I AM CALLED BLACK-1
I AM CALLED BLACK-1 (第1/3页)
AfteranabsenceoftwelveyearsIenteredIstanbullikeasleepwalker.“Theearthcalledtohim,”theysayofmenwhoareabouttodie,andinmycase,itwasdeaththatdrewmebacktothecitywhereI’dbeenbornandraised.
WhenIfirstreturned,Ithoughttherewasonlydeath;later,Iwouldalsoencounterlove.Love,however,wasadistantandforgottenthing,likemymemoriesofhavinglivedinthecity.ItwasinIstanbul,twelveyearsago,thatIfellhelplesslyinlovewithmyyoungcousin.
FouryearsafterIfirstleftIstanbul,whiletravelingthroughtheendlesssteppes,snow-coveredmountainsandmelancholycitiesofPersia,carryinglettersandcollectingtaxes,IadmittedtomyselfthatIwasslowlyforgettingthefaceofthechildhoodloveI’dleftbehind.Withgrowingpanic,Itrieddesperatelytorememberher,onlytorealizethatdespitelove,afacelongnotseenfinallyfades.DuringthesixthyearIspentintheEast,travelingorworkingasasecretaryintheserviceofpashas,IknewthatthefaceIimaginedwasnolongerthatofmybeloved.Later,intheeighthyear,IforgotwhatI’dmistakenlycalledtomindinthesixth,andagainvisualizedacompletelydifferentcountenance.Inthisway,bythetwelfthyear,whenIreturnedtomycityattheageofthirty-six,Iwaspainfullyawarethatmybeloved’sfacehadlongsinceescapedme.
Manyofmyfriendsandrelativeshaddiedduringmytwelve-yearexile.IvisitedthecemeteryoverlookingtheGoldenHornandprayedformymotherandfortheuncleswho’dpassedawayinmyabsence.Theearthysmellofmudmingledwithmymemories.Someonehadbrokenanearthenwarepitcherbesidemymother’sgrave.Forwhateverreason,gazingatthebrokenpieces,Ibegantocry.WasIcryingforthedeadorbecauseIwas,strangely,stillonlyatthebeginningofmylifeafteralltheseyears?OrwasitbecauseI’dcometotheendofmylife’sjourney?Afaintsnowfell.Entrancedbytheflakesblowinghereandthere,IbecamesolostinthevagariesofmylifethatIdidn’tnoticetheblackdogstaringatmefromadarkcornerofthecemetery.
Mytearssubsided.Iwipedmynose.IsawtheblackdogwaggingitstailinfriendshipasIleftthecemetery.Sometimelater,Isettledintoourneighborhood,rentingoneofthehouseswherearelativeonmyfather’ssideoncelived.ItseemsIremindedthelandladyofhersonwho’dbeenkilledbySafavidPersiansoldiersatthefrontandsosheagreedtocleanthehouseandcookforme.
IsetoutonlongandsatisfyingwalksthroughthestreetsasifI’dsettlednotinIstanbul,buttemporarilyinoneoftheArabcitiesattheotherendoftheworld.Thestreetshadbecomenarrower,orsoitseemedtome.Incertainareas,onroadssqueezedbetweenhousesleaningtowardoneanother,Iwasforcedtorubupagainstwallsanddoorstoavoidbeinghitbyladenpackhorses.Thereweremorewealthypeople,orsoitseemedtome.Isawanornatecarriage,acitadeldrawnbyproudhorses,thelikesofwhichcouldn’tbefoundinArabiaorPersia.Nearthe“BurntColumn,”Isawsomebothersomebeggarsdressedinragshuddlingtogetherasthesmellofoffalcomingfromthechicken-sellersmarketwaftedoverthem.Oneofthemwhowasblindsmiledashewatchedthefallingsnow.
