I AM CALLED BLACK-2
I AM CALLED BLACK-2 (第2/3页)
denswhosetearsfalltothepage.
Thentherearethosetrulyaccursedletter-readers;pray,don’tyouturnouttobelikeoneofthem:Whenthemaidentakestheletterinherownhandstotouchitagain,desiringtolookatitwithoutunderstandingwhichwordswere
spokenwhere,thesebeastswillsaytoher,“Whatareyoutryingtodo?Youcan’tread,whatmoredoyouwanttolookat?”Someofthemwon’tevenreturntheletter,treatingithenceforthasifitbelongedtothem.Attimes,thetaskofaccostingthemandretrievingtheletterfallstome,Esther.That’sthekindofgoodwomanIam.IfEstherlikesyou,she’llcometoyouraidaswell.
I,SHEKUREOh,whywasIthereatthewindowjustwhenBlackrodebyonhiswhitesteed?WhydidIopentheshuttersintuitivelyatthatexactmomentandstareathimsolongfrombehindthesnowybranchesofthepomegranatetree?Ican’ttellyouforsure.I’dsentwordtoEstherbywayofHayriye.Iwas,ofcourse,wellawarethatBlackwouldtakethatroute.Meanwhile,I’dgoneupalotheroomwiththebuilt-inclosetandthewindowfacingthepomegranatetreetoinspectthesheetsinthechest.Onawhim,andatjusttherightmoment,Ipushedtheshuttersopenwithallmystrengthandsunlightfloodedtheroom:Standingatthewindow,Icameface-to-facewithBlack,who,likethesun,dazzledme.Oh,itwasquitelovely.
He’dgrownandmaturedand,havinglosthisawkwardyouthfullankiness,heturnedouttobeacomelyman.ListenShekure,myheartdidtellme,he’snotonlyhandsome,lookintohiseyes,hepossessestheheartofachild,sopure,soalone:Marryhim.I,however,senthimaletterwhereinI’dgivenhimquitetheoppositemessage.
Thoughhewastwelveyearsmyelder,whenIwastwelve,Iwasmorematurethanhe.Backthen,insteadofstandingstraightandtallbeforemeinafashionbefittingamanandannouncingthathewasgoingtodothisorthat,jumpfromthisspotorclimbontothatthing,he’djustburyhisfaceinsomebookorpicture,hidingasifeverythingembarrassedhim.Intime,healsofellinlovewithme.Hemadeapaintingdeclaringhislove.We’dbothmaturedbythen.
WhenIturnedtwelve,IsensedthatBlackcouldnolongerlookintomyeyes,asifhewereafraidI’ddiscoverhelovedme.“Handmethativory-handledknife,”he’dsay,forexample,lookingattheknifebutunabletolookatme.IfIaskedhim,forinstance,“Isthecherrysherbettoyourliking?”hecouldn’tsimplyindicatesowithadelicatesmileornod,aswedowhenourmouthsarefull,yousee.Instead,he’dscream“Yes”atthetopofhislungs,asiftryingtocommunicatewithadeafman.Hefearedlookingmeintheface.Iwasamaidenofstrikingbeautythen.Anymanwhocaughtsightofmeevenonce,fromafar,orfrombetweenpartedcurtainsoryawningdoors,oreventhroughthelayersofmymodestheadcoverings,immediatelybecameenamoredofme.
I’mnotbeingabraggart,I’mexplainingthissoyou’llunderstandmystoryandbebetterabletoshareinmygrief.
Inthewell-knowntaleofHüsrevandShirin,there’samomentthatBlackandIhaddiscussedatlength.Hüsrev’sfriend,Shapur,intendstomakeHüsrevandShirinfallinlove.OnedayShirinembarksonacountrysideoutingwith
herladiesofthecourt,whensheseesapictureofHüsrevthatShapurhassecretlyhungfromthebranchofoneofthetreesbeneathwhichtheoutingpartyhasstoppedtorest.BeholdingthispictureofthehandsomeHüsrevinthatbeautifulgarden,Shirinisstrickenbylove.Manypaintingsdepictthismoment—or“scene”astheminiaturistswouldhaveit—consistingofShirin’slookofadorationandbewildermentasshegazesupontheimageofHüsrev.
WhileBlackwasworkingwithmyfather,he’dseenthispicturemanytimesandhadtwicemadeexactcopiesbyeyeingtheoriginalashepainted.Afterfallinginlovewithme,hemadeacopyforhimself.ButthistimeinplaceofHüsrevandShirin,heportrayedhimselfandme,BlackandShekure.Ifitweren’tforthecaptionsbeneaththefigures,onlyIwould’veknownwhothemanandmaideninthepicturewere,becausesometimeswhenwewerejokingaround,he’ddepictusinthesamemannerandcolor:Iallinblue,heallinred.Andifthisweren’tindicationenough,he’dalsowrittenournamesbeneaththefigures.He’dleftthepaintingwhereIwouldfinditandrunoff.
