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It was on a clear and crisp day in Autumn of 1921 when the forces that were to decide my future were set into motion. Unaware of what lay ahead, I was walking towards the y a l i , close to the shores of the Bosphorus in Roumeli Hisar, which was my home. I looked up, as was my custom, at the ancient Towers built by
Fatih Sultan Mehmet the conqueror of Istanbul, that dominate the little village a suburb of Istanbul. I had just stepped inside the yali when my mother greeted me joyously and said,
"Take off your tcharshaf and come$ down to my room. I want to talk with y o u . "
It was not very often that my mother was in a gay mood. Intrigued, I ran to my room wondering what she had to tell me. I took off my tcharshaf, a costume worn by all lurkish women when stepping out of their houses, removed the black veil that usually covered my face in the streets, ran a comb through my hair and skipped lightly downstairs to join my mother.
"I have important news for you, 11 my mother greeted me. l,,Jit
down and listen to me. My good friend Sidika hanoum came to visit me today and do you know what she told me?"
"I can't imagine," I replied more intrigued than ever. *
"°idika hanoum told me that her nephew Nejat Nazmi bey, who is in Switzerland, attached to the Embassy there, wrote his family that he wanted to ask for your hand. She is expecting an answer from
H
m e .
I did no know Nejat Nazmi although his family and mine had
been friends for many years. I was greatly astonished to hear that the young man wanted to marry me as I had already been married and
divorced while he was a desirable bachelor. Besides, we were about the same age. Both these facts were considered drawbacks for a woman in the old Turkey. I told my mother these thoughts but she
did not agree with me. Nejat ^azmi bey, she told me, had received a good education, he belonged to an enlightened family. Surely, he would not be bound by these old-fashioned ideas. My mother added that Nejat Nazmi was in the diplomatic service and there was a good
chance that he might be appointed amta ssador in the future. If I married him, I would travel as much as I wanted and see the world.
From my childhood I had yearned to travel and with these baits dangled tantalizingly before my eyes, I did not hesitate for long and told my mother that I would accept Nazmi Bey's offer. My mother seemed extremely happy and leaving her to her joy, I went up to m y room to ponder over these matters that affected me vitally.
No, I did not regret my decision. As I intended to remarry one day, was it not my good fortune that a young man who belonged to a family I loved and respected, should ask for my hand?
By then, night was falling and casting trembling shadows over the undulating waters of the Bosphorus. Looking out of the x^indow across the darkening waters of the Straits, it seemed to me
that I could almost touch the Asiatic shore on the opposite side, for this is the narrowest point that separates the continents of Europe and Asia. The setting sun formed a framework of brillant colors for the purpke hills and the beauty all about me drew me out of my room. I stepped out on the balcony to smell the air filled with the scent of rambling roses that twined about the iron grills. The rose
bush was as old as I was, ws were like twins. I leaned and picked a few fragrant blossoms and inhaled them deeply as if I wanted their scent to penetrate my very soul. The roses brought back memories of m y childhood and my life up to my twenty-seventh birthday.
I must confess that as a child I was not an ideal daughter for my mother. There were two boys and two girls in the family and I was the second of four children. When I was four years old, I was
taken to the village school with elaborate ceremonies, as was then the custom. Attired in an old-rose velvet dress, with a velvet satchel embroidred with gold threads, slung over one arm and in which I
carried my school books, I was initated into the mysteries of learning. t The very next day, I went to work by tearing to bits my school books. I did not like the school, there was no order, the. children were dirty and the teacher used to beat us with a bamboo stick when we were
naughty. My family thought, at first, that I had torn the books through carelessness, then they decided it was due to pure mischief and finally concluded that I did not like to go to school. The teacher beat me regularly, at home my mother scolded me but I kept up my work of destruction. Finally they decided to take me out of the school and
hire the teacher to struggle with me at home. But this did not please
me either and I kept tearing up the books and note-books regularly. Two years went by in this fashion and my mother was really worried and
sad. A,iy father said that I was still too young to know better and would
change as I grew older. But my mother insisted that I did not want to be educated. .Vhat could she do with me? Finally it dawned upon them to change the teacher. This time my family hired an excellent university professor who was to come four times a week to teach me at home. The first day he arrived, he told me,
-"Listen, my child, I am not used to teaching little girls like you but your mother insisted so much that I could not refuse her. I have ac opted the task but on one condition. I am counting on you. Will you promise to study your lessons and not shame me?"
I was so proud to hear these words and to know that the teacher was relying upon me^ that my heart beat fast as I answered earnestly,
"i promise, teacher."
The promise I gave my teacher I kept for twelve years and thanks to his efforts I went to he best school for girls and gra- duated with honors. uy father and mother had no more complaints regarding my studies.
