“Selim!”
“Did you think that I would be so overpowered by sentimentality that I would really stay away tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you were wrong. Are you glad you were wrong?”
“Yes. But before you take your clothes off I want to know why you agreed to join the army.”
“To make it easier for everyone. They can say that Nilofer is married to a young officer under Halil. It sounds better than saying: ‘Nilofer is marrying our barber’s grandson. Yes, he’s a barber too and it will be so convenient for us because, from now on, we won’t need an outsider for the circumcisions.’”
I couldn’t help laughing, because he was mimicking my mother’s voice perfectly, but I knew instinctively that the joke was designed to conceal the truth. He would never have agreed to join the army to help preserve our family’s pride. On the contrary, he would have used the very words he put in my mother’s mouth himself whenever we had company simply in order to shock their sensibilities.
“I don’t believe you, Selim. I want the truth.”
“The officers are planning to get rid of the Sultan, his court, the clergy, their privileges, and who knows what else will fall when we push him off his throne? There is no political party in our country like the German Social Democratic Party or the French Socialist Party. Perhaps there never will be such a party, but till one comes into existence the army is a good place for me.
“But Selim,” I shouted at him, “what if there’s a war? You might be killed!”
“We’re too weak and poor to fight in any stupid war,” he laughed. “We won’t fight against our foreign enemies. If they attack, we’ll surrender quietly and quickly. The war we’re planning is against tradition and obscurantism at home. If we get rid of them, then we can build up our strength again.”
I was relieved. If he had agreed to Halil’s request simply in order to please me and appease my family, he would have become bitter sooner or later. The decision was his and taken for reasons of his own.
“Now you can take your clothes off and come to bed.”
He did as I asked.
“Nilofer,” he whispered as he put his arms around me, “tomorrow is an important day in both our lives and I think we should refrain from feeding our passions tonight. Let us just lie like this for some time and dream. Then I will leave so that we can both sleep well tonight. What do you think?”
I put my hand between his legs and felt an old friend rise. “I fear, Selim, that your mind is incapable of controlling your body. This is not good for a young officer.”
He began to laugh as his lips sought my nipples and I mounted him.
FIFTEEN
Nilofer sends Selim to clear his head by talking to the Stone Woman; he is surprised by the experience
‘MY NAME IS SELIM, O Stone Woman. I am Nilofer’s new husband and she has sent me here to meet you. She has told me about you, the secrets you guard, the effect you have on people, including some who are so private that they are unaware of their own problems. Is it true that for hundreds of years this was a place only women came to? I wonder why?
I know we are living in a time when everyone is unsure about the future and men also need to discuss their problems and worries. This used to be the case in the village where my father was born. Hasan Baba talks of the old days in our village, and how during the winter afternoons, men would gather once a week in a circle, blankets held tight around their shoulders, warming their hands by a fire as they spoke of their problems to each other and waited for someone to offer them sage advice. At these gatherings, they rarely spoke of their crops or the lack of water in the village or the rapacious tax-collectors, who, in lieu of money, insisted on other goods, including young women. These were not special problems. It was part of their everyday life.
The winter circles were organised to discuss personal problems and the younger men, too shy to speak in one particular winter, might none the less be emboldened to speak a few years hence. Hasan Baba says that there were very few inhibitions.
It was a mixed village with Armenians and Kurds, though we Turks were in the majority. The Armenians had some of the best land and, last year, the Kurds burnt their houses and drove them out of the village, though thankfully nobody was killed. After the Armenians had been driven out the winter gatherings came to an end. My grandfather says it disrupted the solidarity of the village and those who remained could not look each other in the eye. They had done something so terrible to their fellow-human beings that it was difficult to pretend they could solve each other’s problems.
I’m really surprised that anyone comes here at all, Stone Woman. From a distance you look like the remains of a pagan goddess, but from where I am you’re just a giant rock and it’s very uncomfortable sitting on this stone. Hundreds of delicate and well-cushioned posteriors have sat in the same place for many years. They should have made this stone smooth and soft. It is not easy for me to speak with a stone. I have never found it necessary, but Nilofer wanted to share you with me. The only thing I would not discuss with a close friend or my grandfather is the intimacy between Nilofer and me. That is our own precious secret. It is something so beautiful that we discuss it with each other every day. If, for some reason, I could not tell her certain things, I can see you might be useful, but not now.
There is one small problem. Young Orhan was a bit taken aback when Nilofer told him about us and for the first few days after the marriage ceremony, he became quite distant. He refused to speak with me or come for a walk on the cliffs as we often did during the day. He is getting better now and I’m sure he will be fine. His behaviour is not unnatural. No child wishes to see its father replaced, even if the father is dead. And if the father is alive and tormenting his wife and children, it is difficult to be disloyal. When I was Orhan’s age, I would sometimes hear my father beating my mother. I would put my fingers in my ears to banish her screams.
One day I came home unexpectedly and found my mother coupling with a stranger. Even though I knew my father was cruel, I still resented this man’s presence. When he left, I became very angry with my mother. I abused her and shed many tears of rage. My mother’s face was filled with terror. She thought I would tell my father. She said if ever I told my father of what I had seen, he would kill her without pity. She threatened me with fear.
I believed her, Stone Woman. My father claimed to believe in Sufi philosophy and he could certainly get intoxicated, sing the songs and dance all night, but it never affected his inner being. He may have been a dervish, but he was also an ignorant and a cruel man. I may have been upset at seeing my mother with another man, but that did not make me love my father. Naturally, I kept quiet and till this day I have never recalled that incident to anyone. Why have I told you?
It was at this time that my grandfather, with their approval, took me away from my parents and began to educate me in earnest. I learnt to read and write and later started to attend the medresseh. I have never seen my parents since that time. Eighteen years have passed and they showed not the slightest interest in me. I think of Hasan Baba as both my mother and my father.
One thing does worry me, Stone Woman. When my father learns of my marriage to the daughter of Iskander Pasha, he might decide to take advantage. He could arrive at the house on the pretext of paying his respects and seeing his new daughter-in-law, but in reality, to demand money. I have not mentioned this to Nilofer. She would laugh and treat it as inconsequential. You must understand that it is not my father’s poverty I am ashamed of, but his character. He is a disgusting and evil creature and I do not wish him to come to this house or visit us in Istanbul. I have mentioned this to Hasan Baba. It troubles him as well, but he is old and helpless now. He does not offer advice, but shakes his head despairingly and looks up towards the heavens.