HadIbeentoldIstanbulusedtobeapoorer,smallerandhappiercity,Imightnothavebelievedit,butthat’swhatmyhearttoldme.Thoughmybeloved’shousewaswhereit’dalwaysbeenamonglindenandchestnuttrees,otherswerenowlivingthere,asIlearnedfrominquiringatthedoor.Idiscoveredthatmybeloved’smother,mymaternalaunt,haddied,andthatherhusband,myEnishte,andhisdaughterhadmovedaway.ThisishowIcametolearnthatfatheranddaughterwerethevictimsofcertainmisfortunes,fromstrangersansweringthedoor,whoinsuchsituationsareperfectlyforthcoming,withouttheleastawarenessofhowmercilesslythey’vebrokenyourheartanddestroyedyourdreams.Iwon’tdescribeallofthistoyounow,butallowmetosaythatasIrecalledwarm,verdantandsunnysummerdaysinthatoldgarden,Ialsonoticediciclesthesizeofmylittlefingerhangingfromthebranchesofthelindentreeinaplacewhosemisery,snowandneglectnowevokednothingbutdeath.
I’dalreadylearnedaboutsomeofwhathadbefallenmyrelativesthroughalettermyEnishtesenttomeinTabriz.Inthatletter,heinvitedmebacktoIstanbul,explainingthathewaspreparingasecretbookforOurSultanandthathewantedmyhelp.He’dheardthatforaperiodwhileinTabriz,ImadebooksforOttomanpashas,provincialgovernorsandIstanbulites.WhatIdidthenwastousethemoneyadvancedbyclientswho’dplacedmanuscriptordersinIstanbultolocateminiaturistsandcalligrapherswhowerefrustratedbythewarsandthepresenceofOttomansoldiers,buthadn’tyetleftforKazvinoranotherPersiancity,anditwasthesemasters—complainingofpovertyandneglect—whomIcommissionedtoinscribe,illustrateandbindthepagesofthemanuscriptsIwouldthensendbacktoIstanbul.Ifitweren’tfortheloveofillustratingandfinebooksthatmyEnishteinstilledinmeduringmyyouth,Icouldhaveneverinvolvedmyselfinsuchpursuits.
Atthemarketendofthestreet,whereatimemyEnishtehadlived,Ifoundthebarber,amasterbytrade,inhisshopamongthesamemirrors,straightrazors,pitchersofwaterandsoapbrushes.Icaughthiseye,butI’mnotsureherecognizedme.Itdelightedmetoseethatthehead-washingbasin,whichhungbyachainfromtheceiling,stilltracedthesameoldarc,swingingbackandforthashefilleditwithhotwater.
SomeoftheneighborhoodsandstreetsI’dfrequentedinmyyouthhaddisappearedinashesandsmoke,replacedbyburntruinswherestraydogscongregatedandwheremadtransientsfrightenedthelocalchildren.Inotherareasrazedbyfire,largeaffluenthouseshadbeenbuilt,andIwasastonishedbytheirextravagance,bywindowsofthemostexpensiveVianstainedglass,andbylavishtwo-storyresidenceswithbaywindowssuspendedabovehighwalls.
Asinmanyothercities,moneynolongerhadanyvalueinIstanbul.AtthetimeIreturnedfromtheEast,bakeriesthatoncesoldlargeone-hundreddrachmaloavesofbreadforonesilvercoinnowbakedloaveshalfthesizeforthesameprice,andtheynolongertastedthewaytheydidduringmychildhood.Hadmylatemotherseenthedaywhenshe’dhavetospendthreesilverpiecesforadozeneggs,she’dsay,“Weoughttoleavebeforethechickensgrowsospoiledthey**onusinsteadoftheground.”ButIknewtheproblemofdevaluedmoneywasthesameeverywhere.ItwasrumoredthatFlemishandVianmerchantshipswerefilledwithchestsofcounterfeitcoin.Attheroyalmint,wherefivehundredcoinswereoncemintedfromahundreddrachmasofsilver,now,owingtotheendlesswarringwiththePersians,eighthundredcoinsweremintedfromthesameamount.WhenJanissariesdiscoveredthatthecoinsthey’dbeenpaidactuallyfloatedintheGoldenHornlikethedriedbeansthatfellfromthevegetable-sellerspier,theyrioted,besiegingOurSultan’spalaceasifitwereanenemyfortress.