My mother, though, incessantly complained because I was aliirays deep in mischief, like the time I rode my brother's pony in the garden and fell off wounding my head. Girls simply did not behave in this fashion. Most of them did not, it is true, but I had a surplus of energy that boiled over and found an outlet in harmless pranks and adventures. As 1 grew older, my mother and I disagreed as to the
clothes I should wear. She wanted her children to dress well and even ordered some of our clothes from Paris. Even though I was young, I had decided opinions as to what suited me best. Very often the dresses my mother had ordered for me and for which she had paid well, did not please me in the least. My fondness for clothes (a^pT led me to take u^> sewing in earnest and I thought that the clothes I made myself suited me better than the expensive ones she had bought for me. We clashed
endlessly. My mother was an excellent housekeeper and mother but extremely authoritarian and she xiianted me to accept her decisions
without a murmur. This I could not do. She did not approve of the dresses I made and used to say,
"It is a good idea for a young girl to know everything. You are not going to be a seamstress, why waste time which would be better spent if you devoted it to your lessons."
jhen I reached my sixteenth birthday, my father, who was a high government official, died suddenly. I had loved him dearly and his death was a great shock. A year after this tragedy, they married me off to a young man I hardly knew. His family and mine had been
close for many years but this love did not in the least help me to find happiness.
As my h u s b a n d ’s family and mine knew each other well, they had reached an agreement quickly without going through the long-
drawn out procedure common at the time. It was then the custom in Turkey that any girl reaching marriageable age could be "looked over" by mothers of eligible young men, even though they might be total
strangers. These women would send word that they wanted to visit on a certain day and when they arrived, they itfere received by the mother of the girl in the parlor. Coffee was served and after the cups stood empty, the young girl made her appearance, said very little and with drew after staying a few minutes. If one of the visitors returned a few days later, this indicated that she was interested in the prospect. At the third visit, the mother of the young man asked the girl's hand in marriage for her son and presented his photograph. If thr young girl liked his looks and the investigations regarding him were satisfactory, the photograph was kept. If not, the family returned the picture and the whole procedure had to start all over again.
It was lucky for me that I did not have to go through this trying ordeal. My husband later confessed that he used to watch for me whenever I went to visit his family and had seen me many times before our marriage. But most couples were not as lucky and it was quite common for a young man and a young woman to see each other for the first time the day of their marriage.
My future husband sent me a diamond ring and other presents and in this fashion we were engaged. Immediately, my family began the
elaborate preparations that attended an old-fashioned wedding. This consisted of the ni k a h , or religious ceremony, which was followed by the marriage festivities with hundreds of guests invited, the number depending upon the family's wealth. Both ceremonies were to take place in our house and my mother and our numerous relatives were kept busy for days.
The nikah was simple indeed. Only the immediate families were present. My future husband did not attend, as was the custom, but sent
two witnesses who would act for him. Two of our men relatives were my witnesses. The hodja, who was to perform the ceremony, arrived and was received with much honor by the men of the household. The women did not appear at all during the n i k a h . My mother led me to a room, left the door ajar, and told me to wait, giving me instructions as to what I was to do. A little later, the hodja and my two witnesses came to the door and the hodja asked if I wanted to marry the young man to whom I was engaged. I did not answer the first time, that too was unwritten law, for if I had, I would have appeared too bold and eager to be married. Finally, when the hodja asked me for the third time, I said "yes" faintly. The answer was written in a book. Then our two families decided on the sum of money my husband would pay me in case he later divorced me. This too was registered.
This settlement did not in the least affect the wife's own money and property if she had any . A woman reaching her twentieth birthday had absolute control over them even under the Ottoman Empire. When a woman married, she still retained control of her wealth and could spend her money, sell or buy property without having to consult her husband.
'fhe Turkish women were restricted in many ways but they paradoxically enjoyed complete economic freedom.
Prayers were said, sherbets drunk and the men departed. Although we were really married, for the nikah being the religious ceremony was binding, my husband did not appear at all at the nikah and I did not see him until the ceremony which was to follow. This could take place imme
diately after the nikah or some months later, depending upon the under standing reached by the two families.
