Do Not Forget Me Istanbul Page #3

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You like it?

The colour too?

This one is also nice.

Isn't it too short?

Maybe a tiny bit.

How long haven't

you seen your sister?

It's been 62 years.

God! Since the Naqba.

You fled to Syria

and your sister stayed?

What's the Naqba Mom?

It's the 1948 war...

and the occupation of Palestine.

Don't they teach you anything in school?

Can we go to this shop, Mom?

Okay honey.

We'll be late then.

It'll just take two minutes.

We're almost there, don't worry.

My father said nobody else could have

survived what she has been through.

I remember

how she left with your father,

I was just six then.

My sisterwas

ready to stay and fight.

But your father was the man,

he decided.

My mother is lost.

I don't know where she is.

Hold still.

Hello?

Hi Ali.

No, I'm in Beyolu.

Come here.

It's my only day off,

I'm with the children.

You could have told me earlier.

Okay.

I'll try to see what I can do.

Ok, see you.

Auntie, I'll just...

Hello?

Are you okay auntie?

Do you need water?

It's a whole new engine that I need!

We're almost there.

Ok, let's just move on.

That's enough.

I'm leaving.

Thank you.

She's alright, don't worry.

She's old and

she doesn't speak English.

Don't worry, she'll find the hotel.

She doesn't even

have her medication.

Are you crazy, auntie?

What more do you want from me?

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Every Living Being Will Taste Death.

Yes?

Where are you?

I'm here, with your father.

I got your message about the storage.

We need to talk.

I'll be home soon.

Okay.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Every pipe in the

building is leaking.

The walls are all mouldy.

The roof is on the verge of collapse.

How can we ever pay for all this?

My father built this shop long

before he married you.

He put so much into it.

There's no other solution.

If you have another idea just tell me.

Everything is broken.

Whatever we sell, the money is yours.

I don't want anything.

It's not about the money.

He worked all his life for this shop.

Doesn't that mean anything to you?

What the hell is this?

It's a real graveyard here.

Come on.

I brought you tea.

Thanks Mrs. Reyhan.

Mrs. Reyhan?

Should we throw

everything away or...

...is there anything

you want us to keep?

No.

Everything needs to go.

Yes?

Hello.

Please come in.

The guys in the back

are waiting for you.

This place used to be

his grandfather's shop.

What are you doing?

You never told me

you hired the removal men.

Yes, I did.

You just didn't want to listen.

I can't deal with it anymore.

I'm fed up, Aylin.

What part of

that don't you understand?

Don't lie. You want to close the shop

and move on with your life.

I don't want to fight with you.

I'm trying to do my best.

Help me... please.

If you don't want to help me...

...then do whatever you

want with the shop. I'm done.

UDI HRANT KENKULIAN

Ohannes Muradian

1868 Constantinople

Whilst I was still a student...

...walking down the

Grande Rue de Pera,

I would hear six different

languages ringing in my ears.

Turkish, Greek, Armenian,

Sephardic Hebrew, Italian and French.

My fatherwas Armenian...

...my mother a Greek.

I graduated from the Greek

Elementary School of Heybeliada.

It was there that I learned Greek,

the language that made me a writer.

All the rest of

my studies were in German.

When I went back to the school

a few years ago...

...I witnessed scenes of desolation.

I stood there,

unable to hold back my tears.

It was as if, buried among

these ruins, was also my language...

...the one this school

had taught me.

I didn't feel the loneliness

of the island during elementary school.

It started in high school.

The school was near the

Tower of Galata.

This daily trip back

and forth between a city full of life...

...and an island with

few inhabitants...

...made me feel very lonely.

In the last years of high school, I started

staying in Istanbul a bit longer on Saturdays...

I'd lose myself searching for books

in Hachette bookstore...

...or grab a sandwich and

beer from Atlantik with friends...

...and go to the 4 o'clock screening...

...usually in Emek cinema...

Hachette is now a Starbuck's,

Atlantik a Levi's store,

As for Emek...

The 2nd of May 2010,

Emek cinema is still standing.

They want to destroy it.

We won't let them!

Then, once again, the last boat to

the Prince Islands would leave at 19:30...

...the hourwhen Pera starts to

prepare for the Saturday night...

...and my friends would be discussing whether

they would go watch a second movie...

...or to Saray patisserie for desserts.

Each alleyway carries the

memory of someone or something.

Maybe that's why it took me

so long to write about Istanbul.

Up to now, every return to Istanbul was for me

a chance to be freed from nostalgia.

Do you remember Petros?

Two years ago...

...we started talking and...

...that was when this story

came out, right?

Did you ask me or did I ask you?

I can't remember.

Well, when I told you

I used to live in Kurtulu,

You said,

'I live in Kurtulu too.'

I asked you 'Where in Kurtulu? '

You said...

'Near the terminal station

there's this building: Narin'.

I asked 'What floor of

this building do you live on? '

You said the fifth and I used to

live on the fourth. That's how it came out.

The day my mother got smacked by my grandmother,

24/10/1951. Her son, Petros Markarian.

What do you see Papa?

I see Tatavla...

I see snow falling on

Tatavla, Josefina.

For my grandparents, Joseph and

Tassoula, who never made it back to Polis

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