Engin Akyurek maybe the best actor in the world ever-BIO/Updates pg4 - Page 96

KOR TALIH/BAD LUCK

By Engin Akyurek/Kafasina Gore

His old body was not among the regulars of the table at which I drank my tea. The old man who sold lottery tickets would show kindness and read poems to everybody but would never stop by at my table. Although the "National Lottery hat on his head would lighten his maturity that came with his age, he wore his wrinkles on his face like epaulettes he earned. It was as if an invisible hand came, laid him down, carbon copied his body, gave him back the copy of it and then the old man locked the original in a mothball smelled storage.
While I was sipping the best part of my tea, the old man came to my table for the first time and extended the tickets toward me with his old veined hands:
"Here, son.
"Thanks pop.
"Last three tickets left.
"Thanks, pop. I don't like chance games.
The old man's eyes shined like a cat eye. He was holding the last three tickets like creditors pounding at the door.
"Why?
"I don't like it. I'm afraid of losing my peace if I win.
"Last three tickets, buy one.
"Thanks, no pop.
His head under the hat looked like it was drawn with a fine tipped pencil. His face was sharp like his tongue and his eyes were like absorbing like a sponge. If I laughed, he would laugh. If I cried, he would burst into tears. People who lived through a lot would have such expression in their eyes. When he extended the last three tickets again:
"I don't like it.
"Why?
"You said only three left. Ticket sellers usually keep the last tickets for themselves. If someone is going to win, let it be you.
I had used an old knowledge as an excuse to get rid of him. Putting those tickets into inner pocket of his jacket, he said:
"I never buy the last tickets. Actually I never buy a ticket.
"How come?
Pushing the table he stood against, he had just hunkered down on the spot like a dry branch. His eyes turned from the eyes of a cat into the eyes of a tiger who caught its prey. When he raised his hand without saying a word and the waiter nodded, I understood that he wanted to drink some tea. He had looked into my eyes with a glance that smiles and cries at the same time and that makes him piss himself laughing while crying. When his tea was served, sipping his tea with a serious countenance, he said:
"Look son, I will tell you a story that I didn't tell anyone before.
He sounded peaceful and didactic:
"It was 1970. In those years, the first prize of the national lottery used to cause a lot of excitement so that rich or poor, everybody would wait the day the first prize would be announced. Anyway, there was a young man named Fehmi who lived in Istanbul. He was originally from Aksaray, Nigde. When he was 10 years old, his father moved to Istanbul after he had had it with his relatives and his townsmen. Fehmi barely finished middle school. Son, you know how it is when a little boy comes to a big city from a small town. Nowadays, it is very hard to tell peasants apart from townies. In those years, peasants would hesitate to get into teahouses to drink tea. Anyway, our Fehmi started selling lottery tickets during the day and working as a cab driver at night when he became a young man. I am telling all these to make you memorize the story better. He also loved a girl named Meral who is beautiful like a model. She would sometimes stare at him. However, she was a high school graduate and was born and raised in Istanbul. She had many suitors. Fehmi was an intelligent person and knew that her father would never consent their marriage. Fehmi and his girl used to stare at each other secretly but never got a chance to talk.
Fehmi started to suffer because of his love but he really loved his man-in-love image when he looked in the mirror. It gave his life a meaning. If he was going to cry, he cried inside. If he was going to laugh, his laughter was more meaningful. He used to tell himself "The worst case, we can elope. The girl's father Osman the English was a retired chief constable. They called him English because of his colored eyes and his hair slicked back with a lemon juice. He was so tall that he would not fit doors; he was so loud that people's ears would hurt; the smell of lemon on his hair was so strong that it arrived ahead of him. Shopkeepers knew him from his working days and used to call him Osman the Giaour (1). He was a very stubborn man. They say his wife died because of his stubbornness. According to rumor, she called him "Osman the Giaour before she gave her last breath and hence, he did not want to go to her wife's funeral and he was forcibly taken to the funeral. Therefore, it was very unlikely that he would allow her daughter to marry Fehmi. He would beat the hell out of anyone who called him "Giaour. As for Fehmi, he used to try to find a way to see Meral. One day, Fehmi caught Meral in a secluded place and told her that he loved her. The girl giggled and, throwing her hair back, said: "You're always sneaking around our house. My father will kill you if he catches you. They talked and talked. Fehmi said "I will kidnap you. The girl giggled again and pulled away in a way Fehmi could not understand. Son, I know I am talking your head off, but if a story is not told like this, then it tastes like a rotten sour apple. Anyway... Fehmi spent sleepless nights while thinking about what to do and finally decided to face the girl's father. He went to Osman the English with his parents and asked for his daughter's hand in marriage with the command of God and the word of the prophet. Osman stayed silent and showed them the door with his looks. Of course, Fehmi's mother is a proud woman and like every mother who was shown the door said "Osman the Giaour! Fehmi put his mind to kidnap Meral. The girl already gave him the signal. First, they would go to Nigde, to their village, then, God knows where. They would elope during the New Year because when Osman the English have a few too many Raki (2) he would sleep like a log. Fehmi was so excited that he could not sleep for days. He focused on his work not to make other people get suspicious.