The day of the marriage, from early morning hundreds of women guests began arriving and were received by my mother and other women relatives. My grandmother helped me into a long white dress and a white veil was draped around my face. My mother led me to the entrance hall wnore I waited. The hall, the stairs and the rooms were full of women guests with their faces covered, waiting impatiently for the bridegroom
to appear, I felt faint with excitement and the hubub that rose all about
me. t 1 '-St he arrived, wearing a redingote, white gloves and a red fez
which he kept on his head throughout his stay. One of the elderly rela tives moved to my side and introduced us. I glanced at him shyly. He was tall, blonde and slim and bore himself with dignity. I noticed,
lough, hat hi3 hands were trembling. The XAfomen guests whispered among
Ihemselves and carefully hid their faces with the pelerin of their tcarshafs as a man was among them. After he had saluted me, my husband gave me his arm and we slowly walked upstairs to a room specially
-prepared for us. ,ve were alone at last. My husband lifting my white veil looked at my face at close range, f o r the first time. Then he gave
me a diamond necklace. This is called the "looking at the face" present which every man must give when he first looks at his wife's face, .'e
stayed in the room for a few minutes. A knock at the door terminated this brief exchange of glances, ^e saluted me and left the room. On the way downstairs, as he frayed a passage through the dense crowd of guests, he scattered handfuls of brand new silver and gold coins and the guests fell all over themselves to pick them up. These were considered good luck. The last handful flung at random, he reached the door and left the house, unable to attend the festivities and gala wedding dinner which was served to the women guests.
I was seventeen and my husband twenty-three when we were married. I soon found out, though, that he and 1 clashed over most
subjects. He had old-fashioned ideas, revered tradition while I tugged at all the restrictions and wanted to be free and forge ahead. After the wedding, we had to visit our relatives, as was the custom. It lias my wish that we should go together but he, a slave to tradition, refused and we went separately like strangers and met at each house
that we had to visit. ven at night, w en we went out in the street,
he insisted that I cover my face with the black veil. My husband took every opportunity to remind me that he had every right over me. This seemed to give him a great deal of pleasure.
On the other hand I, who was so careful not to allow the smallest act to cloud the horizon of our wedded life, only laughed at the conservatism of my husband. As the years went by, my husband
became more like a spoiled child whose every whim had to be humored. He was not even aware of my reactions, my aims and the sacrifices I was making.
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-Pour years went by in this fashion. One day, peeved at an elderly relative who had adviced him to give me more freedom, my husband sent him a letter asking him to tell me that he was going to divorce me. This act of childish revenge, whose victim I was, against a well-meaning relative, showed me plainly the kind of man I had
married. The .family tried to bring us together but I refused to listen to them, saying,
"1 longer want to be a toy that can be cast aside or
broken by a thoughtless child."
Several months later, I heard that the daughter of my aunt oy marriage had given birth to a child. It was my duty to congratulate the family, especially since we had known and loved her long before I had married her nephew, her husband received me with great courtesy. iie asked me to sit near him, told me how much he had respected my dear father and that he loved me like his own daughter. Then he added,
"Your husband is in the next room. He wants to ask you to forgive him. I beg you to grant leave to see you."
before I could answer, the door of the parlor was flung open. My husband rushed into the room and kneeling before me, he hugged my knees, saying,
"Flease forgive me, beloved. I cannot live without you. I will do anything you want if only you will marry me again."
ilio a i m ■ and uncle joined in his plea and I was overwhelmed,
m e y did not give me time to think. A wire was sent to the hodja who n d first married us, asking him to come to the house immediately. The next day when the hodja arrived, we were married for the second time.
It could not last. As the years went by, my husband reverted to his old tactics. lxe pretended he had a serious illness and in every way he could, he made life miserable for me. I became a nervous wreck.
I could not sleep, I could not eat and I was wasting away. The kind of life I led was slowly killing me. But no, I was not going to allow him to destroy me. I had learned a bitter lesson when, as a young wife, my husband had discarded me like the peeved child that he was. This time
I would divorce him. My mind was made up. -Pour years after our second marriage, I fled to my mother's house. Despite his insistanee that he would not grant me a divorce, I bought my freedom at last by relin- pi quishing my material and moral rights.
xxxxx
What was the use of reviewing my pas life like a play, scene
after bitter scene when 1 had finally decided to give marriage a second trial? Would it not be better to bury those dreadful years in the dust of the ages? ^ife was offering me a second chance. I should turn my eyes towards the future.
Following my decision to marry ^ejat Nazmi, I started to get ready for the trip to Paris. Nazmi bey began to send me letters and postcards from Switzerland. They read as if they had been written by a formal friend rather than the suitor I assumed him to be. Nevertheless, he urged me to hurry my preparations and start for Paris where, he said, he planned to join me. As Nejat Nazmi had a sister, Nermine, who had married a Frenchman many years ago and had settled in Paris, my mother
and his aunt had decided that we were to be married in that city. At last, after long preparations and the sewing of numerous dresses, I left Istanbul in 1922 on my way to Paris. This was not my first trip to that lovely city and I knew my way about.
My first visit was to Nermine in Passy where she had a lovely apartment. N ermine received me joyfully and we talked for a long time. She told me that she kept open house every Sunday and urged me to come the following week to meet her husband and their many friends.
