Birds Without Wings (69 page)

“Yea, in your heart ye work wickedness, ye weigh the violence of your hands upon the earth, ye are estranged from the womb, ye go astray as soon as ye be born, speaking lies, thy poison is like the poison of the serpent, ye are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear.

“Schismatics of Rome, the Lord hath prepared a pit! He hath laid up a net to thy steps! Calamities shall overpass thee! Satan shall be loosed from his prison, and Gog and Magog shall go out to deceive the nations that are in the four quarters of the earth, to gather them together in battle; the number of them is as the sands of the sea, and fire shall come out of Heaven above the beloved city, and devour thee, and thou shalt be cast, yea, even the innocent and those as pure as babes, into the lake of oil and brimstone where the beast and the false prophet are, and thy flesh shall be divided from thy bones, for ye have not been found written in the book of life, and shall be cast into the flame!”

From this grandiloquent beginning Father Kristoforos was perfectly capable of improvising a good hour’s worth of pyrotechnics. When he felt his voice beginning to crack he would resort to shaking his fists, grimacing, and thrusting out towards them the silver cross that he wore about his neck. It is true to say that he derived very great satisfaction from this holy pursuit, and slept better than he ever had before in life. Lydia thought him much more serene and gentle in the home, and the congregation found his new publicly fiery behaviour very impressive indeed, so that his status among them was considerably elevated.

In those days, whenever the Christians discussed the presence of the Italians in the town, one would hear sentiments such as:

“Well, you never would have believed it, if Father Kristoforos hadn’t warned us.”

“Yes, they seem so nice, don’t they?”

“It just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

“The Antichrist, just fancy.”

“Terrible, isn’t it? They put something into the Creed when they shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I passed one yesterday, and I spat at his feet, and he gave me a look like the Devil, I can tell you.”

The Italians, of necessity at first, and then by inclination, fraternised solely with the non-Christians. The backgammon players moved their venue first to the courtyard of the khan, and then when Kristoforos found them, back to the meydan, and then down to the amphitheatre, and then to the Letoun.

Then, one day, after a very long and tedious rant from the priest which none but he could have understood, one of the gendarmes finally lost patience, leapt to his feet, turned about and pulled out his pistol.

He pointed it straight at the priest’s chest. For one petrifying moment Kristoforos thought that he was going to be killed, and words failed him altogether. Everyone in the meydan froze, and watched helplessly as they waited for the seemingly inevitable horror that was about to come to pass. The Italian soldiers, who had left their weapons locked up in the khan, wondered whether or not they should intervene, and Sergeant Oliva got to his feet with the reluctant intention of doing so.

Then the gendarme slowly lowered the weapon, and put it back into its holster. Grim-faced and still shaking with rage, he turned his back on the priest, and sat down to resume the game.

The priest stood still for a moment, and then realised that he was violently trembling. Suddenly humiliated by his own fear, dry in the mouth and dizzy, urgently aware that he was going to have to empty his bowels and bladder, he turned and left, perturbed and ashamed by the way in which his faith and determination had suddenly deserted him when faced by imminent martyrdom.

From that time Kristoforos sensibly left the Italians alone, but he never relented in his warnings to his flock. His troubled sleep returned, as did his disheartening dreams. His redemption would wait upon another day.

CHAPTER 77

I am Philothei (12)

When Ibrahim was young he was very funny. My little brother Mehmetçik and his friend Karatavuk could perfectly imitate robins and blackbirds on their birdwhistles, and this was very admirable, and this was how they called to each other, but my beloved could imitate all the different bleats of goats. I think it was because he was a goatherd, and he came to recognise all of these bleats as he became more experienced. Once he very nearly got into trouble for bleating when Abdulhamid Hodja was speaking, and fortunately Abdulhamid forgave him just in time to prevent a beating.

I have forgotten the names of some of these bleats, but they were things like the bleat of a goat who is looking for its kid, the bleat of a goat that has accidentally bitten on a stone, and the bleat of a goat that is unable to fart. He used to do these bleats for the entertainment of his parents’ visitors, and for anyone else who asked. He wasn’t shy about doing them.

As time went by he started to do bleats which were more and more absurd. The bleat of a goat that is thinking of becoming a Christian. The bleat of a goat that wishes to go to Telmessos and buy a waterpipe for its grandmother. The bleat of a goat that is too stupid to know how stupid it is. The bleat of a goat that had a good idea the day before and can’t remember what it was.

The best bleat of all was the bleat of a goat with nothing to say. I can’t describe it, but it’s a bleat that anyone would recognise straight away, because it’s the kind of bleat that goats do when they’re all together munching away among the rocks, and there really is nothing to say, but they bleat anyway. Ibrahim used to say that what the bleat probably meant was “It’s me.”

Ibrahim could do this bleat and just exaggerate it enough to make it very ridiculous, and he could do it in all sorts of versions and variants, and people never tired of hearing him do it, and it always made them laugh.

I used to go out and harvest wild plants at about the same time every day, and Ibrahim knew this, and he would leave the goats in the charge of his dog Kopek, and he would scramble over the rocks, and I would know that he was coming because he had a version of the bleat that was just for me, and his game was that he would try to get as close as he could before I could spot him, and then he would pop up from behind a rock or a thorny oak and do the bleat very loudly, and the expression on his face when he did it was really just like a goat’s.

