to each of them... as detailed as I could like the lady before me.

Just about the third piece, the tailor raised a hand; ''maam, this is too much. I can't manage all of these. ''

I stopped and looked at him.

''You brought too many items. If everyone brought as many items as you did, how could I finish all of them? How could I serve everybody?'' He was showing the clothes on the shelves behind him, all waiting to be amended. He was like the poor girl in the tale that was stuck up in a room by the king to turn the roomful of straw into gold till dawn.

I was too surprised to speak. Yes, I have a strange shyness in dealing with this type of fellows; tailors, butchers or hairdressers but this was something else. He was refusing to work more to earn more!

''I am sorry I don't understand. '' I said. ''I need all these five pieces to be done.''

''I can't do all of them'' he said. ''I am sorry.''

''OK, tell me what I should do. Tell me what people do.'' I said.

''You could bring in three pieces, then when you come to take them on Monday, you could bring in another three pieces.'' He looked so sure of himself, of his labour philosophy, obviously woven in years. I was trying to hold back my laughter.
''Well, take your time. '' I said. ''I don't need them for Monday. If you like you can choose three pieces, finish them till Monday and go on with the rest in the coming days.''

''All right then..'' He looked relieved. ''So what about this dress?''

When I went there on Monday to collect my three pieces, he said he finished all five..