Their names are Tefek and Gülsüm.
At the time I met them they were in their 70s, but that spark of love was still
evident in their manner with one another. Tefek had built their home in a
spectacular canyon (Kőprűlű) in the southern part of Turkey. Only a goat could
find the way. The road was treacherous and I held my breath as Aydin (my guide)
navigated through the canyon. The jeep stopped and there, before us, was a
large sturdy house built of stone. A purple bougainvillea flourished in an old
oil tin. No electricity, and no running
water, but there was a convenient well, candles, and lanterns. Each room had a
fireplace. Nine of their ten children were gone, only their youngest daughter,
Fatos (Fatosh), remained. She had so far refused several suitors and lived at
home with her parents, cooking and cleaning, enjoying the quiet of country
life. There were two cows that Tefek milked each morning, several goats and a
herd of sheep that roamed the nearby rocks. In the valley below was a roaring
stream, its sound soothing in the night.
As Fatos prepared our dinner,
Gülsüm took my hand and led me into her bedroom. A fire was softly glowing in
the fireplace. The furnishings were simple. A small chest and a stack of the
futon-like quilts they use. Several to sleep on, one to cover up with. We sat
on the hearth. She held her hands to the fire and spoke softly in Turkish. Then
she took my hand and held it as we sat together, two women sharing a kinship
that needed no words.
We ate
dinner on the deck under the Milky Way, drank strong red wine and many cups of
chai while my guide Aydin told me their story.
Tefek, who
has the bluest eyes I have ever seen, was born nearby in Tazi village. His
father died when he was small, his mother when he was eleven. And so he was
orphaned. No other family would take him in, and he had no relatives in the
area and so was left to be on his own. Stubbornly he refused to go to another
village, even though he was encouraged to go find “his people.” But he had decided
that his people were there in that village, and so he was
tolerated, given an occasional job, and treated as an oddity.
When he was
fifteen he saw eighteen-year-old Gülsüm. Tefek fell in love and began to find
ways to court her. It wasn’t easy, for he was poor and her father, brothers,
and cousins protected her. But he found his ways. He worked tirelessly and
saved his money all the while finding opportunities to see and talk to her.
When he had saved enough, he approached her and asked her to marry him. Gülsüm
was willing, but the customs were strict. Tefek would have to ask her father
for her hand and provide proof that he could care for her. Tefek knew he could
care for her, but he also knew Gülsüm’s father. He was a man of substance and
had other plans for his only daughter. The father refused. So Tefek did what
custom also allowed. He stole Gulsüm! And she went with him, willingly. They
ran away to the place where they now live and began their life together.
Gulsüm’s
father was furious and he enrolled his sons and nephews to hunt for the young
people. They were advised to find them and arrest Tefek when they did. They
obviously didn’t try very hard. Tefek had not gone far away, but it took three
months before they were found and by then, Gulsüm was pregnant. The brothers
brought the young couple back to Gulsüm’s indignant father. He scolded and
fussed, but what was he to do? A grandchild was on the way, and Gulsüm looked
happy and healthy. He finally embraced Tefek, called him son, and made the arrangements
for a proper wedding. After a huge celebration, he sent the young couple back
to their home.
Aydin
finished the story and Tefek picked up his shepherd’s flute. One hundred
twenty-five years old, it sounded as sweet as when it was new. Tefek announced
he would play a love song for his bride. Gulsüm smiled and blushed. Sixty years
of child bearing and hard work and Gulsüm would run away with Tefek again. I
was sure of that.
Extremely engaging and colorful! A beautiful and very human tale - well told!
ReplyDeleteLovely story... There are probably lots of people in Turkey who have been through similar things in life, some ending tragically unfortunately. Just a quick note: Tefek sounds like a weird name. It sounds more like the second part to a Turkish description of someone of short stature: Ufak tefek. Maybe this was his nickname because he was of small build???? Just wondering...
ReplyDeleteHope more stories are on the way dear Ruth:)
I understand that Dan Fogelberg's song, "Make Love Stay" was inspired by Tim Robbins' book "Still Life with Woodpecker." I like a good love story as much as the next multi-married man who has finally found himself owned by a woman. What I appreciate even more than a good love story is one about a couple that 'made love stay', as yours is here, Ruth.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
Dan H.
Or perhaps, Tom Robbins' book.
ReplyDeleteDan H.
This is an amazing story! Something straight out of a movie.
ReplyDelete