https://notebooklm.google.com/notebook/2fa91c91-1ac1-4dc2-b4e3-85037bed4f54/audio
SUBJECT: Republic
THEME: The play aims to offer original interpretations of the founding values of our Republic, centred around independence, freedom, and patriotism.
STORY: Mehmet Bey, a veteran of the Turkish War of Independence, lives with his wife Fatma in the village of Hamurlu in the Eastern Black Sea region. They have two sons and four grandchildren. Their sons live in different cities. Mehmet Bey passed away after the 1980 coup. His two sons return to the village for his memorial service.
TITLE: Tender Love (Nazlı Sevda)
CHARACTERS:
- MEHMET: Born 1900, veteran of the War of Independence
- FATMA: Born 1905, Mehmet’s wife
- CEMAL: Born 1905, Mehmet’s brother
- NUR-U NISA: Born 1908, Cemal’s wife, daughter of a pasha
- KEMAL: Born 1931, elder son, graduate of a Village Institute
- YAŞAR: Born 1935, younger son
- HABIB: Born 1905, village imam
- KEMALETTIN SAMİ: Mehmet’s commander during the War of Independence
- HASAN: Kemal’s friend from the Village Institute
- ŞAHİN: Postman
- SIRRI: Corporal
- HİLMİ: Lieutenant
- AYŞE: Student
- MURTAZA: Villager
- MUHTAR: Village headman
- GAZİ ŞEVKİ: War veteran
- JANDARMA I: Gendarme I
- JANDARMA II: Gendarme II
- SÜLEYMAN: Villager
ACT I
SCENE I
(Post-1980 coup, a forest village in the Eastern Black Sea region. The postman arrives at Mehmet Bey’s house. The sound of the imam reciting the Quran can be heard from inside.)
ŞAHİN: Grandma Fatma!
FATMA: (At the doorstep, with a local accent) Come in, my boy.
ŞAHİN: My condolences, Grandma Fatma. May God grant long lives to your children.
FATMA: Thank you, my dear. May our loved ones live long. It’s God’s will. What brings you?
ŞAHİN: I’m sorry to disturb you on such a mournful day, but it’s probably not good news.
FATMA: Don’t say that, son, you’re just doing your job. Let’s hope it’s good news. Let me see that letter.
ŞAHİN: You’ve got two letters, Grandma Fatma. One’s a court summons. The other has the party’s seal on the envelope.
FATMA: (Reads one letter) What am I supposed to say now? It’s been forty days since my Mehmet passed, and they still don’t know their party is dead too. I can’t make sense of the court paper. Can you take a look, son?
ŞAHİN: Of course, Grandma Fatma.
FATMA: They sent a card to my Mehmet, congratulating him for Republic Day. Tell me, Şahin, what am I supposed to say to these people? (Şahin lowers his head.)
FATMA: Kemal, come here, son!
KEMAL: (From inside) What is it, Mother?
FATMA: (Crying) Come and see these letters, Kemal. Look at the state of our country!
KEMAL: (Arrives at the doorstep) Welcome, Şahin. But it doesn’t seem like you brought good news.
FATMA: (Kneels down) It’s been forty days since my Gazi Mehmet passed, and your friend, that so-called district governor, is congratulating your father for Republic Day. That shameless wretch! And there’s a court letter too—I don’t understand what it’s about.
KEMAL: Let me see those letters, Mother. (Reads the letters, angrily) Mother, I’m going to the square. That scoundrel will get what’s coming to him. You carry on with the memorial. I’ll be back tonight.
YAŞAR: (Joins them) What’s wrong, Mother? Where’s my brother going in such a huff?
FATMA: He said he’s going to the square, son. (Hands him the letter) Look, read it and see what’s happened to us. What kind of grudge is this?
YAŞAR: (Reads the letters) Mother, don’t say anything to me, please.
FATMA: (Wipes her tears with her headscarf) What are you saying, my Yaşar?
YAŞAR: You know I always clashed with Father. Both he and my brother constantly criticized and blamed me for my political views.
FATMA: Don’t say that. Your father loved you so much, my Yaşar.
YAŞAR: Look at the state my great father has been reduced to. What a shame. How can they be so indifferent to such a devoted party member? And that swindler even filed a lawsuit over the land.
FATMA: This is all Süleyman’s doing. He did it on purpose.
YAŞAR: My father was a war veteran and a loyal party member for years. This is so painful. He didn’t deserve this, Mother, not at all. And what about the court summons? That vulture waited for Father to die before filing a lawsuit over the land. I’m going to the square too, Mother.
FATMA: Wait, Yaşar, my boy. Hold on. Your brother will handle it. You go inside. Look, it’s getting dark too. You still need to see Habib Hoca off.
YAŞAR: See, Mother? As always, the elder son handles the real business, while the younger one gets the trivial tasks. It’s always been like this in this house.
FATMA: No, my Yaşar, it’s not like that. (The memorial ends. Those inside offer condolences and leave.)
YAŞAR: You did the same thing Father did. Fine. (Calls to the imam) Habib Hoca, shall we go if you’re ready?
HABIB: Alright, Yaşar, I’m ready, my boy. Let’s go before it gets too dark.
FATMA: Son, don’t you dare mention the letters or the court to Habib Hoca on the way. Understood?
YAŞAR: Why not, Mother?
FATMA: No, my boy, no. Just to avoid any tension. Don’t get upset right away.
YAŞAR: I should tell him so he knows about his son’s endless ambition for power. Let him learn about the hidden grudge he held against my father. Don’t you know Habib Hoca is the most democratic imam in our village, even in the surrounding villages?
FATMA: That’s true, but still, don’t say anything, my boy.
YAŞAR: Habib Hoca loves the Republic and stands by the state. Let him see how the party he thought was the guardian of the Republic treats its friends. And let him see the hatred his son, your father’s best friend, had for him.
FATMA: Oh, my boy! Fine, do as you wish. You were always stubborn, even in your youth. My Mehmet always kept it inside, dealing with your reckless ways.
YAŞAR: Mother, enough. Habib Hoca is coming, don’t say anything in front of him.
FATMA: He’d be upset but never showed it. I, however… (Habib Hoca approaches)
YAŞAR: Hoca, your swindling son has done it again.
HABIB: Yaşar, my boy, do you hear what you’re saying? What has Süleyman done now?
YAŞAR: Şahin just brought a Republic Day congratulatory card from the party, along with a court summons for the lawsuit your son filed.
HABIB: What Republic Day, what card, my boy? What lawsuit? What’s going on, Fatma Hanım?
YAŞAR: (Angrily) How can a party be so insensitive to its own members? To his father’s best friend from his own village, no less. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he files a lawsuit over the land like he planned it. Shame on your swindling son. Shame.
HABIB: (Reads the letter Yaşar hands him) No way! That boy has completely lost it. Is that why Kemal left the house in such a hurry? I hope they don’t fight in the square.
YAŞAR: Yes, he went to the square. I don’t know, but he might just do it! (Yaşar escorts the imam to the courtyard and returns to the house. It gets dark. He enters the living room.)
YAŞAR: Mother, what are you doing in the room? My brother still hasn’t come back. What if he’s beating up Süleyman at the party headquarters right now? In front of everyone?
