CHILD BRIDE

CHAPTER 1

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In a dungeon of Deir Al Zour ...When his eyes got adjusted to the darkness of the dungeon, Abdulrahman approached his hands to his eyes under the weak shimmering beam of the torch, and touched the clamminess of his stinging knee with his finger. There was blood on it, and he tightly wrapped his knee with the rag he took out of his belt.

There in the darkness under the lonely nigh clouds of the night in this dungeon, It was again being shouted and yelled aloud by his soul that he could never look at his wife and his five children’s innocent faces because of the shame he felt deep within his heart. The wet ground of the dungeon could now no longer take the weight of the ragged and pulled down honor and dignity belonging to the man who was once the palace’s most trusted man. The light coming through the very gloomy window, close to the top of the dungeon, was hardly visible. He could not distinguish night from day in this place anymoreF a locale where there was not a sound but a faint humming in the background. On the ground of the dungeon, he bent his knees toward his face and clasped the dishonored hands around his ankles. He could no longer feel the presence of his overtly exhausted body. He fell down near the divan like a careened ship and looked into the last beam of light coming through the very small bird’sFeyeFlike hole in the window, and he did not even notice that this moment was the time he would give his last breath before his body released his soul.

When his brother Abdulkadir the Pasha1 got the news about his brother’s death in Baghdad, he left his cup of coffee on the pearl inlaid table. He put his two hands into the pockets of his jacket as he was leaning on the windowsill and watched Deir Al Zour while thinking. Abdulkadir Pasha, who was unF able to help his brother AbdulrahmanF once responsible for the palace’s gold, but now labeled as a thiefF burst into tears that would eventually fall from his cheeks onto his finely woven epaulets. No one, including Abdulkadir Pasha believed that AbF dulrahman lent a few of the hundred pieces of gold he was in charge of to his friend who was in trouble, and that the man had vanished into thin air without giving them back. Yet, that was the truth. Abdulrahman was supposed to, in fact he was going to, put the money he gave to his friend back before the comptrollers became suspicious. The most important fact for the inspectors was not that he was going to return the money, but he used the money he was responsible for as if it were his own. Abdulrahman cried a lot, but nobody listened or even tried to see.

Abdulrahman, who zipped up the rest of his life into one and half years in a dungeon and feeling very cheap and gone away, leaving his wife and five children to the ownerless hands of fate and buried their existence within the hot, parched terF ritories of the Ottoman Empire2. The children, each with a difF ferent story, would walk alone to face certain punishments that are unique to human nature and also to dedicate their lives to the incomprehensibilities of their lonesome journey along the way to the unknowns of the future.

In this novel, Abdulrahman’s wife will be only a lowly, womF an character giving birth five times and doomed to live in the hot lands of Syria. His children will be mentioned in the life of another child Bedriye. As for Bedriye, she will experience a life full of different stories from 1912 to 2002. This young girl’s life will last almost one hundred years.

1Pasha: The high military rank standing for General in the Ottoman army. It was typically granted to governors.

2Ottoman Empire: The former name of the Turkish Republic. This TurkishEorigin emE pire ruled the Middle East, some parts of Balkans, and Africa from 1299 to 1923.

CHAPTER 2

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The sun in Deir Al Zour shed all of its orange and yellow light over the dusty soil and the scorching sunlight was reflectF ed brilliantly as silver verging on white as it kept glowing. Its radiant light was so powerful that no one could look at it nor they could turn their heads away.

Bedriye, at the age of thirteen  the age which brought her a childish yet adult sense of beingF was coming back home, walking on the dusty road where houses were rarely seen and the streets were very narrow. She was halfway from her KoF ran course from the mosque and home, bouncing her long fairFhaired braids which were as thick as her wrist and hung down to her waist from her head, and her Koran grasped to her chest. She was laughing as she looked behind her onto the road on which she was hopping and stirring up dust. She was skipping while walking in the mustardFcolored dust she left behind, watching her back with hesitant glances in fear that there would be someone to see her purely childish smile on her face, but she kept moving joyfully. What she was experiF encing in her innocent soul was what life meant for someone at the age of thirteen.

