My mother the Angel (Melek) - II

Year 1913, at the wake of the French revolution, national uprisings have been tearing apart the Ottoman Empire. Balkan wars are over leading the way to World War One. Grece and more so Crete, which had never fully submitted to the Ottoman invaders are in turmoil, "boiling over". Greek nationalists, who had suffered under Ottoman fist for centuries are rising up in revolt. There is the Ottoman clergy, who had controlled and converted masses of Greek peasants to Islam. There is the diminishing Ottoman miletary, which is being pulled out of Crete and Greece leaving those fought against local nationalists or collaborated with the Ottomans to their own destiny. The Greeks, who had converted to Islam under the sometimes brutal pressure of Ottoman ck=lergy and miletary have come to be known as Turkos. Akthough Turkoi Greeks and christian Greeks, when left to their own devices had lived side by side as good neighbors, times have changes: The loyalists, never converted to Islam, ousted and brutalized by Ottomans, stood their ground no matter what and have been massacered in scores in their monesteries and forts they tried to defend time and time again. The British certainly sees a great opportunity in these local uprisings. At least in the Aegean region in Anotolia, British aircraft drops agitative flyers against Turks over Greek villages, and against their Greek neighbors over mainly Turkish villages to trigger Greek Ottomans to turn against the Turks and sharpen fear in the hearts of Turks to turn against their neighbors. Why wouldn't that have happened in Crete. Many books and films have been created by both Turkish and Greek authors and fil makers, sometimes in collaboration to share wiht the world what autracities and miracles of humane care came out of that time on both sides. Roles had changed in Cretenat the turn of teh 20th century. The once in danger Greek loyalist nationalists are now getting stronger and stronger, when the Ottoman clergy and the converted Turko-Greekss find themselves in danger of massacre. Both my mother's and father's people happened to be Turkos and Ottoman clergy. My father's entire ancestry and my mother's paternal side were all Turkos, descendents of Greek peasants converted to Islam. My maternal grandmother's lineage on the other hand consisted of Ottoman clergy, assigned to Xhania by the Ottomans. They all fell into the two groups that had to leave Crete. , otherwise... I grew up hearing stories from the paternal side of my family that had they not left Crete right away, the loyalists would have "cut our throats". Irony is that, their christian Greek neighbors told my Turko ancestors thay had better leave that night "tomoorrow, they are coming to cut your throats". So they leave, on a ship in 2013 heading to the other side of "The Water", meaning The Aegean. My father's family finds their way to Torbali and Izmir, my mother's to Ayvalik and Edremit, all along the Aegean coast. My paternal grandparents and maternal grnadfather were adolescents when they completed the voyage in probably British ships! My mother's mother was a 10 month old infant. Their parents were all given land equivalent to what they had in Crete to farm. They all go into olive farming. My mother's maternal side turns out to have the largest land given to them, considering their clergy background, they must have served themselves well in a land they were occupying. Yet, the pain of having to leave their own land, moving to foreign land under pressure and crisis circumstances, and world war I that follows their voyage leave such drastic scars on all of them, even the fourth generation of my ancestry is still dealing with this intergenerational complex trauma. And this blog will be the story of this multigenerational journey on both sides of The Water for some time...

My mother the Angel (Melek) - I

My mother the Angel (Melek) - I My mother’s name is Melek: literally “Angel”. Few people live up to the meaning of their name. My mother did, through and through. The cleaning lady coming to our house was her guest at the breakfast table. They would clean the house together all day long, lunch together, and do afternoon tea before it was time for her to leave. My mother would make sure to pack food for the lady’s children to take home. She was the to-go-person and mentor for many a young women in the neighborhoods that we lived throughout my childhood into my young adulthood. I remember a construction worker, Bayram and his wife, Saniye, who had moved to our neighborhood from their village in a remote and poor province in Anatolia with their skinny son, Cengiz. They were living in a dark studio in the basement of the next-door house. My mom took Saniye under her wings and not only taught her how to read and write but also how to knit and crochet, two of many talents, my mom had mastered. Saniye, under the loving guidance of my mother, learned how to be a better woman, mother, wife, and neighbor; I could observe, even with the limited understanding of an 8–11 year old girl. Saniye starte3d getting dressed not like a countryside woman, but as a working class urban woman; she wasn’t screaming at her son with his wrongdoings after a while, but redirecting him lovingly, she learned to speak Izmir Turkish and gained the respect of the other neighbors, all I could tell was due to my mom's influence on her. There’s no end to the stories about how angelic she was to her neighbors, to some of whom she taught how to cook, for some she made dresses, for others, she knitted sweaters, on and on it goes… The elderly in both my mother’s and father’s side of the family enjoyed my mother’s excellent nursing skills and loving care at the end of their lives; my paternal grandmother, my paternal two great-aunts, my paternal aunt, and finally, my maternal grandmother, who lived with my mother for the last two years of her life with her terminal stage colon cancer. Her home and summer house were always pristine clean that disseminated light and peace. Not only that, she was omnipresent in even the homes of her three adult children with whatever was needed thanks to her bigger than life heart, endless energy, and boundless love. Whenever I invited my friends over to have dinner at my house, her angelic invisible touch would appear at my house and prepare the most delicious dishes the day of and before the dinner party. Her home was open to my friends, most of whom knew my mother intimately, who enjoyed many a dish, unique to our Cretan cuisine at her kitchen and always returned to have more of it over the years. Then, an unfortunate accident left my dear angel disabled, unable to use one half of her body with poor short term memory and she became a dependent adult. The accident left her with less than optimal inner resources to deal with this most difficult task one can experience. Becoming physically dependent on others would require drawing such humility and letting go to trust and leave the care of her body to others, which my mother's cortical brain could not accomplish. The need to control her life was diminished to smoking as much as she pleased and her elimination functions. Mama, you spent the last 20 years of your life with this disability since 2002. One half of my brain says with the voice of the adult that I am, "You challenged life with such fierce passion when it challenged you Mother, to persist with as much dignity as you could muster despite the difficulties your disability imposed on you, it is time to rest in peace surrounded with all the light you deserve”. But the other side of the little girl in me that I cherish, sobs “I will miss you Mama, your soft hands, your eyes full of love, your hugs, despite my white hair, how safe I felt in your arms, the sparks reflecting your old self even in the last 20 years; I’ll miss you unbearably”. It’s been barely 48 hours since you left us. Do you know how many people already told me “Auntie Melek has a very special place in my heart” followed with unique experiences each had with you that I didn't even know. İzmir is lucky to have raised and seen an angel like my mother, who spread peace, happiness, and love to all those that she touched. Thank your mother, for being the woman you have been, for making me the woman that I am. Rest in peace and light, at last...