FATMA: No, Kemal wouldn’t do that. He’s probably fuming now, sure. Thank God he has friends there to intervene.
YAŞAR: I hope you’re right, Mother. I’m going to lie down for a bit. (Yaşar enters the room and lies on the divan. His mother kneels by the divan and opens a chest, rummaging through its contents.)
YAŞAR: Oh, Mother, you couldn’t resist and opened Father’s chest.
FATMA: What can I do, son? Is it easy? So many years have passed.
YAŞAR: I remember from my childhood. I’d see Father sitting in that corner, scribbling in a little notebook. I never forgot the time I sneaked a look at it when he got up to use the bathroom. I couldn’t read it because it was handwritten. Child’s curiosity, you know. I almost got caught.
FATMA: Look at this! It’s that notebook. He never let it out of his hands since the early days of our marriage.
YAŞAR: Wow! Who knows what’s in this notebook. (Fatma opens the cover, reads a bit, then throws the notebook at the wall, crying.)
YAŞAR: Mother! What happened? Why did you throw the notebook? (Yaşar gets up from the divan and picks up the notebook from the floor.)
YAŞAR: Mother, please don’t cry. Oh, Father! Even after death, you’ve managed to upset my dear mother.
FATMA: Did you read it, Yaşar? The heartache my Mehmet carried for Canan, his love before me! Canan! He wrote this notebook for her. For her.
YAŞAR: Yes, the first page says “To Canan.” But don’t you know, Mother, you were the only love of Father’s life? It was just a girl he loved in his youth.
FATMA: No, son, no. It’s not like that. How would you know Canan?
YAŞAR: Did you know Canan?
FATMA: Yes. We went to primary school together, in the same class.
YAŞAR: Mother, I don’t understand why Father’s writings from his youth upset you so much.
FATMA: Oh, my boy! You can’t know how this smoldering ember in me has started burning again. YAŞAR: Aren’t you making too much of it, Mother?
FATMA: You wouldn’t say that if you knew what happened. (Yaşar kneels on the divan next to his mother, who is sitting on the floor.)
FATMA: Mehmet was the most handsome young man in the village. Many girls prayed to God to marry him. He and Canan were engaged with their families’ consent before he went to the front. I loved him from afar, watching my beloved slip through my fingers. (The front door opens. Yaşar stands and leaves the room.)
YAŞAR: Mother, wait, I think my brother’s back. I’ll check and be right back. (Kemal stands at the door, looking at Yaşar.)
YAŞAR: Brother, what happened? Tell me.
KEMAL: (Smiling) What do you think? I gave Süleyman what he deserved.
YAŞAR: I hope you didn’t beat him up in front of everyone.
KEMAL: Forget it. Are you worried about that swindler? Let him deal with his mess.
YAŞAR: Come inside, we were talking with Mother. (They enter the room.)
FATMA: (Stands from where she was kneeling) Son, you stormed off like a hurricane without saying a word. What happened? I hope you didn’t do anything reckless.
KEMAL: Nothing happened, Mother. Don’t worry, I taught him a lesson. (Sees the open chest) Looks like you two haven’t been idle either.
YAŞAR: It’s nothing, brother. Mother was just rummaging through the chest out of boredom. FATMA: Boredom, huh? More like Canan’s troubles, Yaşar. Come, Kemal, come. You too, Yaşar, sit down. YAŞAR: Mother was just starting to tell me when you arrived, brother.
KEMAL: (Surprised) What were you telling, Mother? What’s unfinished?
YAŞAR: She was talking about Father’s youthful love, Canan, brother.
FATMA: Yes, I was telling about my beloved Mehmet and his love, Canan. Your father was engaged to Canan before he went to the front.
KEMAL: Wow, look at Father! I always thought you were his first love, Mother. So that’s the truth! I’d heard of Canan but didn’t know they were engaged.
FATMA: Mehmet wrote letters from the front. Since my father was the village headman, letters from the front came to him first. He’d deliver them to the soldiers’ families himself. I’d sneak into his room and read Mehmet’s letters to his parents and Canan first.
YAŞAR: Mother, really?
FATMA: I still have the poem he wrote to his mother memorized.
*“I send my warm regards to you, I kiss both your hands with love so true, I have no worries, no sorrows to rue, Since I joined the army, Mother dear.
The uniform fits me, snug and right, Gunpowder smells like home in my sight, I’ll be a martyr, no coffin in flight, Let my wedding be in battle, Mother dear.
We’ve started training, I’m sharp as can be, Among my peers, I lead, you’ll see, I’d give my life for the Turkish army, What wouldn’t I give for this land, Mother dear.
Soldiering is my legacy from days of old, I’m skilled as a master, even now, I’m told, Speak not of home or weddings to unfold, I’ve given myself to the homeland, Mother dear.”*
YAŞAR: Brother, I never knew Father had a poet’s soul.
KEMAL: You never tried to understand him. You always went your own way, picking fights with him and upsetting everyone around him. Am I wrong? (Yaşar falls silent.)
FATMA: Your father was the commander’s scribe in the army. Honestly, reading his letters made me understand his love for the homeland even more. And the epic he wrote for the oath ceremony—it was impossible not to admire.
*“The regiment’s banner unfurled in the rite, Its golden tassels gleam in the sunlight, I thought the homeland’s hearth burned bright, Today, Mother, is my soldier’s wedding day.
Trumpets sound, filled with divine light, Battalions form in perfect sight, Majors recite epics with might, Father, I’ll never forget this great day.
The flag draped over the table in view, Soldiers swear oaths, their hands held true, Cursed be those who falter now, too, Mother, your son’s fame will rise today.
The colonel’s words wrapped my heart tight, As if a lion roared in my chest’s light, The world feels small, the cosmos slight, Brother, fear not, our army’s path is clear.
On land, sea, and sky, in every place, Ready for peace or war’s fierce race, I’ll die for the homeland, first in the chase, Mother, I swore my oath and chose this way.”*
KEMAL: We should make Süleyman memorize these verses, Mother. But don’t worry, I gave that rogue a lesson he’ll never forget.
FATMA: Son, don’t drive me crazy. Tell me, what did you do to Süleyman?
YAŞAR: Yes, brother, tell us already.
KEMAL: Tomorrow will bring clarity. Everyone will be talking about it in the square, and you’ll hear.
FATMA: When I read the letter about Mehmet becoming a corporal, I forgot about his love for Canan and soared with pride for this hero, like a sparrow flapping its wings.
*“Mother, today my promotion came through, Among my peers, a corporal I grew. From the divisions, the order came too, Among a hundred men, a corporal I grew.
The company stood, saluting in line, The captain pinned the badge, a sign, He struck my back, made the rank mine, This month, a corporal I grew.
Mother, your son will keep his word true, With bayonet, I’ll pierce the foe’s view, I’ll make your angelic face smile anew, For that day, a corporal I grew.
Mother, this land is paradise to me, A legacy from ancestors, for Turks to be, I gave my heart to Atatürk, you see, On his path, a corporal I grew.”*
YAŞAR: Being a corporal doesn’t seem like a big deal. Everyone becomes one in the army.