AclericbythenameofNusret,whopreachedattheBayazidMosqueandclaimedtobedescendedfromOurGloriousProphetMuhammad,hadmadeanameforhimselfduringthisperiodofimmorality,inflation,crimeandtheft.
Thishoja,whowasfromthesmalltownofErzurum,attributedthecatastrophesthathadbefallenIstanbulinthelasttenyears—includingtheBah?ekap?andKazanj?lardistrictfires,theplaguesthatclaimedtensofthousands,theendlesswarswiththePersiansatacostofcountlesslives,aswellasthelossofsmallOttomanfortressesintheWesttoChristiansinrevolt—toourhavingstrayedfromthepathoftheProphet,todisregardfor
thestricturesoftheGloriousKoran,tothetolerancetowardChristians,totheopensaleofwineandtotheplayingofmusicalinstrumentsindervishhouses.
ThepicklesellerwhopassionatelyinformedmeabouttheclericfromErzurumsaidthatthecounterfeitcoins—thenewducats,thefakeflorinsstampedwithlionsandtheOttomancoinswiththeirever-decreasingsilvercontent—thatfloodedthemarketsandbazaars,justliketheCircassians,Abkhazians,Mingarians,Bosnians,GeorgiansandArmenianswhofilledthestreets,weredraggingustowardanabsolutedegradationfromwhichitwouldbedifficulttoescape.Iwastoldthatscoundrelsandrebelsweregatheringincoffeehousesandproselytizinguntildawn;thatdestitutemenofdubiouscharacter,opium-addictedmadmenandfollowersoftheoutlawedKalenderidervishsect,claimingtobeonAllah’spath,wouldspendtheirnightsindervishhousesdancingtomusic,piercingthemselveswithskewersandengaginginallmannerofdepravity,beforebrutally**ingeachotherandanyboystheycouldfind.
Ididn’tknowwhetheritwasthemelodioussoundo**tethatcompelledmetofollow,orifinthemuddleofmymemoriesanddesires,Icouldsimplynolongerendurethevirulentpickleseller,andseizeduponthemusicasawayoutoftheconversation.Ido,however,knowthis:Whenyouloveacityandhaveexploreditfrequentlyonfoot,yourbody,nottomentionyoursoul,getstoknowthestreetssowellafteranumberofyearsthatinafitofmelancholy,perhapsstirredbyalightsnowfallingeversosorrowfully,you’lldiscoveryourlegscarryingyouoftheirownaccordtowardoneofyourfavoritepromontories.
ThiswashowIhappenedtoleavetheFarrier’sMarketandendedupwatchingthesnowasitfellintotheGoldenHornfromaspotbesidetheSüleymaniyeMosque:Snowhadalreadybeguntoaccumulateontherooftopsfacingnorthandonsectionsofthedomeexposedtothenortheasterlybreeze.
Anapproachingship,whosesailswerebeinglowered,greetedmewithaflutterofcanvas.ThecolorofitssailsmatchedtheleadenandfoggyhueofthesurfaceoftheGoldenHorn.Thecypressandplrees,therooftops,theheartacheofdusk,thesoundscomingfromtheneighborhoodbelow,thecallsofhawkersandthecriesofchildrenplayinginmosquecourtyardsmingledinmyheadandannouncedemphaticallythat,hereafter,Iwouldn’tbeabletoliveanywherebutintheircity.Ihadthesensationthatmybeloved’sface,whichhadescapedmeforyears,mightsuddenlyappeartome.
