Children of War by Ahmet Yorulmaz

Author:Ahmet Yorulmaz [Yorulmaz, Ahmet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781911107293
Publisher: Neem Tree Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

It was only during Ramadan that I skipped the Saturday night gatherings at Kiri Vladimiros’s house, prohibiting myself from my once-weekly indulgence in alcoholic drink. I might not have prayed regularly, but I always fasted. I always made sure I was home sitting with my mother at the table when it was time to break the fast. Naturally, I was tired when I came home from work during Ramadan. That was why at the beginning, whenever I was able to, I would go to the nearer Sultan’s mosque or the Algerian mosque for the evening Tarawih prayers. The latter had been named in memory of the Algerian soldiers brought to the island for the conquest of Crete. Later, towards the end of Ramadan, I usually found time to visit the other mosques of Chania. In 1913, after Crete was ceded to Greece, our biggest mosque, the Sultan’s mosque, was converted into the Church of Agios Nikolaos and the Waterside and Yusuf Pasha Mosques started to become almost as crowded as the Algerian Mosque.

Just as I said at the start, our Turkish identity and Islam were our greatest pride: everything else was insignificant. The prevalence of mosques in Chania was symbolic for us. There were plenty that I never had time to go to: Kastel, Ağa Mevlevihane, Kalekapısı and Kumkapı Mosques to mention just a few.

On Fridays during Ramadan, as I didn’t want to go too far from work, I used to pray at the Kastel Mosque, which was just up from the fountain. Unlike his wife, Kiri Vladimiros didn’t believe in God. Whenever I went to ask leave to go to the mosque, I could see him smiling, not just under his moustache, but with his eyes as well.

“That’s fine, Hassanaki,” he used to say. He never interfered in anyone’s personal business.

I was the only one in the printing house who knew he was an atheist. He used to talk about it at the table on Saturday evenings – things like that were never discussed at work. It would have been over-familiar with the employees, and not only that, but in all likelihood the rumour would have spread like wildfire until it reached the ears of the church, leading to condemnation and social and economic boycott. That would be enough to cause a successful businessman like him, with a family and reputation to uphold, to die of grief.

Ramadan brought an even livelier bustle to the streets of Chania. After evening prayers, Splantzia Square filled with people; it was a place of games that went on until the middle of the night, where people smiled and had fun, hoping to win one of the trays of baklava or lamb that were given as prizes. The square, frequented by Turks from all walks of life, was turned into a street festival full of tombolas, Ramadan conjurors, luxury treats and gas lamps that multiplied in honour of the month.

There was a particular atmosphere on each one of our public holidays. The Ramadan holiday was one thing and Eid-al-adha was something else.

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