FATMA: Don’t say that, son. Your father later passed an exam to become a sergeant. Back then, becoming a sergeant wasn’t easy. Officers held exams among the non-commissioned officers, and there was no such thing as favoritism. It was wartime. You earned sergeant with the sweat of your brow.
KEMAL: Don’t mind Yaşar, Mother. He talks nonsense sometimes, doesn’t he? Let him tell us how he “served” lying down in the army. (Laughs) Problematic private.
YAŞAR: (Offended) Brother, isn’t that a bit much?
FATMA: Enough, son, don’t push him. Later, they wanted Canan for a crippled boy from the neighboring village. She didn’t want it, but her father was set on it because the dowry was good.
YAŞAR: Wow, look at that guy. He engages his daughter to someone going to the front, then gives her to another while he’s fighting the enemy. What a shame.
FATMA: We didn’t hear from Mehmet for a long time. His last letter said his unit was assigned to the front lines. Then a letter came from the army with a list of fallen soldiers. It felt like a dagger in my heart. I’ll never forget that moment. Mehmet’s name was on the list of martyrs.
YAŞAR: Of course, it was a golden opportunity for Canan’s father. Now he could easily give his daughter to that crippled boy.
FATMA: How could we know they’d made a mistake on the martyr list? I mourned Mehmet for months while they married Canan off to that boy.
KEMAL: Mother, who was that crippled boy? Do we know him?
FATMA: You know him, you know him! But never mind, son. What’s the point?
YAŞAR: He’d be around Father’s age, right, Mother? Come on, brother, think hard. You know him too.
KEMAL: Honestly, I can’t place him. What happened next? When did they realize Father wasn’t dead?
FATMA: Canan was married off to the neighboring village. Months later, while cleaning my father’s room, I couldn’t believe my eyes. A letter in Mehmet’s handwriting. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was his letter. It couldn’t be. I opened it immediately. He was alive. Mehmet had been wounded at the front and was in the hospital all that time. I’ll never forget that moment. The world was mine. (Her voice trembles)
KEMAL: My dear Mother. You’re Father’s true love. Never forget that. Look at Canan—she gave in to her father the moment she heard Father was a martyr. But you…
FATMA: While lying wounded in the hospital, Mehmet poured his love for the homeland into his letter.
*“The hospital commander is a great pasha, Doctors keep patients alive, full of grace, They ease the pain from the wounded’s embrace, Yet no one knows the doctor’s true worth.
The weather’s turned, lightning now flashes, Blood flows from the wounded’s gashes, Doctors care for them with tender dashes, Yet no one knows the doctor’s true worth.
Evening falls, the sun begins to set, The wounded say knives pierce their regret, Doctors offer comfort, their hearts met, Yet no one knows the doctor’s true worth.
Some with broken legs, some with fever’s grip, Some with aching heads, some in mourning’s dip, A thousand ships arrive, but I’m a lonely ship, Stranded in exile, what can I do?
Some have pneumonia, some TB’s blight, Some long for their dreams, out of sight, Some yearn for home but can’t take flight, Stranded in exile, what can I do?
I wandered the hospital, opened a door, Stepped inside and lost myself, heartsore, I stumbled upon a fallen friend, no more, Stranded in exile, what can I do?”*
FATMA: When I read Mehmet’s letter, they didn’t believe it at first. I showed them his earlier handwritten letters, and they were convinced. (Fatma’s eyes close.) It’s getting late. We need to go to the garden early tomorrow.
KEMAL: Mother, I can’t sleep with all this curiosity.
YAŞAR: Brother, don’t insist. Look, Mother’s exhausted. Let’s sleep. She’ll continue tomorrow. But above all, I’m dying to know how you and Father got married. And you still haven’t told us what you did to Süleyman.
FATMA: Alright, Yaşar. I’ll continue tomorrow. (The stage darkens. Morning comes. They wake to a loud knock at the door.) VOICE: Grandma Fatma! Grandma Fatma! Open the door!
FATMA: (Opens the door, two gendarmes stand before her) What’s wrong, son?
JANDARMA I: Is Kemal here, ma’am? There’s a complaint against him. He needs to come to the station with us.
FATMA: What station, son? What has Kemal done?
JANDARMA I: You don’t know what happened in the square yesterday, Grandma Fatma? Didn’t Kemal tell you?
FATMA: No, son, I don’t know. He didn’t say anything.
JANDARMA I: Your son attacked Mayor Süleyman Bey.
YAŞAR: Look at my brother! So that’s what he meant by “you’ll hear tomorrow.” (Laughs)
KEMAL: (Comes to the door) I was expecting you. Let’s go.
FATMA: Son, what have you done? Was this really necessary?
KEMAL: I’m ready. Let’s go give my statement. (The gendarmes take Kemal by the arms and leave.)
FATMA: Oh, my son!
YAŞAR: Don’t worry, Mother. They’ll take his statement and release him. Don’t fret. (The stage darkens.)
SCENE II
(Mehmet Bey’s house. Kemal enters.)
FATMA: Son, what did they say at the station? Did you really beat Süleyman?
KEMAL: I gave my statement to the commander, Mother. What, was that scoundrel Süleyman supposed to get away with what he did? Yes, I beat him. I gave him a good thrashing in front of everyone.
YAŞAR: Well done, brother. You should’ve given him a few punches for me too.
KEMAL: Let’s go to the room, Mother. Don’t worry about this, it’s not a big deal. Besides, we left off yesterday. Don’t think I forgot. Continue telling us about Father. I’m dying to know how you two got married.
FATMA: Alright, let’s go. (They enter the room.)
FATMA: By then, Mehmet’s parents had accepted his death. They didn’t believe it at first. But when letters from Mehmet kept coming, they were overjoyed. The world was theirs.
YAŞAR: Father was writing those letters without knowing Canan had married, right? Thinking his fiancée was waiting for him. How did he find out she was married?
FATMA: One day, Mehmet’s father called me to their house. I remember it like it was yesterday. He must’ve sensed my love for Mehmet because he told me I’d be the best wife for his son and that he wanted me as their daughter-in-law.
KEMAL: That’s something to be proud of. So, Grandfather paved the way for your marriage.
FATMA: Yes, son, I was so proud that day. I could barely hold back my tears in front of him. But writing to Mehmet at the front about Canan’s marriage could’ve been risky. You don’t give such painful news to a soldier in war. He’d find out when he returned. So we didn’t write about Canan’s marriage.
YAŞAR: Who did Canan marry? You didn’t say, Mother. Why hide it from us? My brother couldn’t figure it out, but I know who Canan married. (Silence)
FATMA: How would you know, son? If your brother couldn’t figure it out.
YAŞAR: The crippled boy Canan married was none other than Habib Hoca himself. The same Habib Hoca who married young and lost his wife shortly after.
KEMAL: (Shocked) No way!
YAŞAR: Of course. Canan married Habib Hoca, didn’t she, Mother?
FATMA: (Pauses) Yes, Yaşar, Canan married Habib Hoca. A week before Mehmet returned from the front, news came to the village that Canan had died. Some said she threw herself off the cliffs at Kırık Taş because she was forced into the marriage. Others said she lost her balance while grazing animals and fell to her death. Everyone told a different story.
