Radio

NAME MECİT…… HE IS MY FATHER

He was born in 1934, the only son of Münevver Hanım and Şamil Ağa in Beşpınar Village of Bayburt…
Eight sisters, one boy. A child of years of absence in a one-room house.
At the age of 16, he fell in love with my mother, his uncle’s daughter, Alime, and the blue-eyed girl… Alime’s father was richer, she begged her father to ask for this girl… What should Şamil Ağa do, his only son left and asked Alime Hanım, her father Faik Bey…
Mr. Faik said that my daughter is small, but he did not want to offend his relative Şamil Ağa. They can’t get it anyway, so he asked Şamil Ağa for a dowry with the thought that I would solve the issue without resentment..
Faik Bey said to my daughter that I would like to be in Beşibiryer… Alime Hanım’s mother, Reyhan Hanım, was also against this marriage. Don’t worry, Rehyane said, they can’t take the gold anyway, so we don’t give our daughter away without resentment…
But Mecit is determined, what he did, he convinced his father, Shamil owed money to the agha, sold and sold everything he had and went and took it, gold in one place..
He had to give his daughter Faik Bey…
He took Alime Hanım at the age of 19 before he went to the military. Shortly after, the military service that lasted for two years without any leave.
She was a poet, loved to write, a soulful person my father ..
It’s easy to say, two years of uninterrupted military service because he has no money to take leave.
He kept a diary while he was in the army, and put his longing into verses;

My half has come again, I remember I cry
I cry with the fire of longing
Hands celebrate, laugh and play
I tie the land once…

The door of my house faces north
How nice are the roses of the army
A coy lover looks at my way too
For this reason, I present you (Friday, 6 July 1956, Bergama)

He worked hard, became the father of three boys and two girls, he struggled to get them all educated…
They used to call my father Fancy Mecit…
Coming from the field, after taking care of the animals in the barn, they change their clothes and go to the village square.
That’s why the villagers called him FANCY as a nickname…

“We came early, son, to the world,” he always told me. We suffered a lot, people today are very lucky…

This tape was gifted to my father by a friend, he always liked to listen to sad weather.
A house here, a house across
The problem is, what happened to our neighbors?
Forty-year-old tree withered
It doesn’t look like our village, come on…

He loved this song.
When he saw every office and position I came to, he would say to me;

“Don’t forget your village and where you came from, son”

I didn’t forget my father, I made a museum for our field that you and I cut with scythes…

Our trees do not dry out, a house does not stay here or across the street. People from all over the world are flocking to our village now…