Hewatchedmetoseewhatmyreactiontohiscompositionwouldbe.
IwaswellawarethatIwouldn’tbeabletolovehimlikeaShirin,soIfeignedignorance.Ontheeveningofthatsummer’sdaywhenBlackgavemehispainting,duringwhichwe’dtriedtocoolourselveswithsour-cherrysherbetsmadewithicesaidtohavebeenbroughtallthewayfromsnow-cappedMountUlu,Itoldmyfatherthathe’dmadeadeclarationoflove.Atthattime,Blackhadjustgraduatedfromthereligiousschool.Hetaughtinremoteneighborhoodsand,moreoutofmyfather’sinsistencethanhisowndesire,BlackwasattemptingtoobtainthepatronageofthepowerfulandesteemedNaimPasha.Butaccordingtomyfather,Blackdidn’tyethavehiswitsabouthim.Myfather,who’dtakengreatpainstowinBlackaplaceinNaimPasha’scircle,atleastasaclerktobegin,complainedthathewasn’tdoingmuchtofurtherhisowncause;inotherwords,Blackwasbeinganignoramus.AndthatverynightinreferencetoBlackandme,myfatherdeclared,“Ithinkhe’ssethissightsveryhigh,thisimpoverishednephew,”andwithoutregardformymother’spresence,headded,“he’ssmarterthanwe’dsupposed.”
Irememberwithmiserywhatmyfatherdidinthefollowingdays,howIkeptmydistancefromBlackandhowheceasedtovisitourhouse,butIwon’texplainallofthisforfearthatyou’lldislikemyfatherandme.Isweartoyou,wehadnootherchoice.Youknowhowinsuchsituationsreasonablepeopleimmediatelysensethatlovewithouthopeissimplyhopeless,andunderstandingthelimitsoftheillogicalrealmoftheheart,makeaquickend
ofitbypolitelydeclaring,“Theydidn’tfindussuitablymatched.That’sjustthewayitis.”But,I’llhaveyouknowthatmymothersaidseveraltimes,“Atleastdon’tbreaktheboy’sheart.”Black,whommymotherreferredtoasa“boy,”wastwenty-four,andIwashalfhisage.BecausemyfatherconsideredBlack’sdeclarationofloveanactofinsolence,hewouldn’thumormymother’swishes.
Thoughwehadn’tforgottenhimaltogetherbythetimewereceivednewsthathe’dleftIstanbul,we’dlethimslipcompletelyoutofouraffections.
Becausewehadn’treceivednewsabouthimfromanycityforyears,Ideemeditappropriatetosavethepicturehe’dmadeandshownme,asatokenofourchildhoodmemoriesandfriendship.Topreventmyfather,andlatermysoldier-husband,fromdiscoveringthepictureandgettingupsetorjealous,Iexpertlyconcealedthenames“Shekure”and“Black”beneaththefiguresbymakingitappearasifsomeonehaddribbledmyfather’sHasanPashainkontothem,inanaccidentlatertobedisguisedasflowers.SinceI’vereturnedthatpicturetohimtoday,maybethoseamongyouinclinedtotakeadimviewofhowIrevealedmyselftohimatthewindowwillfeelashamedandreconsideryourprejudicessomewhat.
Havingexposedmyfacetohim,Iremainedforawhilethereatthewindow,showeredinthecrimsonhueoftheeveningsun,andgazedinaweatthegardenbathedinreddish-orangelight,untilIfeltthechilloftheeveningair.
Therewasnobreeze.Ididn’tcarewhatsomeonepassinginthestreetwould’vesaiduponseeingmeattheopenwindow.OneofZiverPasha’sdaughters,Mesrure,whoalwayslaughedandenjoyedherselfsayingthemostsurprisingthingsatthemostinopportimeswhenwewentmerrilyandplayfullytothepublicbathseachweek,oncetoldmethatapersonneverknowsexactlywhatsheherselfisthinking.ThisiswhatIknow:SometimesI’llsaysomethingandrealizeuponutteringitthatitisofmyownthinking;butnosoonerdoIarriveatthatrealizationthanI’mconvincedtheveryoppositeistrue.
IwassorrywhenpoorElegantEffendi,oneoftheminiaturistsmyfatherofteninvitedtothehouse—andIwon’tpretendIhaven’tspiedoneachofthem—wentmissing,muchlikemyunfortunatehusband.“Elegant”wastheugliestamongthemandthemostimpoverishedofspirit.