KEMAL: Really? What a tragedy. Y
AŞAR: Canan loved Father too, didn’t she, Mother? She was forced into marriage and took her own life because she couldn’t face her beloved.
FATMA: Maybe, Yaşar. I hadn’t thought of it that way back then. I learned the truth from Mehmet much later. (Silence)
FATMA: Mehmet returned from the front. He was welcomed in the village with drums and pipes along with his comrades. Only three of the ten young men from our village returned alive. Three heroic young men with Independence Medals.
KEMAL: Father must’ve looked for Canan the moment he arrived. Didn’t he ask? How did he learn the truth?
FATMA: Of course he asked. As soon as he got home, he threw his bag in a corner. After reuniting with his parents, he rushed to find Canan. He asked his father where his fiancée was. Canan’s father was silent, head bowed. Mehmet looked around, then came to me, staring with those big eyes, waiting for an answer without saying a word. It fell to me to tell my beloved that his love was dead.
YAŞAR: My dear Mother. What a noble person you are. KEMAL: What did Father do?
FATMA: Nothing. He slowly walked back home and left.
YAŞAR: I can’t believe it.
FATMA: Yes. Months later, Mehmet left the house. His father must’ve told him what he said to me because one evening, they sent word they were coming. That day, Mehmet’s parents asked for my hand. My father asked if I wanted it. Would I say no to the beloved I’d waited for so long? I said yes. (The stage darkens.)
SCENE III
(1921, after the Sakarya Victory, Western Front, south of Afyon, 4th Corps Headquarters)
HİLMİ: Sergeant Mehmet!
MEHMET: At your command, sir!
HİLMİ: Commander Kemalettin Sami has called you to his tent.
MEHMET: Yes, sir. I’ll be there at once. (Mehmet enters the tent.)
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Come in, Mehmet. I have something to tell you.
MEHMET: I’m all ears, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Mehmet, you know you’re one of my favorite sergeants in the headquarters.
MEHMET: Thank you, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Hold on, don’t interrupt. There’s a rumor going around about you among the soldiers. Are you aware of it?
MEHMET: Yes, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: What’s this rumor? I want to hear it from you. Let’s see if it matches what I’ve heard.
MEHMET: They’ve nicknamed me “Bolshevik” at the headquarters, sir. Once, they even called me “Bolshevik Mehmet” behind my back.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: So that’s it. Bolshevik Mehmet.
MEHMET: Yes, sir. Bolshevik Mehmet.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Do you know what Bolshevik means?
MEHMET: I do, sir. They’re the ones who led the revolution in the Soviet Union.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: (Shouts) Sergeant Mehmet! So what I’ve heard is true!
MEHMET: I don’t know what you’ve heard, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: (Angrily) I asked, and you told me. And you proudly say you know what it means. That nickname isn’t for nothing. Don’t make me lose my temper.
MEHMET: I know, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Sergeant Mehmet, everyone at headquarters calls you Bolshevik. I couldn’t believe it at first. I wanted to hear it from you. And I did.
MEHMET: I learned about Bolshevism from you, sir. Ever since you took me as your scribe, I’ve learned about Bolshevism and the Soviet revolution from our correspondence.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Well, that’s true, isn’t it? So why do the soldiers call you Bolshevik? I heard you’ve even explained Bolshevism and the Soviet revolution to a few friends in the barracks.
MEHMET: That’s true, sir. I did. The French, Italians, British, and Greeks have surrounded us from all sides. While our sultan and the Istanbul government have accepted defeat, if not now, when should we talk about a resistance like the War of Independence?
HAKKI BEY: (Shouts) Sergeant Mehmet, our National Forces spirit comes from these lands. What do we care about the Soviets?
MEHMET: Sir, everything I’ve learned, I learned from you. You ignited my National Forces spirit. While some say, “Let the snake that doesn’t bite me live a thousand years,” you and our pashas turned that spirit into a regular army. You raised the dead soil over the nation with patriotism, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: These lives are ready to die for the homeland.
MEHMET: Absolutely, sir. But you always said it’s intellect that will win this war, not muscle. The Bolsheviks walked to power with both their minds and hearts. They succeeded. We’ll win this war like they did.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Alright, Sergeant Mehmet. Don’t talk too much about the Bolsheviks at headquarters. Our goal is to strengthen our glorious army and drive out the enemy. An important order came from Kocatepe Headquarters. We need to report our weapons, ammunition, and troop numbers.
MEHMET: You’ll be pleased to hear this, sir. The soldiers were waiting for the Great Offensive. We finished the count this evening. Corporal Ragıp will bring the results soon, and we’ll send the telegram to Kocatepe.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Well done, Mehmet. I did well taking you under my wing the first day you arrived at the front. You’ve earned my respect even more. I’ve forgotten all the gossip about you.
MEHMET: The soldiers are eager to send the Greeks back home.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: The Commander-in-Chief and İsmet Pasha want to know the strength of all units on the Western Front. With a pasha who turned our regional struggle into a national war of independence, we’ll achieve victory, Sergeant Mehmet. You can be sure of that.
MEHMET: All the soldiers are certain of victory, sir. But there’s still some confusion.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: What’s confusing the soldiers?
MEHMET: There’s a rumor in the army that after the victory, Commander-in-Chief Mustafa Kemal Pasha will dissolve the assembly and become a dictator with the sultanate and caliphate.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: (Laughs) Sergeant Mehmet, I don’t even entertain the possibility. Did you hear this rumor with your own ears? Those whose interests are threatened are trying to sow discord in our army. Let no one fall for it. The nation will overcome this too. Rest easy.
MEHMET: Yes, sir, the soldiers are talking about it.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: It’s hard to believe. But it’s in the nature of Anatolian soil—what you sow, you reap. We’ve changed that seed. We’ve been planting it since Samsun. That seed is called Republic, Sergeant Mehmet. (Raises his voice) Republic!
MEHMET: Like the Bolsheviks’ socialism?
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: No, Sergeant Mehmet. No. The regime in the Soviet Union is called dictatorship. But ours will be a Republic, giving sovereignty unconditionally to the nation. This will happen under Mustafa Kemal Pasha’s leadership, with his comrade-in-arms İsmet Pasha and us. It will grow and flourish as young Republic guardians like you pass these seeds to future generations.
MEHMET: I believe the army’s concerns will fade, sir. There are still many loyal to the sultan in our army. We’ll win the war against the enemy and achieve victory. But the war within us will continue.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: As long as we have intelligent and capable young people like you, we’ll deal with the enemy within too. Don’t worry. For example, when you return to your village, you’ll tell them about the Republic. You’ll teach your children. You’ll show new generations that our national war of independence wasn’t fought in vain. Your fight won’t be a victory of bayonets but a triumph of enlightenment for the future. Together, we’ll raise generations that value freedom and independence. (The commander’s postman enters.)
SIRRI: Sir, a new telegram has arrived.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Let me see. If it came at this hour, it must be important. (Reads the telegram) Sergeant Mehmet, we need to send the count results to Kocatepe Headquarters immediately. We don’t have much time left for the Great Offensive. Look at the telegram. The day is near. Victory day. Isn’t it, Sergeant Mehmet? Isn’t it, Corporal Sırrı?
MEHMET: (Shouts) Yes, sir. Victory day is near!