He locked his eyes on the girl flipping her hair as she hopped like an antelope. Bedriye, with her fresh mossFgreen eyes, pinkskin, and head scarf that was falling slightly down her hair as she hopped, took Hamdi Bey’s3 brain away and stole his heart with her pure childish mien. The goldenFcolored script on the green cover of the Koran she grasped above her barelyFvisible expanse of her chest was dancing in the sunlight. She stood in front of the grocer where the shiny color of rock candies reflected from jams that shed the mirroring of their colors against the window of the grocer in a scarletFclove and ambergris color against the yellow lights. She tasted the candies with her eyes through the grocer’s window, and later on ran home quickly. The door of the mansion was shut with a blinding noise as she entered.

Hamdi Bey pulled up his horse to the front of the door that had carvings on the corner of the street. He headed directly to the groce, not being able to keep his eyes off Bedriye. The horse, which was exhausted from carrying HamdiF weighing two hundred kilosF also stopped in front of the grocer; the foam on its mount due to the sun and its heavy burden. The horse neighed soon after it stopped thrashing its mane back and forth. Hamdi ducked so as not to hit his head on the awF ning of the grocer’s store. He entered, creaking and bending all of the wooden planks on the floor of the store and greeted the grocer who was watching him enter with his hawkFlike eyes.

I am chief commissar from Harput and I am on an in border inspection.

3 Bey: A type of address which stands for Sir in English; used for respected and wealthy people in Turkey, especially in the 20th century. It also meant husband at one time.

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Selamun aleykum... Bey4. How can I help you? Who lives in the mansion opposite your shop?

The grocer collected himself with a different demeanor that showed he was dealing with someone trying to prove himself to be great importance, as if this man were to be given great respect with his important speech and fancy words. The grocer took a deep breath and held it before he began to speak. He told of the lowly Asiye, who went on living destitute with her five children after her husband Abdulrahman’s death and of Bedriye with those mossFcolored eyes that were still seared in Hamdi’s mind:

It is Abdulkadir Pasha of Baghdad’s brother. Abdulrahman Bey’s house, sir, the grocer said adding,

He passed away a short time ago. The elder son of the house of Abdullah is engaged to the governor’s daughter, and the other girl Rukiye.... her marriage was arranged soon after her birth by the elders. Her future spouse was decided upon and chosen by the elders. Bedriye takes lessons in the Koran. Their father died in grief and sorrow, but they are affluent anyway.

The day turned into tomorrow. Hamdi’s uniform was smoothF lyFpressed with a coalFheated iron with the smell of concenF trated soap. After a very smooth shave, he tidied up his mousF tache and placed the calvac on his head with a great care. He rapped the castFiron knocker of the door of the mansion three times, grasping it with his big and determined hands. One of the maids of the mansion, Zahide, halfFopened the door and looked at him with her wondering eyes.

4Salamun Aleykum: The expression coming from Arabic and Islamic origin that means Hello, which is still in use in the MiddleEEast and Turkey today.

I came here to talk to Bedriye’s brother and mum. I am commissar Hamdi.

Please come in, she said.

The door hit the iron jutting behind it and closed as he enF tered. At first, the cool air of the wide foyer greeted commissar Hamdi. Lively orangeFcolored sunlight was penetrating thinly from the main gate to the wide forecourt, which was paved with huge, smooth greyFveined stones upon which the sun left broken shades. On the treads of the dark grey old wooden stairs which was leant to the right wall of the house, it was Zahide’s tapping steps heard at first, and soon after came the booming steps of Hamdi.

Mrs. Asiye was drinking coffee with Rukiye sitting on the sofa. The aroma of cardamom in the wooden room having a high ceiling passed through the mystic sunlight inside and freed itself from pillowcases embellished with laceworks. This certain smell was blending with the frozen atmosphere of the room.

