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An Istanbul Memory

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It was raining cats and dogs in Istanbul. It was such a rainy day like that the god annoyed to whole people on the earth and was sending thunderstorms. The little boy tried to find a dry place where he could stay until the end of the rain or he could be pneumonia. Anyway he couldn’t recoup the day because of the poorness of people. Just one or two people came to have colored their shoes.
Finally he stayed under an awning with lots of people. They looked pityingly to the boy who seemed like a little and undersized cat. One of women with an umbrella told him: “You gonna be ill in those rags, haven’t you got a home?”
For an instant boy looked very sad and desperate but then remembered what he had taught and asked to her if she wanted her shoes to be polished. The woman answered to him positively with the thoughts of helping him a little bit. At the same time the rain and the boy’s job finished. He took his money and left there quickly and the people were looking at him as an infectious disease carrying figure.
The boy didn’t see them because he was engaged in his thoughts. If he would go to home they would beat him until he became a half-dead. Probably if he lost his consciousness he could be drowned by his blood and no one would care so he had to be found somewhere he could lodge safety at the night. He had to be careful because in this circumstances every maniac and perverse could harm even kill him.
Why does he need to born like that? Why couldn’t he be a child of a rich family so that he wouldn’t have to worry about where he could spend the overnight or how he could find any food? What’s the difference between him and that always ice-cream eating, fat children? The world is unfair…
After he spent his night at a back alley under the cardboards and more… He understood that he was hungry because nothing had gone to his stomach for two days and the weather was cold. What could he do…? A man called him with his right hand and pointed his shoes. The boy dashed from between the cardboards with the happiness of finding a job. He had done his job in the best way and opened his wounded, frail hands for the response of his work but man’s face was straight. He slapped the boy with his callous hand. As if the boy was waiting for this, he ran with his polish man box without looking where he was going.
He spent all day in the same way and sat down to a curb and opened his box. There he took a piece of knitting which had creased for kept in a hand. He took it under his nose and breathed with happiness.
It was late night and almost no one was on the streets. He leaned back to the sidewalk and fell asleep with knowing that his mother was in somewhere and doing something for him.
Next day an old journalist approached to the crowd with curious. They told him that there was a job in Taksim square and without a pre-information he had sent to there. When he reached to the crowd he asked the event to his colleague.
“You see Turan, it’s all the same. The world had saved from a bum last night” with his cigarette in his mouth and continued. “Cops find him on the sidewalk and the weird thing is that he was holding piece of knitting on his heart. It’s all the same. You know, sometimes I think I had to drop this job and have a holiday somewhere like Philippines or California. This job makes people heartless and callous…




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