Oya Baydar - The Lost Word

It is then that Mahmut realizes that they’ve been talking Kurdish. As he knows his code name he must be from the organization. So they are after me. No, no! It can only be a coincidence. I wasn’t important enough for them to send someone after me. They say that they don’t send men after anyone. Isn’t volunteering the principle in our job! All the same…

He pushes his fork around his plate so that his unease won’t be detected. He takes a morsel and puts it in his mouth. The kebab has gone cold and the fat has congealed even in this heat. He feels as though he’s going to be sick. Beliving that Allah will protect him, he asks, ‘Where do we know each other from? Is it from school or somewhere? You’re clearly from my part of the world.’

‘Well, you could call it a kind of school.’

He senses that the man is playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse and that he is enjoying it. His anger begins to swell. ‘I can’t place you,’ he says in a shrill, angry voice. ‘It’s obvious you’ve got the wrong person. I’ve got work to do. I haven’t got time to mess around. If you’ll excuse me … Kardaş, bring me the bill immediately!’

‘Sit down,’ says the man in a low voice. ‘Don’t play games.’

He has stretched one of his legs out straight under the table and is lightly pressing on Mahmut’s foot. Mahmut notices that he is stroking the gun that is on a level with his right hip immediately above his other leg.

‘What do you want from me?’ Mahmut asks, this time in Turkish.

‘One small job. If you pull it off without any trouble then you can live as you wish with your fiancée. You can go wherever you want. Paşê ligel dergîstiya xwe tu çawa dixwezi tu jê wesa biji.’

Mahmut freezes, right to the marrow. The man had said ‘your fiancée’; so he knows everything. It isn’t important that he knows his code name and that he ran away but that he knows about Zelal. So they had followed them. Who? If it were the work of the state … The state would be suspicious or they would have information. They would keep tabs on you and if you were someone important they would catch you. They wouldn’t be interested in a girl. Was it the organization? Evidently the organization knows. The name Mazlum was not just a shot in the dark. Yet he is not really convinced that it could be the organization. Even though the hevals don’t know one another, they would feel some affiliation. It was the stance, the way of sitting, a phrase, a tone of voice … There again, one cannot be a 100 per cent sure, a 100 per cent certain. In recent years there isn’t the old unity in the troops.

‘The leadership knew that you were confused, that you had a problem with focusing on what you were doing. If a person becomes confused it’s only a matter of time before they go over to the other side. Your desertion wasn’t unexpected.’

‘I didn’t run away. I was shot. I was wounded. My arm is still not right. I rolled down the slope wounded. I couldn’t have gone back. If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to find the hevals anyway. And no one came to look for me where I lay wounded.’

As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew that he had made a terrible mistake. He could have insisted that he was not Mazlum. Clearly the man hadn’t recognized him at first hand. The other man waiting at the bus stop must be from the organization or an informer. I’ve landed myself in it — done a really stupid thing. And there is no way to undo it. The only thing to do is risk being shot and run for it.

‘It’s a good story, and perhaps it is partly true, but it’s unconvincing. To tell the truth, in circumstances like these they wouldn’t let a person live — you know that yourself. However, as far as we know, you did not turn yourself in to the authorities and you haven’t informed. For that reason you have one last chance. It will be to your benefit to take it.’

I have one last chance. I had the chance to study and become a doctor. It did not work out. The mountains were a chance, and that didn’t work out. Fleeing and establishing a new life with Zelal was a chance that didn’t work out. Zelal being shot and meeting the writer was a chance, and apparently that didn’t work out. Now I have one last chance.

‘The last chance to prove yourself, a sort of rehabilitation. Rehabilitation not in words but in deeds. The leadership thinks that you are an element that can still be saved.’

‘An element’, eh? An element is for those whose names have been crossed out, for those who are no longer considered comrades; a word used for those who will be exterminated at the first opportunity. And they say an element can be saved!

At this moment he is in an ambush with all exits covered. Helpless and hopeless. He is overcome with exhaustion. He has not the strength to resist. He asks out of curiosity, ‘How long have you been following me?’

‘I don’t know. they passed the job on to me. Someone was actually following the girl on a matter of honour. The girl’s elder brother was from the mountain troops. He confessed. As you can appreciate, it’s complicated. The organization is after you, the girl’s brother is after her, and the state is after everyone. That’s the story.’

‘I don’t want this any more,’ says Mahmut without hope. ‘I want to live quietly, far away from here. Say that I’m frightened, I’m soft then, not the man for the mountains. You said it yourself. I was neither informer, nor did I betray anyone. I just want to leave and go my own way. That’s all.’

‘No, it’s not that simple. Entrance is free, but the exit costs. Didn’t they tell you that at the beginning?’

Mahmut notices that the man is pointedly stroking the gun concealed in his pocket.

‘When you talk about the beginning, what was said was different from what was done. And, what’s more, the entrance was not free. The price was high. The price was a whole human life.’

If he were to get up suddenly, act quickly and throw the chair at the man, run out of the door and escape … Would he use the gun? There are people everywhere, the street in front of the kebab shop is crowded. Would he dare? With one last hope, to gain time and a little from curiosity he asks, ‘What is it you want me to do?’ He regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. I’ve even started to bargain. He’ll take advantage of that.

‘It’s a job you’re no stranger to. A small explosion. There’s hardly any risk. Remote-controlled.’

He looks at the man. Someone he has never seen but it’s as though he knows him. No, he’s not from the mountain; he’s sure of that. From where? Mahmut cannot place him. Did he say ‘a job you’re no stranger to’? If the man had been really on the inside he would know that he was a stranger to this kind of job. What’s more, is there a scarcity of troops for these sorts of town operations? Since when have these jobs been forced on anyone?

‘I know the mountain,’ he says. ‘I’ve never done a town operation. What’s more, the killing of innocent people is anathema to me. I fight only one to one.’

‘Shut up!’ says the man in a peremptory and hostile tone. ‘You’re bargaining like an out-of-work model who has been offered a job. This job will be done. It’s the leadership’s orders. The towns have been neglected recently because of this ceasefire business. There’s been a ceasefire — and has anything resulted from this? The TC carries out operation after operation. Anyway, apart from those meddlesome intellectuals constantly publishing leaflets, there is no one who believes in ceasefires or peace. And from time to time we get those collaborating slimy bastards on the scene: a peaceful solution, burying our weapons and expressions of brotherhood … You have a ceasefire, and they come and bomb, they come and hunt you down in the caves like rabbits, an attempt to subdue and torment the people … Those mugs for peace get what they deserve.’