As Hamdi appeared in front of the salon door, Rukiye straightened her unkempt head scarf, which had let some parts of her hair be seenF a situation which was against the traditions of the society. Mrs. Asiye, not standing up, pointed to the dusty roseFcolored divan with lacework embroidered on its pillows. At the threshold of the door from where Zahide slowly went out, Abdullah appeared, glancing before he rooted himself to the divan.

I am commissar Hamdi from Harput, a town which is also known as Mezra. I am interested in your daughter Bedriye. I am on inspection duty in Deir Al Zour for six months and am about to return home soon. I am forty years old and wealthy. I live with my sister Sulbiye.

Asiye was in great shock, unsure of what to say. It was something unprecedented for a man to come alone to a house and announce that he desired the daughter of the house. That thing was a ritual which was charged to an older woman who was a relative or a close neighbor. After this ritual, the girl’s family would ask for time to think about it.

Besides, with his overwhelming patronizing trust in his staF tus and identity, he was ignoring the traditions of that time as well! Asiye was speechless. She was prepared to open her mouth and respond to all these points mentioned when AbdulF lah took the floor instead.

She is just a child!

If you do not let me have her and marry her, I will kidnap (take her away with no permission from the family) her.5 HowF ever, she is at the age to be able to wear the bridal veil. She is of an age to marry. There is no need for anyone to regret this in the end!

With Abdullah’s gesturing to Rukiye with his head, Asiye tightened her head scarf, lettting it cover even around her nose and left the room, not raising her head. Asiye hit the server that was nearby as she was crossing her legs. The coffee cup, still with grounds in it, bounced off the server and shook slightly,

5It was once a tradition when the girl’s side does not permit them to marry. In such a case, they would reconcile with the family again, but in the worst scenarios the man would kidnap the girl and take her virginity, making it a must to marry him even if she doesn’t like him. Sometimes this would end up with long lasting vendettas amongst families.

making a noise resembling that of porcelain plates when they hit something. This single noise in the room, except that of the deep breaths taken by everyone in the room, unleashed itself from there and took the form of an angel’s ring in Bedriye’s eyes, who was collecting the berries outside that fell down under the mulberry tree with her delicate fingers.

CHAPTER 3

Family council gathered and it was decided that it would be for Bedriye’s own good to be wedded to this man. From the storehouse on the third floor where the air was so dense and heavy with a soft soapy smell, Bedriye’s hope chest was taken out. Bed linens and pillowcases on which purple tree branches had been pictured with needlework; pure silk nightgowns for bed embroidered with veils, and the bed robes were all washed and ironed. Clogs with silver carvings and the bride’s basin were polished with ash. Everything was prepared flawlessly according to the orders and dictations of Hamdi Bey. Everything was irreproachable as Hamdi Bey asked them to be! Being light and tender was not something to suit his temper!

There is no need for Bedriye’s hope chest, he said. She is already going to possess anything necessary for a woman to maintain her life wedded to a man for the rest of her days  silk nightgowns, underwear, make up, and everything a woman might need".

The parching sun in Deir Al Zour sometimes gave the chance for shade to make itself visible under the water tables of the houses around the streets. Bedriye, together with Zahide, was playing jacks with the grocer’s daughter. When she was out and waiting for her turn again, she suddenly became silent as she looked into the house through the window and saw that everybody was in rush. Later she gave in to the helpless state of mind found in childhood.

Rukiye spent the night in Bedriye’s room instructing her since she would be called as a married woman from then on. Under the name of a married woman, she was expected to rub her husband’s back with a bath glove while he was taking a shower, draw water from the well in the twilight, roll out the 40 layers of dough for a good baklava, and say nothing, even if her husband did something to hurt her.

I don’t want to go there sister! I want to play with my family and friends and listen to the tales you are telling me. I like my mother weaving my hair!

"No Bedriye! The elders would know the best. Moreover, unless you marry this year, the following year you will be wedF ded. That is to say, in one way or another there is a marriage ceremony waiting for you there in a very few years. The commissar is an esteemed man. He is handsome and wealthy. You know no better than your brother and mum about this