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: Sergeant Mehmet, our corps is in the main assault zone. The Greeks have two reinforced divisions. Though we’re equal in numbers, they’re definitely superior in weaponry.
MEHMET: Sir, no matter the situation, the soldiers’ only thought is defeating the enemy. We’ll win this war no matter what. The soldiers received letters and items from their villages, reconciled, and made peace. We’re ready to march at dawn, sir.
KEMALETTİN SAMİ: This is our debt to our ancestors and our duty to our descendants. This homeland is our tender love. Never forget what you’ve pledged your lives to. God be with you. (The stage darkens.)
ACT II
SCENE I
(1938, Mehmet Bey’s one-room village school in the Eastern Black Sea region where he teaches)
MEHMET: Ayşe, tell me, which anniversary of our Republic’s founding are we celebrating this year?
AYŞE: The fifteenth, teacher.
MEHMET: Well done, Ayşe, you can sit. Süleyman, tell me, who is our President?
SÜLEYMAN: Great Leader Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.
MEHMET: Children, who is our President? (The entire class repeats Süleyman’s answer in unison.)
MEHMET: Well done, Süleyman. Well done, children. (Turns to Kemal in the middle row) Kemal, what’s going on there? What are you hiding under your desk? If you’re hiding it, you must not want to share it with us.
KEMAL: Nothing, teacher. (Kemal lowers his head.)
MEHMET: We’ll see about that. (Approaches Kemal) Let’s see what Kemal’s hiding from us. (Kemal is hiding a Turkish flag under his desk.)
MEHMET: Son, that flag in your hand is stained with the blood of Ayşe’s, Mustafa’s, and thousands of martyred fathers, and hundreds of veterans like me. You don’t hide this flag—you display it with pride. Come on, take it and hang it on the window with Ayşe. (Murtaza, headscarf on, enters the classroom angrily.)
MURTAZA: Teacher Mehmet Efendi, who do you think you are, insisting on bringing my daughter to school? Answer me!
MEHMET: Calm down, Murtaza. What do you think this place is? Shame on you. In front of all these children, you’re setting a bad example and ruining your daughter’s future.
MURTAZA: Look at you! Are we supposed to take advice from you, Mehmet Efendi? You’re leading my daughter astray with those infidel letters. What does a girl need with reading and writing? Let her stay home and learn the Quran. She’ll be married off in a few years anyway.
MEHMET: (Points to the door) Let’s step outside, Murtaza. We can’t talk like this in front of the children. (Murtaza grabs his daughter’s arm and drags her toward the door. She cries.)
MEHMET: Hold on, Murtaza! First, this place is as sacred as a mosque. In these schools, we raise the children we entrust with our homeland—your daughter, my son, our children. They’ll grow and make the seeds we’ve sown in Anatolia flourish. And you stand here spouting nonsense? What do you mean, “I won’t let my daughter study”?
MURTAZA: No way. I won’t let my daughter study, Mehmet Efendi. My mind’s made up. My children will grow up devout.
MEHMET: (Angrily) Murtaza! You’ll face me first. Go home and cool off. Anger leads to regret. I’ll bring Ayşe home. We’ll sit and talk tonight. Alright?
MURTAZA: (Calms down) Mehmet Efendi, know that I’ll never change my mind. A man’s word is final. In our family, everyone studied at the dervish lodge, learned the Quran, and went about their business. You’re teaching my daughter this nonsense.
MEHMET: (Takes Murtaza’s arm and leads him outside) Come on, Murtaza. We’ll talk tonight.
MURTAZA: Fine, Mehmet Efendi. This time, as you say. But I’ll never back down from this decision. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
MEHMET: Alright, Murtaza. We’ll talk tonight. (Mehmet sees the village headman passing by and calls out.)
MEHMET: Hey, Muhtar, where are you rushing off to?
MUHTAR: To the village house. I sent word with Hızır for everyone to gather. Come along.
MURTAZA: (Steps in front of the muhtar) Uncle Muhtar, wait! What’s the rush? News from the square?
MUHTAR: We heard on the radio at the coffeehouse. Gazi Kemal passed away this morning. My knees buckled. I ran to tell the villagers. (Mehmet leans against the door. Ayşe and his son Kemal join him from the classroom.)
AYŞE: Kemal and I hung the flag on the window, teacher. Is it alright?
MEHMET: Well done, children. Well done. (The stage darkens.)
SCENE II
(November 19, 1938. Morning, in front of the mosque. The village elders gather for a funeral prayer.)
HABIB: O congregation, today is our nation’s darkest day. I couldn’t go to the front because of my arm injury. My dear friends, Gazi Mehmet, Şevki, Rıza, you are my witnesses—I swore to protect the Republic’s legacy for years. Know that this nation owes so much to our Great Leader. Today, his funeral prayer will be held in Ankara. I will lead a symbolic prayer for this great man here.
MUHTAR: O people! Nine days have passed since our Great Leader Atatürk passed away…
ŞEVKİ: (Interrupts) Habib Hoca, you’re a true hero. As long as we have imams like you, the homeland and Republic are in safe hands. Right, people? (Everyone except Murtaza nods in agreement with Gazi Şevki.)
MEHMET: Today is a painful day for us all. Our Great Leader was also our head teacher. Many of you don’t know that. But today, something very upsetting happened. Murtaza came to the school and said he wouldn’t let his daughter study, in front of all the children. (The villagers turn to Murtaza.)
MUHTAR: Is that so, Murtaza?
MEHMET: Children come from neighboring villages to study in our school. Ours is the only village in the district with a school, thanks to my commander Kemalettin Sami Bey. You all know he built this school.
MUHTAR: How could I not know, Mehmet? The district governor told me when he summoned me. The school was built with Kemalettin Sami Bey’s financial and moral support.
MEHMET: Yes, Muhtar, I wrote to my commander. He didn’t turn down my request.
MUHTAR: Our war veteran teacher Mehmet worked hard to bring a school to our village for our children to study. And look at what you’ve done, Murtaza. Shame. What a shame.
MURTAZA: Hold on!
MEHMET: Why are you still being stubborn, Murtaza?
MUHTAR: Alright, Mehmet, you’ll talk to Murtaza later. He’ll rethink his decision and come to the right one. Right, Murtaza?
MURTAZA: (Shouts) O people! How quickly you forgot our dervish lodges and tekkes. These schools are leading our children, then us, astray from our faith. Stop this infidel game and work to reopen our lodges. Which Muslim calls God “Tanrı”? Why are you silent? Say something!
HABIB: (Angrily) Murtaza! Murtaza!
MURTAZA: What, Habib Hoca? Am I wrong? Won’t you have the congregation say “Tanrı uludur” instead of “Allahu Akbar” during the funeral prayer? Tell me. (Habib Hoca takes a step toward Murtaza.)
MEHMET: Habib, calm down. Don’t fall for this man’s antics. Can’t you see he’s stirring trouble?
HABIB: You’re right, Mehmet. Come on, everyone, line up. (The congregation gathers in front of Habib Hoca.)
HABIB: Tanrı uludur.
VILLAGERS: Tanrı uludur.
HABIB: Peace be upon you.
VILLAGERS: Peace be upon you. (The stage darkens.)
