Passage # 43
To my ears, Erzurum
sounds very Eastern,
Armenian, Roman,
Seljuk, un-modern.
In Ankara, I board
a train with couchette
teeming with Turkish sounds,
my life a maquette.
We keep the window closed
against smoke and coals.
Lurch, thunk, bup-bup, bup-bup,
Our car rocks and rolls.
A family peers far
into my tense face,
She’s kerchiefed, a shy smile–
Iyi yolculuklar.*
Tiny glasses of tea appear.
They offer some.
The legendary
hospitality of Turkey
flows out.
I refuse them, of course.
She holds out tea again.
My face shows my doubt.
A third time she offers.
Çok teşekkürler.*
My right hand reaches out.
They smile and they share.
Erzincan.* So pleasant today.
An earthquake
in nineteen thirty-nine
was beyond poignant.
Thirty-three thousand dead
from blizzards and quakes.
The city abandoned,
rebuilt far from shakes.
The Euphrates. Our train
clings to a green gorge.
Nightfall. To pull down beds,
yank the cabin chain.
A man with a flourish
carries in blankets.
I tip. My family says
“Good night” in English.
Tunnel. The noise deafens
then Whoosh! pops away
like pounding, silenced drums,
rhythmic breakaway.
A shepherd calls his flock
with a wooden flute.
Faintly, two cars over
drones a Turkish lute.
With a hand to my ear,
a shake of my head,
I wait for the sound, lift
the foldaway bed.
“Saz.” The father leans back
and hums the folk tune.
Aman, aman,* he sings.
It seems he could swoon.
Peaches, bread, olives, cheese.
They offer. I eat.
I return with the çay
and pastries as treat.
Good-byes at Erzurum.
Güle, Güle, they say.
“Smile, smile,” the young boy grins.
Tear up on my way.
My paper flutters,
God!- my address!
A youth stoops and retrieves
out of politesse.
Teşekkürler, young man.
I must seem hapless,
but haul my bags curbside
already breathless.
As I climb stairs, I pant.
No striding steps in pairs.
Nineteen hundred meters
elevate my cares.
Bargaining for a cab
a test of language.
On.
üç.
yedi.
beş
Hop on with courage.
Clip.clop. Clip.clop, horse-drawn
phaeton bounces me
in open-air display–
patience is the key.
The waiting part is key.
The horse pulls us slow.
Believing is the key.
Allah sets the flow.
Who will be my colleagues?
Are David and Carol fair?
They wonder why I came
to Black Dragon’s Lair.
Exhausted by the air,
I gulp coffee down.
Nescafe! And mints
wipe away my frown.
Tired from the Turkish,
my English spurts out.
At University
will my students pout?
Palandöken’s summit
brightens our city.
The horse’s tired eyes
waken our pity.
Up high the molten snows–
earth full of fragrance–
taking off winter clothes,
the world picks up its cadence.
Glossary:
iyi yolculuklar: bon voyage
çok teşekkürler: thanks very much
aman, aman: a soulful refrain
çay: tea
güle, güle: smilingly, smilingly is said by the person remaining while the other person departs
on üç yedi beş: 10, 3, 7, 5
A Turkish folk song from Erzincan, along the banks of the Euphrates River.
Taner Özdemir – Fırat Kenarında Yüzen Kayıklar
The characteristic folk song form Erzurum