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-I was rather surprised that she did not even mention my impending marriage to her brother. Consequently, I said nothing. That night when I returned to the hotel, I found a letter from Switzerland in which Nejat informed me that he had applied to the government at
Ankara for a leave of absence and as soon as this was granted, he would join me in Paris.
The future looked bright and I was feeling happy and carefree for the first time in many years. Nermine's husband was prominent in iarisian circles and I found his friends extremely interesting, deing Turkish, I was a novelty and they paid a great deal of attention to me. We visited museums, churches, went to the theater and the
weeks flew by as I was having a very good time. Paris, to me, was an ocean of culture and artistic education. Skirting the edges, as I nad done during my previous visit, I had not appreciated the city thoroughly; but now as I plunged deep into Parisian life, 1 was a little afraid of being drowned in this ocean. There is so much to see, so much to learn in Paris. To live even a short time in this cultural atmosphere is an education in itself.
I had been in Paris for five months and was having a wonderful time. There was one thing, though, that worried me. Nejat N azmi wrote taat ne had not yet been able to obtain his leave and his arrival was postponed indefinitely. The money I had in the bank was dwindling
rapidly and gradually fear began to prod me and give me no peace. What was the meaning of thi3 delay? Why shouldn't the Turkish Government grant him the leave he wanted?
The answer to these questions were to come from an unexpected quaier. 1 had been invited to tea by one of Nermine's friends. During
the conversation, the friend, who did not know that I was practically engaged to Nejat, told me casually that he was not going to come to Paris, lie had fallen in love with a girl in Switzerland. The news staggered me. All the hopes to achieve a new life that I had been building during the past year, were crushed in an instant and I was left without hope and without money in a strange city. To this day I do not know how I managed to conceal my feelings or how I left the woman's house, here was the bitter answer to the questions that had been puzzling me for long. To add to the irony of fate, 1 found a
letter from Nejat when I reached the hotel. 11 e was writing that he
had not been able to obtain leave from Ankara and his hopes of coming to Paris were at an end.
What was I going to do now? Nhat could I do? I was not
equipped to work. All 1 knew was a little sewing. Return home?
ImpossibleJ I could not b ear to live under my mother's dictum any longer. ’ven if I wanted to return, I did not have enough money in
the bank for the be turn trip. 1 was tempted to tell ■‘•''ermine of my
difficulties. But no, neither Nermine nor her friends would know the anguish that I was feeling. 1 spent another night tossing in bed,
unable to sleep. rJkwards morning, it was as if a voice was shispering
in my ear and I found myself saying out loud,
"I will go to Berlin. No one knows me there. I will either find work and save myself or else I will accept death and put an end to my life. I hate women who cling to husbands and families in order to secure a living out of them. I will fashion my own life or perish in the attempt."
This decision gave me sudden strngth. I jumped out of bed and dressing in a hurry, I rushed to the bank where I withdrew my last francs, b o n the bank to the German Consulate did not take long.
I obtained a German visa and had just enough money to buy a railroad ticket to Berlin. Then I told my friends that I was going to Berlin for a few days and from there would return to Istanbul.
'3
the train pulled out and I waved at the friends who hadcome to see me off, I felt very alone and frightened for the first time since I had made my momentous decision to leave Paris and the
people I knew. I did not have enough money to eat dinner that night and sat alone in my compartment deep in thought. What was I going to do in Berlin where 1 did not know a single person? How was I going to earn my living? 1 was born under the restricted era of the Ottoman Empire a
and knew nothing about work and money matters. Suddenly I was facing difficulties which would seem insurmountable even to a woman used to facing life which I was not. That I had found the courage to embark
/
on this venture was nothing but the reaction of an idealist against the restriction that bound her. When I had lived home and used to criticize the existing order of life, my mother used to call me a revolutionary. The revolution was not in our home but had exploded in my soul. Would a new person be born as a result with her thoughts and desires changed or else....
Following the First World War, Germany was in the clutches of a devastating inflation. Between 1922 and 1923, the German mark had fallen s o ;low that it had no value whatsoever. An American visiting
Berlin at that time, changed a fex-r dollars into marks, hopped into a
car and toured the city throwing marks out of the window as he went along. Another tourist had lined the walls of his hotel room with paper money of the highest denomination. It was to this Germany tta t I was
coming seeking work where al foreigners were looked upon with suspicion
and dislike. When the train arrived at the Frederiker station of Berlin and I got down, I had exactly seven French francs in my pocket, -^ut I was determined to carry on the struggle and, like a soldier who wants
-to save his country’s flag with honor, I threw myself in-to the struggle.
In the end I emerged victorious. The life of work I finally carved out for myself in Berlin, gave me back my physical and moral freedom.
Mrs. RebiaT,Basokcu
Hotel • Strafford
Room 1205
11 Bast 32nd Street
New York