Ibegantowalkdownthehillandmeldedintothecrowds.Aftertheeveningprayerwascalled,Ifilledmystomachatalivershop.Intheempty
shop,Ilistenedcarefullytotheowner,whofondlywatchedmeeateachbiteasifhewerefeedingacat.Takinghiscueandfollowinghisdirections,Ifoundmyselfturningdownoneofthenarrowalleysbehindtheslavemarket—wellafterthestreetshadbecomedark—andlocatedthecoffeehouse.
Inside,itwascrowdedandwarm.Thestoryteller,thelikesofwhomIhadseeninTabrizandinPersiancitiesandwhowasknownthereaboutsasa“curtain-caller,”wasperchedonaraisedplatformbesidethewood-burningstove.Hehadunfoldedandhungbeforethecrowdapicture,thefigureofadogdrawnonroughpaperhastilybutwithacertainelegance.Hewasgivingvoicetothedog,andpointing,fromtimetotime,atthedrawing.
IAMADOGAsyoucandoubtlesstell,dearfriends,mycaninesaresolongandpointedtheybarelyfitintomymouth.Iknowthisgivesmeamenacingappearance,butitpleasesme.Noticingthesizeofmyteeth,abutcheroncehadthegalltosay,“MyGod,that’snodogatall,it’sawildboar!”
Ibithimsohardonthelegthatmycaninessankrightthroughhisfattyfleshtothehardnessofhisthighbone.Foradog,yousee,nothingisassatisfyingassinkinghisteethintohismiserableenemyinafitofinstinctualwrath.Whensuchanopportunitypresentsitself,thatis,whenmyvictim,whodeservestobebitten,stupidlyandunknowinglypassesby,myteethtwingeandacheinanticipation,myheadspinswithlongingandwithoutevenmeaningto,Iemitahair-raisinggrowl.
I’madog,andbecauseyouhumansarelessrationalbeaststhanI,you’retellingyourselves,“Dogsdon’ttalk.”Nevertheless,youseemtobelieveastoryinwhichcorpsesspeakandcharactersusewordstheycouldn’tpossiblyknow.
Dogsdospeak,butonlytothosewhoknowhowtolisten.
Onceuponatime,long,longago,inafarawayland,abrashclericfromaprovincialtownarrivedatoneofthelargestmosquesinacapitalcity;allright,let’scallittheBayazidMosque.It’dbeappropriatetowithholdhisname,solet’srefertohimas“HusretHoja.”ButwhyshouldIcoverupanythingmore:
Thismanwasoneboneheadedcleric.Hemadeupforthemodestyofhisintellectwiththepowerofhistongue,Godblessit.EachFriday,hesoanimatedhiscongregation,somovedthemtotearsthatsomewouldcryuntiltheyfaintedordriedupandwitheredaway.Don’tgetmewrong,unlikeotherclericswiththegiftofpreaching,hehimselfdidn’tweep.Onthecontrary,whileeveryoneelsecried,heintensifiedhisorationwithoutablinkasiftochastisethecongregation.Inallprobability,thegardeners,royalpages,halvamakers,riffraffandclericslikehimselfbecamehislackeysbecausetheyenjoyedthetonguelashing.Well,thismanwasnodogafterall,nosir,hewasahumanbeing—tobehumanistoerr—andbeforethoseenthralledcrowds,helosthimselfwhenhesawthatintimidatingthrongsofpeoplewasaspleasurableasbringingthemtotears.Whenheunderstoodthattherewasmuchmorebreadtobemadeinthisnewventure,hewentoverthetopandhadthenervetosaythefollowing:
“Thesolereasonforrisingprices,plagueandmilitarydefeatliesinourforgettingtheIslamofthetimeofourGloriousProphetandfallingswayto
falsehoods.WastheProphet’sbirthepicreadinmemoryofthedeadbackthen?Wasthefortieth-dayceremonyperformed,wheresweetslikehalvaandfrieddoughareofferedtohonorthedead?WhenMuhammadlived,wastheGloriousKoranrecitedmelodically,likeasong?Weretheprayerscalledhaughtilyandpompouslytoshowhowcloseone’sArabicwastoanArab’s?
