Without a Country

by Ayşe Kulin

Just be yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do. What could be more precious in life than the freedom to make your own choices and your own mistakes?”

“I’m listening to my inner voice.” “And what’s it telling you?” “That I should savor every second.” “But all you do is waste time, Korhan! You don’t have a family or a proper job.” “I’ve got peace of mind! Nothing’s more precious than that.” “Love is precious, too.”

“never let your pride get the better of you. Life isn’t nearly as long as you think. It gallops by. Blink, and you miss it. If you love someone, never hide it. Open your heart.”

“All I want is for her to be as happy as I am. Am I asking too much?” Suzi said. “She’ll have to find her own path and her own happiness. Just don’t expect her to be like you. That would be asking for far too much.”

He was an easy companion and a good listener. He had interesting ideas and helped her learn about herself. But Korhan preferred listening to talking, for some reason.

Religious passions were being openly

inflamed to serve a political agenda.

Had she and Korhan just spent six wonderful years together, or had she let six years slip through her fingers?

“Enjoy the journey,

transformed her from a middle-class girl in search of comfort to an independent woman in search of freedom at all costs.

Turks became enamored with sliced pineapple and Chiquita bananas, a giant, flavorless version of the sweet fingerlings grown along the coast near places like Side.

There was a hole in her soul, a void that only the most precious gift of all could fill. Unconditional love. And there was only one way to get it. A child!

the man who had first taught her the importance of being herself.

herself. She thought I’d be happy to hear that. Well, I suppose it’s better than being conceived just to complete a family tableaux: husband, wife, dog, baby.

believed they could make a difference, whether by planting a tree or leaving a bowl of water in the street for the stray cats. They were so full of love and a sense of purpose.

I want to repay the world for the generosity and love those two have always shown me.

“A bird with a broken wing can’t ever relax. We fled here from Germany, didn’t we? We’ll be outsiders no matter where we go.”

People had grown battle-hardened by then, inured

to death and not easily shocked. What I and so many others failed to realize was that something had settled over our country, something hazy and black, and it was muffling our speech and stopping us from seeing the world clearly.

We respect all faiths, Esra. And people who aren’t at all religious, too.

You can think of faith simply as a kind of path from your heart to God.”

“Rituals and community can help people find their path. Most people adopt their parents’ religions without ever thinking about why.

The people planting bombs, the ones who hated anyone who

wasn’t like them . . . didn’t they know anyone who wasn’t like them? It’s absurd now to think how naïve I was. I assumed people were good and the world was a mostly kind place. For that, you can blame my grandparents, the nicest people in the world.

There are two things I ask of you.

One is to learn to forgive those you love. Be prepared. You will be called on one day to forgive.”

“Su, you hit me.” “Of course I did. I’m a doctor’s daughter. Even babies are slapped for their own good. You don’t have to go to medical

school to learn that,” Grandma said.