CHILDHOOD MEMORIES AND EXPERIENCES

     THINGS THAT MY FATHER FAILED TO PRIVIDE WERE NOTHING COMPARE WITH WHAT HE GAVE ME

“Experience is not what happens to a man, it is what a man does with what happens to him.” Aldous Huxley.

At 5 years old, I was taken away from my crowded family living in a small Circassian village in Eastern Anatolia, for education purposes by my uncle, to a city in Western Anatolia. My uncle was a judge and he never married, nor had children of his own. He had no idea as to how to raise a boy to become a better man. So, that’s how I lost my father’s influence on me and his guidance in my life.

I often cried, missing my parents, my family, my sibling, playmates and felt homesick. My uncle, instead of counselling me, one day shouted at me, “why do you keep crying, you want to go back to village to become a shepherd or do you want to go to school to become somebody?” I do not mean to be disrespectful to my judge uncle, he always emphasized the importance of education and studying hard, but he was never a father to me.

Puberty was the toughest time for me. Hormonal rage induced impulsive behaviors, my teenage face covered with pimples often caused accusatory comments from my uncle and other elderly. No teaching, no guidance as to why these strange things were happening to me or what to do about them. In addition, I faced frequent bullying situation, fistfights, pornographic pictures sharing, stories of zoophilic sexual encounters and of of child abuse among my schoolchildren. I was confused, clueless and did not know what to do. My uncle often would get quiet, and sometimes even angry when I asked a question about this stuff.

My sexual education was also left to occur in this abnormal and confusing environment.

Finally, in middle school I was allowed by my uncle to go to village to visit my family and my father during summer recession. I immediately felt remarkably close to my father. He was exceedingly kind, soft spoken and a likeable person by everybody in the village. He never spoke ill of anyone. I never saw him get angry. Local people always came to him for advice and conflict resolution instead of going to the government agencies. Even a folk song was created depicting him as Hasan Efendi.

When I asked my father about my physical and psychological difficulties, he surprised me by saying, “Son, these are all a part of being a boy. We all went through them. They are normal and a part of growing up and it is okay to relieve your sexual tension occasionally. It causes no harms. But remember in our Circassian culture, we believe that the spirit of our ancestors lives in us. Don’t do anything stupid to disturb their spirit. When it comes to bullying and starting a fight, do not do any of those. But if somebody tries to bully you or hits you, you must immediately react and hit back twice as hard.”

I was incredibly pleased with his practical, timely and convincing advice and took them at heart. I remember one day in a boarding school; an elder boy tried to bully me and pushed me to the ground. There was a pile of sand on the ground. I took a handful of sand and threw it right into his face. He started to cry, saying ”my eyes, my eyes” and from that incident on, nobody ever tried to bully me.

Since my father’s advice was so relevant, so practical, helpful, and convincing, and in addition since my father was my entryway to Circassian Culture, I insisted to go back to village every summer to visit him and my real family.