It’s a miracle that we were never caught in all those years. The disgrace would have been unbearable, and I lived in a state of great nervousness. Quite often I went out to gather greens with Drosoula, and we trusted her not to tell anyone.

What I loved about Ibrahim was that he always could make me laugh, and because of this it didn’t matter that he was only a goatherd. I also loved it when I heard him playing the kaval.

These years of war have been utterly wearisome, and I can’t wait for the time when my beloved returns, and I hear the kaval again, and he pops up from behind a rock and bleats the bleat of a goat with nothing to say.

CHAPTER 78

Mustafa Kemal (18)

General Liman von Sanders once remarked that it was impossible to get Turkish officers to cooperate with each other because of their rivalries. In Samsun, nonetheless, Mustafa Kemal begins the difficult process of trying to bring about the impossible. The British catch on too late to what he is really up to.

Kemal’s task is to take advantage of Muslim anxieties. In the east, Kurds are worried about Armenians, as is the population of French-occupied Cilicia, to which Armenians are returning, intent upon revenge after their ill treatment during the Great War. In the west, Muslim refugees from the Balkan Wars, who have been rehoused in the homes of Greeks displaced in 1914, are now under threat from the return of those same Greek refugees. So many winds have been sown by previous stupidities and injustices on all sides that Mustafa Kemal now has several whirlwinds to reap. A British captain, L. H. Hurst, is sent to keep an eye on him, and Mustafa Kemal treats him politely but does not allay his suspicions. The British induce the government to recall Mustafa Kemal to Istanbul. He doesn’t go. He spends his time exploiting the country’s excellent telegraph system in order to set up the necessary contacts, and his activities become more political than military. He begins liaisons with irregular bands, which one might describe either as terrorists, bandits or freedom fighters, according to one’s own prejudices and inclinations. They were certainly not the kind of folk to be invited to the Pera Palace Hotel to meet one’s maiden aunt.

Armed resistance to the Greeks begins in the west, in response to the havoc and economic ruin brought about by the occupying Greek forces. A crucial point is approaching, as it is becoming more and more clear that the government in Istanbul is incapable of standing up to the Allies and defending Turkish interests. Sooner or later a new nationalist government has to be formed elsewhere. Kemal defies a ban by the government on his
use of the telegraph system, and threatens any uncooperative telegraphist with court martial. The turning point comes when Kemal and his fellow officers and dignitaries set up congresses in Erzurum and Sivas. The process begins of exploiting Bolshevik Russia’s hostility to the Allies, while remaining independent of it. The Istanbul government finds that it is powerless to remove him. He receives a missive from the Sultan, who says that he understands that Kemal is motivated solely by patriotism, that he doesn’t want to dismiss him, and perhaps he should take a couple of months’ leave. On 5 July 1919, Mustafa Kemal informs the War Minister that he is no longer serving the Istanbul government, but the nation.

On 9 July, the War Minister and Mustafa Kemal spend hours on the telegraph, and the latter resigns from the army as the War Minister simultaneously cashiers him. Kâzim Karabekir is appointed in his place as inspector of the 3rd Army, but stands by his comrade, and at a meeting of important leaders it is agreed that all should continue to take their orders from Mustafa Kemal even though he has been dismissed. Nonetheless, Kemal descends into despair because he feels he has lost his legitimacy, but this is abruptly relieved when Kâzim Karabekir arrives, salutes him, and informs him that he is still the commander. Karabekir has brought a cavalry escort and a car with him in order to prove his point. “Pasha, we are all at your service,” declares Karabekir.

There is a congress in Erzurum, and Kemal and Karabekir go to it together. A sheep is sacrificed, prayers are said, and democratic politics begin. Kemal is elected chairman, and he exercises his oratorical powers to good effect, talking of the state of the nation and its unjust subjection to the Allies. There are statements of loyalty to the Sultan, and already splits are appearing between modernisers and traditionalists. He borrows civilian clothes from the governor, in response to objections to having the chairman dressed as a general. The congress concludes with a charter which amounts to a declaration of independence.

Kemal is not pleased to have to work with such “miserable people” as the leader of a Kurdish tribe and a Nakşibendi dervish sheikh, but he intends to use the committee for his own ends, of whomsoever it might consist. In Istanbul, the government progressively weakens as it fails to win any points over the Allies at the Paris Peace Conference.

Another congress takes place in Sivas, and Mustafa Kemal has to borrow a retired major’s life savings in order to be able to afford to go to it. He leaves accompanied by a machine-gun detachment, and has a machine gun mounted on the leading car. He and the Nakşibendi dervish sheikh have to
travel through territory controlled by the Dersim Kurds, who have only three principles. One is greed, the other is violence, and the third is to have no principles other than these two.

At the conference it is resolved not to revive the Committee of Union and Progress, and not to be partisan to any political party. The era of the Young Turks is over. The conference confirms that it wants national independence within the lines set out at the armistice; in other words it wants to get rid of the Arab lands. The Arabs either fought badly in the Great War or defected to the British side, and the Turks want nothing more to do with them. Kemal and his comrades have fully embraced the principles set forth by President Wilson concerning national self-determination. There is talk of an American mandate whilst the country recovers, but Mustafa Kemal prefers help to hegemony. He will accept aid from anyone, as long as nobody tries to tell him what to do.