Wastheresuchathingasrecitingthecalltoprayercoyly,withtheflourishofamanimitatingawoman?Today,peoplepleadbeforegravesites,beggingforamends.Theyhopefortheinterventionofthedeadontheirbehalf.Theyvisitthetombsofsaintsandworshipatgraveslikepagansbeforepiecesofstone.
Theytievotivepiecesofclotheverywhere,andmakepromisesofsacrificeinreturnforatonement.WeretheredervishsectarianswhospreadsuchbeliefsinMuhammad’stime?IbnArabi,theintellectualmentorofthesesectarians,becameasinnerbyswearingthattheinfidelPharaohhaddiedabeliever.
Thesedervishes,theMevlevis,theHalvetis,theKalenderisandthosewhosingtheKorantomusicalaccompanimentorjustifydancingwithchildrenandjuvenilesbysaying”wepraytogetheranyway,whynot?“areallkaffirs.Dervishlodgesoughttobedestroyed,theirfoundationsexcavatedtoadepthofsevenellsandthecollectedearthcastintothesea.Onlythenmightritualprayersbeperformedthereagain.”
IheardtellthatthisHusretHoja,takingmattersevenfurther,declaredwithspittleflyingfromhismouth,“Ah,mydevotedbelievers!Thedrinkingofcoffeeisanabsolutesin!OurGloriousProphetdidnotpartakeofcoffeebecauseheknewitdulledtheintellect,causedulcers,herniaandsterility;heunderstoodthatcoffeewasnothingbuttheDevil’sruse.Coffeehousesareplaceswherepleasure-seekersandwealthygadaboutssitknee-to-knee,involvingthemselvesinallsortsofvulgarbehavior;infact,evenbeforethedervishhousesareclosed,coffeehousesoughttobebanned.Dothepoorhaveenoughmoneytodrinkcoffee?Menfrequenttheseplaces,becomebesottedwithcoffeeandlosecontroloftheirmentalfacultiestothepointthattheyactuallylistentoandbelievewhatdogsandmongrelshavetosay.Butthosewhocursemeandourreligion,itistheywhoarethetruemongrels.”
Withyourpermission,I’dliketorespondtothislastcommentbytheesteemedcleric.Ofcourse,itiscommonknowledgethathajis,hojas,clerics,andpreachersdespiseusdogs.Inmyopinion,thewholematterconcernsourreveredProphetMuhammad,peaceandblessingsbeuponhim,whocutoffapieceofhisrobeuponwhichacatlaysleepingratherthanwakethebeast.Bypointingoutthisaffectionshowntothecat,whichhasincidentallybeendeniedtousdogs,andduetooureternalfeudwiththisfelinebeast,whicheventhestupidestofmenrecognizesasaningrate,peoplehavetriedto
intimatethattheProphethimselfdislikeddogs.They’reconvincedthatwe’lldefilethosewhohaveperformedritualablutions,andtheresultofthiserroneousandslanderousbeliefisthatwe’vebeenbarredfrommosquesforcenturiesandhavesufferedbeatingsintheircourtyardsfrombroomstick-wieldingcaretakers.