On the New Year's Eve, Fehmi kissed his parents' hands and went to the teahouse. He started waiting among people who drink and dance. When the clock hit twelve, the National Lottery first prize drawing was live on TV. The owner of the teahouse, Ibo (short name for Ibrahim), poked Fehmi with his voice: "Fehmi, how many tickets did you keep for yourself? But Fehmi's mind was on Meral. When he was about to leave, Ibo again asked: "Your ticket? Fehmi pulled out the tickets from his inner pocket and sat in front of the TV not to draw Ibo's attention. Ibo was a friend with the Devil. He would immediately get suspicious and tell on him. The first prize numbers was being announced on the TV but Fehmi's eyes were on the clock rather than the numbers. The speaker said "7, 4, 6, 0, 5, 5, 6 and Fehmi suddenly said "oh my GOD. He said it in such a way that nobody understood what was going on. Then Fehmi started screaming like a crazy. He was about to lose it. People in the teahouse congratulated him, danced Halay with him, and happily carried him off the ground on their shoulders to Fehmi's house. While hugging his parents, he remembered Meral. He told his parents that he would ask her father for his daughter's hand in marriage like a rich person would do. Osman gave his consent when Fehmi asked for it. They got a wonderful wedding that lasted for three days and three nights. He loved Meral so much that he did whatever she asked for. Fehmi did not know anything about money anyways. They helped distance relatives, paid for other people's weddings and circumcision ceremonies in the neighborhood. Then, it was time for Fehmi's military service. Before getting a chance to sleep in his new house, he went to Sivas to do his military service. Meral got all his money to establish a business. Fehmi was a man who would give his everything to the woman he loved.
A long winter passed and Fehmi was counting to days for his discharge. But Meral hadn't been answering his phone calls or letters anymore. Fehmi felt that something was wrong. He got a permission from his commanders and set off for Istanbul. The door of his house was locked and there was no money in the bank. Even Osman the English did not know his daughter's whereabouts. Fehmi pensively got back to his post. Sometimes, he wanted to desert from his post but his parents stopped him saying that this was a national service. Time was so slow. He called his parents every day. He even called Osman the English. They notified the police and the gendarme. When he finished his military service and got back home, his mother cursed Meral and even called her "wh**e. Then his father slowly told him what happened. Meral withdrew all the money in the bank and eloped with another man to abroad. The, his parents received the divorce petition. His mother called her "wh**e again. Fehmi did not say a word. The divorce petition had hurt him the most and he suffered greatly. Osman the English was so ashamed that he could not get out of his house. That tall and well-built man became overweight and died of grief. Fehmi buried him when nobody wanted to bury him. On the trial day, Meral did not even look at his face at the court and told the judge "irreconcilable differences for her reason to divorce. She hired the best attorney in the country whereas Fehmi asked for a help from a lawyer in the neighborhood. Like every honored person would do, he said "if she wants a divorce, then let's divorce. Everybody told him not to give up his money but Fehmi did not care. All of these happened because of the money he won.
He sold the new house bought for himself and started drinking and gambling heavily. He went back to his parents' house after he lost everything. Since he did not have any occupation, he began to sell lottery tickets. Some people in the neighborhood mocked him for a while. He never kept the last tickets for himself again. He talked to himself a lot in the alehouse: "If I didn't win the lottery, I would be a happily married man with children. He never said a single bad word about Meral even though he sometimes thought about it. Son, Fehmi was sad about losing his beloved rather than his money. Therefore, I never buy the last tickets. As you pointed it out, I want to keep my inner peace.
The old man got up like a branch just turned green.
"Ok, pop. I will buy one.
"You misunderstood, son. I didn't tell this story to sell you a ticket.
"No, I really want to buy it.
"No ticket for you! Goodbye. Give your blessing for the tea.
"I do.
The old man went away, swinging the last three tickets in his hand. My tea had gotten cold and the old man's story and Fehmi had sat at my table. The waiter, putting my fresh tea on the table, said:
"Did he tell you?
"Tell me what?
"His story.
"What, was this his story?
"Very few people know the old man Fehmi's story. He doesn't tell it to everybody though.
"Really?
"Don't tell anybody but he had paid for my circumcision ceremony.
I was both astonished and sad. I heard the old man yelling:
"Last tickets!

(1) In Turkish, we have a word "Gavur which we use for people who are not Muslim.
(2) Traditional Turkish alcoholic drink.