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January 13, 2025

Consolaçam 16

By Ron Singer

Chapter Two.

Wearing a conspicuous expression of readiness to meet a stranger, and seated alone on a bench at a long table at the end of the cafe nearest the church-mosque, was a person who completely defied my expectations. For one thing, it was a woman! Instead of the Laz boatman I had anticipated, they had sent a comely female.

My first thought was that the woman must be their legal representative, but a single glance disabused me of that idea. For, had she been a lawyer, she would have been wearing modern dress —perhaps a western-style women’s business suit, with trousers and matching jacket, and dark leather shoes. Instead, this statuesque young woman wore traditional Laz attire: a billowing gown over light-colored pantaloons; a brightly flowered scarf around her hips; red slippers; and, in her hair, a sprig of some herb, probably rosemary.

With a warm smile, this attractive woman rose to meet me. I noted that we were the same height, about 170 centimeters. Not knowing what else to do, but unwilling to take her extended hand, I proffered a deep bow. She sat back down and, somewhat awkwardly, I followed suit, at the opposite end of the long table. When a grumpy old waiter had taken our order —a small glass of Turkish coffee for me, and a pot of black tea for her, speaking serviceable Turkish, she satisfied my obvious curiosity, by explaining her presence.

“The Laz boatmen,“ she began, “ have decided to allay the suspicions of Perendeoglu bey by choosing me, a harmless female, to represent our interests.” I nodded my understanding. “By this choice, they further thought to advertise our good intentions. You see, I am a musical performer who is to be featured at the cafe they propose to open, which, by the way, would not be in Balat, but in the Ayvansaray neighborhood of Eyup. So we would not really be your competitors.”

I paused for several moments to frame my reply. Despite her protestations, I feared that her rich contralto voice, and her singularly attractive person, might well make the Eyup cafe a formidable competitor. But, since Perendeoglu had hinted that he preferred a peaceful resolution to this ugly dispute, I also wanted to match her courtesy. Accordingly, I determined, on the spot, to make a counteroffer. I momentarily considered switching to Ladino, in order to determine if the Laz woman spoke our tongue. But, deciding that might be provocative, I continued in our common tongue, Turkish.

“Well, Hanımefendi [Madame],” I said. At this point, the old waiter returned with our orders. Waiting while he set them down and retreated into the bowels of the cafe, I then spoke, hurrying my words, so as to give her no chance to interrupt. “By choosing you as their emissary, the Laz have displayed a generous willingness to negotiate that must surely please my friend and master, Perendeoglu.” We exchanged smiles. “In fact, Hanımefendi, I am authorized to extend a counteroffer. What would you say to the idea of contracting with us to become a featured singer and dancer at our cafe? Of course,” I hastily added, “it would be necessary for you to audition for this position and, assuming that you were successful, it would be Perendeoglu who would determine the terms of the contract —wages, length of tenure, and so forth. And, also of course, the Laz leadership would have to be amenable to this arrangement.” I paused for another smile. “So, Hanımefendi, what do you think?”

All that having been said, in order to give this attractive woman a few moments to compose her reply, I sipped from my cooling glass of coffee. She responded in kind, deliberately pouring a measure of her tea from the small green pot into the small white cup the waiter had provided. But, then, she surprised me once again by ignoring her tea, and, instead, laughing a loud, but mellifluous, laugh. Instead of demanding an explanation, I patiently waited for her laughter to subside.

“Well,” she finally spluttered, “that is a very generous offer, isimsiz bey [Mr. No Name]. But were I to accept it, I fear that the Laz boatmen would kill me.”

That seemed such a compelling objection that I abandoned my impromptu counter-proposal, returning, instead, to the original statement Perendeoglu and I had agreed upon—which was to mildly threaten the Laz interlopers. First, I allowed a moment to pass, during which we each sipped our beverage.

“As you wish, then,” I said. Respecting her apparent preference for anonymity, I resisted the urge to divulge my name. “But please convey our continued hope that your masters will reconsider their plan to open a rival establishment in, or near, Balat. Such a move would surely trigger the well-known ire of Perendeoglu bey.”

The response to my threat was quick and blunt. “I will convey your words to the boatmen,” she said. “But please understand that they are likely to react to your threat in a violent manner. Perhaps, you would wish to amend the message I am to carry back?”

I obliged with a platitude about an “amicable solution” and, on that note, we ended the meeting. But, from politeness, we lingered for a few moments to finish our drinks. Then, after a bit of comic wrangling, we divided the modest bill, and bowed our farewells. I never saw the woman again.

In the event, the Laz did open their cafe, with the predictable results Perendeoglu had hoped to avoid. After several months of verbal jousting, and two or three bloody skirmishes, he bowed to the inevitable, but not without considerable grumbling, which included his usual vow to emigrate to Palestine. Indeed, the following year, 5698-99 [1938], saw us both departing for eretz yisroel. We turned out to be among the lucky few to escape the general holocaust that turned out to rank, along with the destruction of the two ancient temples, as among our people’s greatest misfortunes. I suppose you could say that we abandoned our old sanctuary for a new one.



—Phenomenal Literature, vol. 8, Issue 2, Jan.-Mar. 2024.

Epilogue:

The author interviews the ghosts of the four protagonists of Consolaçam.

RS: Malka Mitrani, if you don’t mind, let’s begin with you. During your lifetime, Turkish Jews commemorated the four centuries since their escape from the Spanish Inquisition. Do you remember the commemoration, and do you think it is accurate to characterize the 400 years of Ottoman sanctuary as a “consolation”?