Allowmetoremindyouof“TheCave,”themostbeautifuloftheKoran’schapters.I’mremindingyounotbecauseIsuspecttheremaybethosewhoneverreadtheKoranamongusinthisgoodcoffeehouse,butbecauseIwanttorefreshyourmemories:Thischapterrecountsthestoryofthesevenyouthswhogrowtiredoflivingamongpagansandtakerefugeinacavewheretheyenteradeepsleep.Allahthensealstheirearsandcausesthemtodozeoffforexactlythreehundredandnineyears.Whentheyawake,theylearnjusthowmanyyearshavepassedonlyafteroneofthementersthesocietyofmenandtriestospendanoutdatedsilvercoin.Allofthemarestunnedtolearnwhathashappened.Thischaptersubtlydescribesman’sattachmenttoAllah,Hismiracles,thetransitorynatureoftimeandthepleasureofdeepsleep,andthoughit’snotmyplace,allowmetoremindyouoftheeighteenthverse,whichmakesmentionofadogrestingatthemouthofthiscavewherethesevenyouthshavefallenasleep.Obviously,anyonewouldbeproudtoappearintheKoran.Asadog,Itakeprideinthischapter,andthroughitIintendtobringtheErzurumis,whorefertotheirenemiesasdirtymongrels,totheirsenses.
Sothen,what’stheactualreasonforthisanimositytowarddogs?Whydoyoupersistinsayingthatdogsareimpure,andcleaningandpurifyingyourhomesfromtoptobottomifadoghappenstoenter?Whydoyoubelievethatthosewhotouchusspoiltheirablutions?Ifyourcaftanbrushesagainstourdampfur,whydoyouinsistonwashingthatcaftanseventimeslikeafrenziedwoman?Onlytinsmithscouldberesponsiblefortheslanderthatapotlickedbyadogmustbethrownawayorretinned.Orperhaps,yes,cats…Whenpeoplelefttheirvillagesforthesedentarylifeofthecity,shepherddogsremainedintheprovinces;that’swhenrumorsofthefilthinessofdogslikemebegantospread.YetbeforetheadventofIslam,twoofthetwelvemonthsoftheyearwere“monthsofthedog.”Now,however,adogisconsideredabadomen.Idon’twanttoburdenyouwithmyownproblems,mydearfriendswhohavecometohearastoryandponderitsmoral—tobehonest,myangerarisesoutoftheesteemedcleric’sattacksuponourcoffeehouses.
WhatwouldyouthinkifIsaidthatthisHusretofErzurumwasofdubiousbirth?Butthey’vealsosaidofme,“Whatkindofdogdoyouthinkyouare?
You’reattackingthevenerableclericbecauseyourmasterisapicture-hangingstorytellerwhotellstalesatacoffeehouseandyouwanttoprotecthim.Goon,scat!”Godforbid,I’mnotdenigratinganyone.ButI’magreatadmirerofourcoffeehouses.Youknow,IhavenoproblemwiththefactthatmyportraitwasdrawnonsuchcheappaperorthatI’mafour-leggedbeast,butIdoregretthatIcan’tsitdownlikeamanandhaveacupofcoffeewithyou.We’ddieforourcoffeeandourcoffeehouses—what’sthis?See,mymasterispouringcoffeeformefromasmallcoffeepot.Apicturecan’tdrinkcoffee,yousay?
Please!Seeforyourselves,thisdogishappilylappingaway.
Ah,yes,thathitthespot,it’swarmedmeup,sharpenedmysightandquickenedmythoughts.NowlistentowhatIhavetotellyou:BesidesboltsofChinesesilksandChinesepotteryadornedwithblueflowers,whatdidtheVianDogesendtoNurhayatSultan,theesteemeddaughterofourrespectedSultan?AsoftandcuddlyVianshe-dogwithacoatofsilkandsable.Iheardthatthisbitchissospoiledshehasaredsilkdressaswell.Oneofourfriendsactually**edher,that’showIknow,andshecan’tevenengageintheactwithoutherdress.InthatFrankishlandofhers,alldogswearoutfitslikethatanyway.I’veheardtellthatoverthereaso-calledelegantandwell-bredVianwomansawanakeddog—ormaybeshesawitsthing,I’mnotsure—anyway,shescreamed,“MydearGod,thedogisnaked!”andfainteddeadaway.
InthelandsoftheinfidelFranks,theso-calledEuropeans,everydoghasanowner.Thesepooranimalsareparadedonthestreetswithchainsaroundtheirnecks,they
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