SCENE III
(1943, Mehmet Bey’s house)
KEMAL: (Enters with a letter) Mother, Mother, a letter’s arrived!
FATMA: Let me see, son. Did you see who it’s from? KEMAL: I did, Mother. It’s from Uncle Cemal.
FATMA: A letter from Cemal, Mehmet!
MEHMET: (Excited) Really? Bring it here, Fatma! In his last letter, he wrote that he secretly married Hamdi Bey’s daughter, an Ottoman pasha’s daughter, in Istanbul. Her family disowned her for marrying against their wishes, so they settled in Adana, where he was working. After that, his letters came from different cities.
FATMA: Nur-u Nisa. She must really love Cemal. She defied her family and followed him all the way there. A pasha’s daughter, no less. She left that lavish life behind for her beloved. Bravo to her.
MEHMET: Cemal mentioned Nur-u Nisa in one of his letters when he was studying at the university in Istanbul. They met at a demonstration in Beyazıt Square, fell deeply in love quickly, and decided to marry.
KEMAL: Father, aren’t you going to open the letter? What did Uncle write? (Mehmet opens and reads the letter.)
FATMA: What does it say? No bad news, I hope?
MEHMET: (Surprised) No, dear, they’re doing well and healthy. They’re coming here. Based on the date of the letter, they’ve already set out and should be here tomorrow evening, I think.
KEMAL: Hooray! Uncle’s coming!
FATMA: Son, be quiet. Yaşar’s sleeping inside. You’ll wake your brother. Really, Mehmet? Are Cemal and Nur-u Nisa coming here?
MEHMET: (Excitedly) Yes, yes, dear, tomorrow we’ll prepare. After all these years, my brother Cemal is coming to our hearth. We’ll set two more plates at our table. I’ll go to the square tomorrow to get some supplies. The pantry’s running low. You ask for cheese and butter from the highlands. Since he kept the letter short, they might stay for a while.
FATMA: Don’t worry, my Mehmet. I’ll prepare everything tomorrow. Let them come safely. Did he write anything else?
MEHMET: No, dear, just asking about our well-being. Like I said, he kept it short this time.
FATMA: Then let’s go to bed early tonight. (Yaşar’s crying is heard from the inner room.)
FATMA: See, you woke your brother, Kemal. Go inside, son. (The next day, all preparations are made, and the household awaits the guests.)
MEHMET: Sugar was so expensive. That grocer Remzi keeps hiking prices. In these tough times, it’s too much. Doesn’t he care if people are struggling? Some can afford it, some can’t!
FATMA: Don’t upset yourself, my Mehmet. Look, your brother Cemal is coming. He’ll be here any moment. Look at your son Kemal, watching the road for hours.
MEHMET: (Laughs) My brave boy’s excited. He’s only known his uncle from letters and will see him for the first time in years. It’s only natural.
KEMAL: (Shouts and runs to the door) They’re coming! Uncle’s coming! Mother, look! Two people turned the corner. Is that Uncle and Aunt?
FATMA: It’s too dark to see clearly, son. It must be them. Bless our eyes, thank God for reuniting us. (Cemal and Nur-u Nisa enter with two wooden suitcases.)
CEMAL: Brother! My lion of a brother! (Hugs Mehmet)
MEHMET: Cemal, my brave brother. We’ve missed your voice, your face. (Fatma and Nur-u Nisa greet each other and embrace.)
KEMAL: Uncle, Uncle! (Cemal lifts Kemal into his arms.)
CEMAL: You’ve become a big man!
FATMA: Come, catch your breath. I made some ayran. It’ll ease your fatigue.
CEMAL: You shouldn’t have troubled yourself, sister-in-law. We’d have managed.
MEHMET: Cemal, you did well bringing your wife to the family hearth. I was starting to lose hope, honestly.
CEMAL: It’s late, but we’re finally here. (Fatma serves ayran on a tray, offering it to Nur-u Nisa last.)
FATMA: Here, sister, drink. I made it with cold water.
NUR-U NISA: (Shyly) Thank you. Your hands are blessed.
MEHMET: Fatma, did you prepare the bedding? They’re tired from the journey. Go rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.
KEMAL: (Jumps on Cemal) Father, I want to sleep with Uncle and Aunt!
FATMA: No way, son. They’re tired. Don’t bother your uncle. We’ve got plenty of time.
KEMAL: (Laughs) Father taught us that saying at school. But they’re still here, right?
MEHMET: Well done, son. Go to your room now. We’ll take the animals to graze early tomorrow. By the time breakfast is ready, your uncle and aunt will be up, and we’ll eat together.
CEMAL: Alright then, good night to everyone. (They go to the inner room.)
FATMA: Mehmet, did you notice?
MEHMET: Notice what, dear? She’s very shy, is that it?
FATMA: No, no, that’s true, but she’s very refined. Congratulations, you’re going to be an uncle, Mehmet. Nur-u Nisa is pregnant. She wore loose clothes to hide it. Didn’t you see?
MEHMET: Nothing escapes your eyes, woman. Why would Cemal travel with a pregnant woman? Isn’t that dangerous?
FATMA: It’s probably early in her pregnancy. It’ll be fine.
MEHMET: Then there must be something else important. Let’s see, Cemal will tell us tomorrow. Come on, dear, let’s sleep. Tomorrow will bring clarity. (The next day, at the house.)
KEMAL: Father, haven’t Uncle and Aunt woken up yet?
FATMA: They’re up, son. They’ll be here soon. (Cemal and Nur-u Nisa enter.)
CEMAL: Kemal, did you take the animals out just to come see us?
KEMAL: Yes, Uncle. CEMAL: What do you think your Aunt Nur-u Nisa is holding?
KEMAL: Mother, look, Uncle and Aunt got me a gift!
NUR-U NISA: Here you go, Kemal. (Kemal opens the wrapped gift.)
MEHMET: No thank you, son?
KEMAL: Thank you, Uncle.
FATMA: Just to Uncle? Thank your aunt too, son.
KEMAL: Thank you, Aunt.
NUR-U NISA: Your uncle said you got into Kars Cilavuz Village Institute this year. So we thought we’d get you these two volumes of La Fontaine’s Fables.
CEMAL: When your father wrote that you got into Kars Cilavuz Village Institute, I said, “My lion of a nephew!” We thought the best gift would be books.
MEHMET: Good thinking.
KEMAL: (Reads the cover) La Fontaine’s Fables, translated by Orhan Veli Kanık. (Excited) Father, you told us about these fables at school, didn’t you?
MEHMET: Yes, son. Well done, you didn’t forget.
NUR-U NISA: Kemal, they might teach these at the Institute, or they might not. But you must learn your history and past well.
MEHMET: Your aunt’s absolutely right.
FATMA: Mehmet, why should our child learn those La Fayton fables when we have our own stories and tales?
CEMAL: (Laughs) Not La Fayton, Fatma, La Fontaine’s Fables.
NUR-U NISA: Of course, he should know our own tales to compare them with other nations’. Orhan Veli is a poet, but he translated these foreign fables into Turkish for children to learn.
CEMAL: Kemal, aren’t you going to open the other wrapped package?
KEMAL: Mother, look, another gift!