MM: Of course, I remember the event. Jews were in the streets cheering, bands were playing, and speeches and prayers of thanks, given, all over Turkey.

UA: Having been present when the sanctuary began, in 1492, I heartily endorse the commemoration.

NA: Of course, less than fifty years after the quatricentennial, there was no longer any Ottoman Empire left to applaud.

Y: And if they decide to commemorate the sesquicentennial, there will be no Jews left in Turkey to celebrate!

RS: What do you say to those who criticize the granting of sanctuary as motivated by interests of state?

NA: What a stupid criticism! As if any government policies were ever motivated by anything else!

Y: Of course, “interests of state” sometimes also led Ottoman emperors to allow the massacre of Jews —and others.

NA: “Allow?” You could say, “encourage!” And it was not just the Ottomans. Do you happen to know whom Hitler admired for his seizure of power in a putsch? Ataturk! The Fuehrer’s only reservation was that Ataturk did not go far enough in his campaign of ethnic cleansing. To the Turkish leaders’ credit, however, I will say that, later on, they resisted importing the Holocaust. Although, of course, that was after Ataturk’s death, in 1938. Then, too, there was the matter of the wealth tax of 1942, aimed directly at the Jews and other non-Muslims. That tax ruined a lot of people.

Y: Wealth tax, my foot! Tell that to the penniless Jews of Balat!

NA: In fact, poor people were not exempt. As usual, they may have been the ones who suffered most.

Y: Whatever… and, through most of the War, until 1945, Turkish neutrality was probably all that kept the Nazis from grabbing the oil of the Middle East, which might have allowed them to win the war! You could say that the Turks saved the world’s bacon!

MM: An unfortunate expression! Also, wasn’t the wealth tax levied against the prospect of Turkey’s entering the War? I wonder what they really did with that money for those three years.

RS: Still, in terms of the Ottoman Empire, all that was after the fact. We know what happens when empires collapse.

MM: Even as we were celebrating 400 years of tolerance, in my day, people could see the handwriting on the wall.

Y: Belshazzar’s feast! Ms. Mitrani, you are a veritable Daniel.

UA: Even so, in 1492, it was the Empire that saved us. Never mind 1942, or 1908! You naysayers make me sick! If you had been the ones fleeing the fires of the Inquisition, you’d be talking out of the the other side of your mouths. Judging the Empire by its end is a kind of hindsight. History makes fools and knaves of us all!

NA: True enough, my friend. Republics also collapse, when they make the same mistakes as empires.

RS: But let’s get back to the idea of “consolation.” What does it say about the Jews that they had to accept such low-hanging fruit for all of those centuries?

MM: What do you think it says, Mister Author? Didn’t you even bother to read Samuel Usque’s book?

Y: Yeah, that book whose title you stole. One of Usque’s main points was that we had to make do with any fruit we could grab. Still true!

RS: Point taken. People say another form of consolation for Jews is tearing each other down.

Y: We boatmen of Balat were masters of that skill. When the Haskoy boatmen would shout at us, “Proud youth,” we would rejoin, “Those of Haskoy, little raisins.” Heh heh!

NA: That sort of ethnic sneering does no-one any good. It represents the kind of chauvinism that …

Y: Thank you for your valuable insight, Mr. Know-It-All!

MM: People, people! That kind of one-upmanship among Jews is exactly what my story was about. Our author, Singer bey, makes a good point. So stop your bickering right now! Just stop it!

RS: Thank you, Ms. M! On that note…

THE END


SOURCES:

Ahmad, Feroz. The Young Turks and the Ottoman Nationalities. Armenians, Greeks, Albanians, Jews and Arabs, 1908-1918 (The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City, 2014).

Baer, Marc David. The Ottomans. Khans, Caesars, and Caliphs. (Basic Books. New York, 2021).

Birnbaum, Marianna D. THE LONG JOURNEY OF GRACIA MENDES (Central European University Press, Vienna & Budapest, 2003).

Marie-Christine Bornes-Varol, “The Balat Quarter and Its Image: A Study of a Jewish Neighborhood in Istanbul,” (trans. from French by Sri Fassin and Avigdor Levy. In Levy, Avigdor. editor. The Jews of the Ottoman Empire. (The Darwin Press, Princeton, NJ, in cooperation with The Institute of Turkish Studies, Inc. Washington, D.C., 1994)

Siege Warfare in Verse and Prose

Young Turks, Jews, Freemasons and the Armenian Deportation

Inalcik, Halil (transl. Norman Itkowitz and Colin Imber). The Ottoman Empire. The Classical Age. 1300-1600. (Aristide D. Caratzas, publisher Orpheus Publishing, Inc. New Rochelle, N.Y., 1973, reprinted 1989; first published by Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 2973)

Juhasz, Esther. Sephardi Jews in the Ottoman Empire (Jerusalem, 1990).

Lewis, Bernard. The Jews of Islam (Princeton Classics 86, Princeton, New Jersey, updated edition, 2014, original edition, 1984).

Siege of Vienna.

Greece: A History of Migration

—Sanli, Suleyman. Jews of Turkey: Migration, Culture and Memory (Routledge. London & NewYork, 2019).

—Usque, Samuel, with translation, notes and introduction by Gershon I. Gelbert, PH.D. A Consolation for the Tribulations of Israel (Bloch Publishing Co. New York, 1964. Originally written in 1553.)

—wikipedia, multiple articles, including:
Siege of Belgrade




Article © Ron Singer. All rights reserved.
Published on 2025-01-13
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