Iclosedtheshutters,lefttheroomandwentdowntothekitchen.
“Mother,Shevketdidn’tlistentoyou,”Orhansaid.“WhileBlackwastakinghishorseoutofthestable,Shevketleftthekitchenandspiedonhimfromthepeephole.”
“Whatofit!”Shevketsaid,wavinghishandintheair.“Motherspiedonhimfromtheholeinthecloset.”
“Hayriye,”Isaid.“Frysomebreadinalittlebutterandserveittothemwithmarzipanandsugar.”
OrhanjumpedupanddownwithjoythoughShevketwassilent.ButasIwalkedbackupstairs,theybothcaughtuptome,screaming,pushingandshovingbymeexcitedly.“Beslow,slowdown,”Isaidwithalaugh.“Yourascals.”Ipattedthemontheirdelicatebacks.
Howwonderfulitistobehomewithchildrenaseveningapproaches!Myfatherhadquietlygivenhimselfovertoabook.
“Yourguesthasdeparted,”Isaid.“Ihopehedidn’ttroubleyoumuch?”
“Onthecontrary,”hesaid.“Heentertainedme.He’sasrespectfulaseverofhisEnishte.”
“Good.”
“Butnowhe’salsomeasuredandcalculating.”
He’dsaidthatlesstoobservemyreactionthantoclosethesubjectinamannerthatmadelightofBlack.Onanyotheroccasion,Iwould’veansweredhimwithasharptongue,asIamwonttodo.Thistime,though,IjustthoughtofBlackmakinggroundonhiswhitehorse,andIshuddered.
I’mnotsurehowithappened,butlaterintheroomwiththecloset,OrhanandIfoundourselveshuggingeachother.Shevketjoinedus;therewasabriefskirmishbetweenthem.Astheytussledweallrolledoverontothefloor.Ikissedthemonthebacksoftheirnecksandtheirhair,Ipressedthemtomybosomandfelttheirweightonmybreasts.
“Ahhh,”Isaid.“Yourhairstinks.I’mgoingtosendyoutothebathstomorrowwithHayriye.”
“Idon’twanttogotothebathswithHayriyeanymore,”Shevketsaid.
“Why?Areyoutoogrown-up?”Isaid.
“Mother,whydidyouwearyourfinepurpleblouse?”Shevketsaid.
Iwentintotheotherroomandremovedmypurpleblouse.IpulledonthefadedgreenhatIusuallywear.AsIwaschanging,Ifeltcoldandshivered,butIcouldsensethatmyskinwasaflame,mybodyvibrantandalive.I’drubbedabitofrougeontomycheeks,whichprobablysmudgedwhileIwasrollingaroundwiththechildren,butIeveneditoutbylickingmypalmandrubbingmycheeks.Areyouawarethatmyrelatives,thewomenwhomImeet
atthebathsandeveryonewhoseesme,swearthatIlookmorelikeasixteen-year-oldmaidenthanatwenty-four-year-oldmotheroftwopastherprime?
Believethem,trulybelievethem,orIshan’ttellyouanymore.
Don’tbesurprisedthatI’mtalkingtoyou.ForyearsI’vecombedthroughthepicturesinmyfather’sbookslookingforimagesofwomenandgreatbeauties.Theydoexist,iffewandfarbetween,andalwayslookshy,embarrassed,gazingonlyatoneanother,asifapologetically.Neverdotheyraisetheirheads,standstraightandfacethepeopleoftheworldassoldiersandsultanswould.Onlyincheap,hastilyillustratedbooksbycarelessartistsaretheeyesofsomewomentrainednotonthegroundoronsomethingintheillustration—oh,Idon’tknow,let’ssayaloveroragoblet—butdirectlyatthereader.I’velongwonderedaboutthatreader.
IshudderindelightwhenIthinkoftwo-hundred-year-oldbooks,datingbacktothetimeofTamerlane,volumesforwhichacquisitivegiaoursgleefullyrelinquishgoldpiecesandwhichtheycarryallthewaybacktotheirowncountries:Perhapsonedaysomeonefromadistantlandwilllistentothisstoryofmine.Isn’tthiswhatliesbehindthedesiretobeinscribedinthepagesofabook?Isn’titjustforthesakeofthisdelightthatsultansandviziersprofferbagsofgoldtohavetheirhistorieswritten?WhenIfeelthisdelight,justlikethosebeautifulwomenwithoneeyeonthelifewithinthebookandoneeyeonthelifeoutside,I,too,longtospeakwithyouwhoareobservingmefromwhoknowswhichdistanttimeandplace.I’manattractiveandintelligentwoman,anditpleasesmethatI’mbeingwatched.AndifIhappentotellalieortwofromtimetotime,it’ssoyoudon’tcometoanyfalseconclusionsaboutme.