CEMAL: One’s from me, the other from Nur-u Nisa. (Kemal excitedly opens the other gift.)
KEMAL: But this is a book too.
MEHMET: What, Kemal, not as excited as the first one? Were you expecting something else? KEMAL: No, Father, of course not. I’m thrilled.
MEHMET: What’s that book?
KEMAL: Folk Stories and Tales, by Naki Tezel.
NUR-U NISA: Kemal, we got you a book by a Turkish author and one by a foreign author.
KEMAL: Why?
CEMAL: We’ll talk about it next summer when we meet again, alright? I think you’ll understand then. (Kemal takes one of the books.)
KEMAL: Father, I’m going to the meadow with the animals. I’ll finish one of the books by evening. (Leaves)
FATMA: Look at the reading enthusiasm in that boy, his uncle, and aunt. I hope it doesn’t get him into trouble. But it’s clear my brave boy will become a great man.
MEHMET: Come, Cemal, sit. We’re finally alone.
FATMA: Yes, indeed! It seems a guest is coming to your family too. (Smiles)
NUR-U NISA: I wore such loose clothes, but it didn’t escape your eyes.
FATMA: I’m the village midwife. Didn’t Cemal tell you?
MEHMET: Yes, Cemal, why aren’t you sharing this news with joy? I don’t understand. It’s like the baby’s a harbinger of doom, not joy.
CEMAL: No, brother, it’s not like that, of course. Nur-u Nisa and I are thrilled. But her father said if she has this child, he’ll completely disown her.
MEHMET: We knew her father didn’t approve of your marriage. But I thought a grandchild might soften his heart and he’d forgive her.
NUR-U NISA: On the contrary, after we told him about the baby, his anger grew even more. FATMA: Oh, what a shame!
CEMAL: We didn’t know what to do, so we came to consult you.
MEHMET: It’s a tough situation, truly, but you’ve overcome so much already. This child must be born. You should continue fighting as stubbornly as you have until now.
NUR-U NISA: You don’t know my father, Mehmet Bey. My family’s influence stretches from one end of Anatolia to the other. He’s done everything to make me leave Cemal and return, constantly transferring him from city to city.
CEMAL: Brother, I have a request. Or rather, we have a request.
MEHMET: What’s that, Cemal? You’re my brother. A request, really?
CEMAL: Nur-u Nisa will give birth in three, maybe three and a half months. She wants to have the baby here, if you think it’s appropriate, of course.
MEHMET: Cemal, I don’t care how old you are, I’ll give you a beating. It’s shameful to even ask. This is your family hearth too, of course, brother.
CEMAL: (Hugs Mehmet) Thank you, my brother. Thank you. (The stage darkens.)
SCENE IV
(1952, Mehmet Bey’s house)
FATMA: My Mehmet, a letter came from Kemal. He wrote that teaching in Urfa is very tough. But he and Nehir quickly won over the village agha.
MEHMET: My brave son and daughter-in-law.
FATMA: Look, they sent a photo too. Kemal’s with his students and Nehir. They’re far from us, but what my son’s doing is sacred, isn’t it, Mehmet?
MEHMET: Kemal didn’t let me down, Fatma. He graduated first from Kars Cilavuz Village Institute and chose to teach in Urfa instead of our hometown. Voluntarily. I’m so proud of him.
FATMA: Look at Habib’s son, Süleyman. He couldn’t handle the pressure and stayed in the square. Then he became a teacher here. He was always a thorn in Kemal and Nehir’s love, right up until they married. How can someone be so spiteful? He’s nothing like his father.
MEHMET: You’re right, dear. But look at our younger son. He didn’t take after me at all. He always went against everything I said.
FATMA: Don’t say that, my Mehmet. Yaşar is our blood, our life.
MEHMET: Where did I go wrong, Fatma?
FATMA: My brave Mehmet, why do you blame yourself? Please don’t do this.
MEHMET: No, Fatma, no. I always favored Kemal and didn’t give Yaşar the attention he deserved. Kemal became a teacher, got married, and will soon give us grandchildren.
FATMA: Mehmet, you mentioning grandchildren breaks my heart. Yaşar opened up to me the other day. He’s fallen in love with a girl from the neighboring village. (Habib Hoca calls from the door.)
HABIB: Mehmet, are you home?
MEHMET: Come in, Habib, we’re here. (Habib Hoca enters, out of breath and anxious.)
HABIB: Mehmet, my boy’s done it again.
FATMA: What happened, Habib? What did your boy do?
HABIB: I don’t know what sin I committed to deserve this torment from him. He’s gone mad, I tell you. My father had a temper, but not like this.
MEHMET: Habib, don’t drive us crazy. What did Süleyman do?
HABIB: He beat a senior student and ruptured his eardrum. The boy’s father came to my house today.
FATMA: No way! Your boy’s completely lost it, Habib Hoca.
MEHMET: Hold on, dear. Sit down, Habib, catch your breath and tell us properly.
HABIB: Two months ago, he beat another kid and broke his arm. This isn’t the first time. But I only learned about it all today.
MEHMET: Habib, you’re like my brother, you know that. I’ll speak plainly. Your son is like my own, but I’ve been a teacher. It’s a tough job, a patient one. But your boy doesn’t teach with love. Beating kids—what’s that about?
HABIB: Yes, when your son said he’d go to the Village Institute, Süleyman said he’d go too. He was always watching Kemal and Nehir when they met at the fountain. I saw it myself several times coming back from the field.
FATMA: Look at that! We always wondered why he was after our son’s beloved. He did everything to get in their way.
HABIB: He was always jealous of Kemal—his hard work, his marriage, even you, Fatma.
MEHMET: Listen, Habib. I think you should sit down with Süleyman and talk. His jealousy and anger will hurt us all.
HABIB: You’re right, Mehmet.
MEHMET: Fatma, brew some tea, let’s have it with sugar cubes.
FATMA: I was just about to say that, Mehmet, you took the words out of my mouth. We’ve spoken harshly, but let’s sweeten our mouths. What do you say, Habib Hoca?
HABIB: Sure, it’s been a while since we sat together. (A voice comes from the door.)
VOICE: Sister Fatma! Sister Fatma!
FATMA: (Two gendarmes stand at the door) Come in, son. What’s the matter?
JANDARMA: Is Yaşar home, Sister Fatma?
FATMA: No, son. Why are you looking for Yaşar?
JANDARMA: There’s a complaint against him. He’s under investigation for being a member of a secret organization and inciting rebellion.
FATMA: My son wouldn’t do such things.
MEHMET: (Comes to the door) Son, what secret organization? Yaşar grew up before our eyes. Who’s accusing my son?
JANDARMA: I can’t give you that information, Uncle Mehmet.
MEHMET: Look, son, Yaşar’s not home right now. As soon as he comes back tonight, I’ll bring him to the station myself tomorrow. Go now, alright?
JANDARMA: We need to search the house. (Steps inside) Which is Yaşar’s room?
FATMA: Wait, son, hold on. What’s the rush? You’re barging into the hearth of war veteran Mehmet. What’s this audacity?
MEHMET: Calm down, Fatma. Let them in. They’re just following orders. I won’t stand against my state’s soldiers. That’s Yaşar’s room, son. Go look. (The gendarmes enter the room and come out with a few books.)
