Inside the caravanserai there was a shopping arena with boutique like stores selling leather goods, jewellery, silks, and traditional ornaments. I walked around taking in every sight and smell, the outdoor bazaar was filled with aromatic spices of cumin, ginger, and thyme. Restaurants and delicatessens perched gracefully on the curving streets; everything was sold here from nail varnishes to pistachio nuts. Almonds, rose water, and pomegranates sold bag after bag as people shopped for necessities, luxuries, and bargains.
The Simitci man with a tray of pastries balanced delicately on his head came over to me. "Would you like one? A delicious Simit or Borek sister?" he said. The 'Simit's', round baked bread covered in sesame seeds; the 'Borek's 'a variety of meat and vegetable pastries. I thanked the Simitci man, settling for spinach and goats cheese Borek. When I finished revelling in the magic of the Bazaar, I retrieved my car from the two storey car park and began the three and half hour drive along the gulf of the west coast of Turkey to Edremit.
As I drove through Izmir's six lane motorways, glamorous apartments, industrial estates, and designer warehouses whizzed passed me. Edremit , situated in the Balikesir Province which was once called 'Adramyti 'in the 19th century, and its Greek form being 'Adramyttion' was regarded as the place to find the best olives in the country. I headed to a village called Altinoluk which traced its roots back to the Ottoman era of Suleiman the Magnificent (1520-1566).
The cobblestone floors where glistening in the sunlight, as I drove through its narrow roads staring in awe at the old Gece Kondu cottage style houses made of stone, left behind from the Ottomans .At the centre of the village was a small mosque, a local shop and fishmonger, a fish restaurant overlooking the sea, and a small coffee shop where the old men of the village congregated to play Tavla and sip Turkish coffee or cool Ayran, sheltered in the shade. Five minutes after the village, compound after compound of small and large country houses began to appear.
I drew a sharp intake of breath, through my clenched fists I could feel the racing pace of my heart beat on my fingers. There it was the little white house. I couldn't bring myself to go in; I needed to get to the sea. I walked down the dusty rocky road that still had not been fixed, on each side grew wild grass, but it didn't matter because below was heaven. The sea was surrounded by mountains that formed a cove around it, the sandy white beach wasn't lengthy, but it was a secluded piece of spectacular nature, better than any commercial beach I had ever seen.
Beyond only 300 meters away from the beach was the tiny hilly green island in the middle of the turquoise waters. It had no trees and was steep on most parts. From the beach just as I had always been able to I could make out his tiny little hut and beyond that a slightly larger one. On the shores was his rickety little fisherman's boat. I undressed; I wanted to swim, to indulge the sea. Immersed in salty water; there were no waves, the waters still and beautifully clear. I don't know why, but I didn't stop.
I got out of the sea, untied the dress that I had tied around myself, and pulled it over my head. I sat on the sand. He was nowhere to be seen and I didn't want to disturb him. Perhaps I should have been frightened. I sat and watched the sun turn a burnt orange, finally an amber pink before it disappeared allowing dusk to settle in.
"Hello there madam", he said piercing my thoughts. His voice was like velvet. "Are you ok there?" he said. "Yes, yes ....sorry", my voice was shaking slightly. "It's been a long time since I have been back home, I could not bring myself to stop Swimming", I said apologetically. "Yes", he said slowly. "Would you like a cup of Cay?" he asked. "Yes please", I whispered I could feel myself begin to shiver now. "My name is Mustafa, but everyone calls me fisherman Musa", he said smiling sweetly.
We sat together, on a blanket on the shore, in front of his tiny hut an open fire between us, and I sipped on hot black tea. "My grandmother Gulshen used to live on the compound, I spent my childhood here", I said. "Ahhh", he said a huge smile forming on his lips. "Gulshen Hanim." For the first time I noticed just how piercing his emerald green eyes where, much, much brighter than my own. "You must be little Dilara. Your grandmother was a wonderful woman. She would often invite me for breakfast, on the days I came to the mainland to sell my fish", he said staring into the fire unblinking.
Mustafa spoke softly, speaking every word with delicate precision. In the fire light I could see the deep creases that were now etched in his bronzed skin. He still wore his straw hat, and the same pastel coloured shorts and shirt which where immaculate. I wondered how he ironed his clothes. For a long time we sat in silence. It seemed we were both contemplating the world around us.
"Come", he said. "I want to show you something." He led me to the larger hut, his lantern guiding the way. I couldn't stop myself, there were no premeditated thoughts that led up to the moments before I burst out of my cocoon and the burning questions I had just erupted out of me. "Why do you live here"? I asked. He was silent. "I'm sorry", I said feeling deeply ashamed. "I didn't mean to pry". "No, not at all, I am glad you have come, and I am glad you are brave enough to ask", he said. "I live here, the same reason you came here; 'Hasret'- longing. I miss my wife, and the sea was her favourite place." " I came here for my mother, to allow myself to finally see her, and not just in my memories." I whispered suddenly sapped of all life.
Inside the hut the lanterns light shone on shelf after shelf of books, he opened one and took something out. He put it in my hands. I felt the cold metal, soothing my frail hands. When I opened my palm I saw a gold locket, I opened it. "Your grandmother wanted you to have this", Mustafa declared. I looked on in astonishment; she had known I would find him. That I would one day shatter the wall of whispers and silence. Mustafa's green eyes flickered and danced in the light, he too looked weak and unstable now. We were united in sorrow as we both looked at the open locket in my palms, and there she was standing in a flowery summer dress beaming.
��i*ۄ~ס
The Longing
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