Maybeyou’venoticedthatmyfatheradoresme.Hehadthreesonsbeforeme,butGodtookthemonebyoneandleftme,hisdaughter.Myfatherdotesonme,thoughImarriedamannotofhischoosing.IwenttoaspahicavalrysoldierwhomI’dnoticedandfancied.Ifitwerelefttomyfather,myhusbandwouldnotonlybethegreatestofscholars,he’dalsohaveanappreciationforpaintingandart,bepossessedofpowerandauthority,andbeasrichasKarun,thewealthiestofmenintheKoran.Theinklingofsuchamancouldn’tevenbefoundinthepagesofmyfather’sbooks,andsoIwould’vebeenforcedtopineawayathomeforever.
Myhusband’shandsomenesswaslegendary,andIgavehimthenodthroughintermediates.HefoundtheopportunitytoappearbeforemeasIwasreturningfromthepublicbaths.Hiseyeswereasbrilliantasfire,andIimmediatelyfellinlove.Hewasadark-haired,fair-skinned,green-eyedman
withstrongarms;butatheart,hewasinnocentandquietlikeasleepychild.
Nevertheless,itseemed,tomeatleast,thathealsohadthetangofbloodabouthim,perhapsbecauseheexpendedallhisstrengthslayingmeninbattleandamassingbooty,eventhoughathomehewasasgentleandquietasalady.
Thisman—whommyfatherlookeduponasapennilesssoldier,andhence,disapprovedof—waslaterallowedtomarrymebecauseIthreatenedtokillmyselfotherwise.Andaftertheygavehimamilitaryfiefworthtenthousandsilvercoins,arewardforhisheroisminbattleafterbattlewhereinheperformedthegreatestactsofbravery,truly,everyoneenviedus.
FouryearsagowhenhefailedtoreturnwiththerestofthearmyfromwarringagainsttheSafavidsIwasn’tworriedatfirst.Forthemoreexperiencehehadonthebattlefield,themoreadeptandcleverhebecameincreatingopportunitiesforhimself,inbringinghomegreaterspoils,inwinninglargerfiefs,andinenlistingmoresoldiersofhisown.Therewerewitnesseswhosaidhefledtothemountainswithhisownmenafterhebecameseparatedfromadivisionofthearmy.Inthebeginning,Isuspectedaschemeandhopedhe’dreturn,butaftertwoyears,Islowlygrewaccustomedtohisabsence;andwhenIrealizedhowmanylonelywomenlikemewithmissingsoldier-husbandstherewereinIstanbul,Iresignedmyselftomyfate.
Atnight,inourbeds,we’dhugourchildrenandmopeandcry.Toquiettheirtears,I’dtellthemhopefullies;forexample,thatso-and-sohadprooftheirfatherwouldreturnbeforespring.Afterward,whenmyliewouldcirculate,changingandspreadinguntilitfounditswaybacktome,I’dbethefirsttobelievethegoodnews.
Whenthemainsupportofthehouseholdvanished,wefelluponhardtimes.WewerelivinginarentedhouseinCharsh?kap?withmyhusband’sgentlemanlyAbkhazianfather,who’dneverlivedaneasylife,andhisbrother,whohadgreeneyesaswell.Myfather-in-law,wholefthismirror-makingbusinessafterhisoldestsonmadehisfortunesoldiering,returnedtotakeuphistradeatalateage.Hasan,myhusband’sbachelorbrother,workedincustoms,andasheprosperedhemadeplanstoassumetheroleof“manofthehouse.”Onewinter,fearingtheywouldn’tbeabletopayrent,theyhastilytooktheslavewhosawtothehouseholdchorestotheslavemarketandsoldher,afterwhichtheywantedmetodothekitchenwork,washtheclothesandevengoouttothebazaarstodotheshoppinginherstead.Ididn’tprotestbysaying,“AmIthetypeofwomantotakeonsuchdrudgery?”Iswallowedmyprideandwenttowork.Butwhenthatbrother-in-lawofmineHasan,now
withouthisslavegirltotakeintohisroomatnight,beganforcingmydoor,Ididn’tknowwhattodo.
Ofcourse,Icould’veimmediatelycomebackheretothehomeofmyfather,butaccordingtothekadijudgemyhusbandwaslegallyalive,andwereItoangermyin-laws,theymightnotstopatforcingmychildrenandmebacktomyhusband’shome,buthumiliateusfurtherbyhavingmeandmyfather,whohad“detained”me,punished.Totellthetruth,Icould’velovedHasan,whomIfoundtobemorehumaneandreasonablethanmyhusband,
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