JANDARMA: We’re taking these books to the station. Uncle Mehmet, bring Yaşar to the station tomorrow morning. (The gendarmes leave.)
HABIB: Mehmet, my brother, sit down. You’re pale as a ghost. Fatma, get a glass of water quick. (Habib helps Mehmet to the divan.)
FATMA: Here, Mehmet, drink. You look awful. Don’t worry, everything about Yaşar is a setup. I’m sure of it.
MEHMET: Sure, am I? Fatma, what if the gendarmes are right? One of the books they took was by Nazım Hikmet. I talked to Yaşar about it recently. He denied it, of course.
FATMA: What did you talk about? What did he deny?
MEHMET: Fatma, Yaşar is a member of a secret organization. It’s true. I saw him reading in his room once. He said he was reading Nazım Hikmet’s poems. You’ve heard of him—the communist poet stripped of citizenship, Nazım Hikmet Ran.
HABIB: Then the gendarmes were right, Mehmet. Who ratted out Yaşar to the station?
YAŞAR: Who else? Your swindling, scheming son, of course. (Yaşar enters from the door.)
YAŞAR: Yes, Habib Hoca. Your son ratted me and my friends out to the gendarmes.
FATMA: (Takes Yaşar’s hands and presses them to her face) My Yaşar, what have you done, son?
YAŞAR: I don’t regret anything I’ve done, Mother. I told Father when we talked last time. This is my life, and I’m fully responsible for my decisions.
HABIB: What are you saying, Yaşar? Why would Süleyman report you to the station?
YAŞAR: Revenge!
MEHMET: (Trembling) Be quiet, Yaşar. Don’t say too much. We’re going to the station early tomorrow. Go to your room now.
HABIB: Wait, Mehmet, let him say what he has to.
YAŞAR: Father, wait, I’m not done talking to Habib Hoca.
MEHMET: (Sadly) So my word no longer counts in this house, Fatma.
YAŞAR: The government first changed the Turkish call to prayer back to Arabic. They stripped the constitution of Turkish idioms and expressions. They closed the People’s Houses that spread the Republic to the masses. I’m fighting against this.
FATMA: Yaşar, my son, this isn’t the time or place. Is this your fight to take on? These are government matters. It’s beyond us.
YAŞAR: Your swindling son is now venting his hatred for my brother by ratting me out, Uncle Habib. My ideas and beliefs may seem absurd to you and Father. You might call them dreams. But unlike your son, I haven’t lost my virtues. MEHMET: (Shouts) Go inside, Yaşar!
YAŞAR: Your son has lost his humanity, disregarding virtue for revenge, forgetting honesty, trampling pride and honor, and not even hesitating to take his anger out on young children.
FATMA: Son, you’re being unfair to Uncle Habib.
HABIB: Your son is right in everything he says.
YAŞAR: Uncle Habib, forgive me, but your son ratting me and my friends out is one thing, but more importantly, I can’t imagine a person like him being a teacher or the kind of generation someone with his character would raise. Don’t be surprised if people like him lead us in the future.
HABIB: Your son is absolutely right, Mehmet. You should be as proud of Yaşar as you are of Kemal. (Yaşar goes to Mehmet and kisses his hand.)
YAŞAR: Father, I can’t come to the station with you tomorrow. Tonight, I’m crossing the border with my friends. I knew they’d raid the house. I came to say goodbye to you and Mother. (Mehmet hugs Yaşar and cries.) (The stage darkens.)
SCENE V
(1961, Mehmet Bey’s house, listening to the radio news)
RADIO: According to breaking news, Hasan Ali Yücel, founder of the Village Institutes, former Minister of Education, and parliamentarian, passed away from a heart attack at his friend Dr. Tevfik Sağlam’s home. (Mehmet is deeply saddened by the news. Seeing his condition, Fatma calls out to Yaşar.)
FATMA: Yaşar, my boy, come quick to your father. Hurry, he’s not well.
YAŞAR: Father, are you alright?
FATMA: My Mehmet, pillar of my home. What happened to make you feel like this?
MEHMET: It’s nothing, dear. I’m fine.
YAŞAR: (Calls to Kemal outside) Brother, Hasan Ali Yücel has passed away.
FATMA: (Gives Mehmet water) How are you now? Did you take your medicine today?
YAŞAR: He took it, Mother. I gave it to him today.
MEHMET: Dear, the nation lost a revolutionary of enlightenment today. (Kemal enters with his friend Hasan from the Village Institute.)
KEMAL: He came to Kars Cilavuz Village Institute. I remember it like it was yesterday. Just today, Hasan and I looked at photos we took at the Institute. Father’s right. We lost a very important person today.
FATMA: Kemal, wasn’t he the Minister who gave you your first-place award?
KEMAL: Yes, Mother. That’s him.
HASAN: At the graduation ceremony, we performed folk dances and sang songs. That year, we performed our play Republic in the amphitheater we built with our own hands.
MEHMET: My Kemal played Atatürk. My brave son, you made my chest swell with pride that day.
KEMAL: Hasan, you recited a poem that day. Do you still remember it? It was by Hasan Ali Yücel, wasn’t it?
HASAN: Of course, Kemal. My students recite it to me every Teacher’s Day. Shall I recite it?
MEHMET: Please do, son.
HASAN: *Half of fifty years is work and progress; The other half, fighting and distress. No one knows who won, who lost in the end; Some called me nothing, others praised and commend.
I fell for the nation’s cause, seeking justice in strife, They said I did wrong where I aimed for right. My wish was this: A state unbound, a homeland free; A peaceful life for Turks in liberty.
On August sixth, I stepped down from my post, Then attacks came from every side, at most. Every word ending in “-ist” was me, they claimed; I could no longer recognize myself, ashamed.
If it ends in “-ist,” how could I not be communist? Some called me fascist, a hundred percent enlist. In their confused eyes, I was a socialist, Communist, fascist, anti-nationalist!*
MEHMET: Hasan Ali Yücel was one of the Republic’s enlightened minds. He was worn down and faced many injustices.
KEMAL: Once, the Speaker of the Parliament and his aides visited the Institute. The High Village Institutes were giving their second graduates. The Speaker asked if they were teaching us Turkish history and our past. Hasan gave a great answer. Remember, Hasan?
HASAN: How could I forget? Like it was yesterday. I told them, “Like other schools, our esteemed teachers teach history at our Institutes, sir.” It surprised the Speaker and his entourage.
KEMAL: The Speaker and his aides watched plays we wrote or selected from Ministry publications. After one, his aide said to the Speaker, “Instead of studying and writing about our glorious past, they read and perform Molière, Gogol, Pushkin, to embrace our national identity, sir.”
HASAN: Once, we performed The Inspector. The district governor wanted to stop it, claiming it demeaned the government. The people protested, gendarmes and police were called, but the inspectors’ report was against the governor.
KEMAL: Even back then, efforts to close the Village Institutes had begun. About seven years ago, they were completely shut down and turned into teacher training schools.
MEHMET: And thus, the Republic’s enlightenment era in education came to an end. (The stage darkens.)
(CURTAIN)
KÜRŞAT URAL 2008
