- This was first published on December 7th, 2016
For about three years I see, talk and help out an old man that keeps recycling stuff from the trash bins on our street. He always is very polite and tries to take care of himself, but many days he really looks like a homeless. His age was hard to guess, but he looks by far too old and skinny for pushing his little three wheeled hand cart up the slope. Like a gentleman, he never asked for money, after two years he did ask for food – some bread and cheese, since he was hungry. Even when I ask, what kind of cheese he likes, he is shy and polite “Whatever you want” is his calm answer. Even if I tell him that it does not make a difference to me what I buy, his answer stays the same “Whatever you want”.
A few months ago (I am wanting to write this text since weeks) I saw him sitting next to the trash bins. This time he did not have his hand cart and he was very upset talking out loud to himself. I walked up to him and asked if he is ok. He was so upset but still did not want to talk at first. I kept asking and he told me, that the municipality workers, had once again taken away his hand cart and given him a fine for “littering the streets”. It was not the first time, he had told me that. He complained “What littering? I clean up the trash and sort it” and it is true, he always is watching out that the area looks clean and throws trash into the bins and places usables on his cart. “They just want to make money of me”, he said angry. He could not earn much money without the cart.
Since long I had planned to talk to him and find out what his story was. I invited him to have a “Cay” with me in the cafe just next to us. He did not want to but after some back and forth, he agreed to drink cay with me but only if would invite me. “Benden olacak” – It´s on me. I sure did not want to offend him and let him keep his pride, his honor and agreed.
We sat down and he talked about how the municipality workers treat him. After some small talk, I finally got to talk about his background. He told me that he is from Samsung and used to be a plasterer (or painter) and used to loved his work. To my surprise he was only 55, but looked so much older. Since three days he sleeps under the bushes next to the trash bins – exposed to rain and the cold, he said.
Then it took a turn: He had been in jail, he told me. For 18 years since he had killed someone. “Gee, first impressions sure can fool you”, I thought. I kept asking and he got wound up, louder and upset “I killed my wife, since she cheated on me. She took my ´Namus´ (honor) and I killed that bitch!”
I was completely shocked, the past three years and all the times we helped him popped up in my head. My thought was “Holy shit, what kind of a sick person did we help all this time. I should get up and never talk to him again.” It was an emotional roller coaster – heat waves, anger, disgust and shock, I was totally frozen and surprised. I did not see this coming.
After some seconds, I tried to be rational and find out more. He claims she had cheated many times. I wanted to know if he was sure, did he have proof or if he was just very jealous? Apparently he caught her in the act. I did not ask how he killed her, in that moment I did not feel like it was important or the right time to ask.
“Namus”- (Honor) he repeated for 2-3 times in a angry tone.
“It is the most important thing in the world – at least in Turkey” he said. He was still very upset after 28 years. In the next minute he became totally calm again. I understood that “in his world” he believed to have had no choice but to do what he had done. I openly asked him, is “honor” worth a human life, in fact two lives? Could he not just have divorced her? He did not agree – “Not possible” he said and I thought “…apparently not in the countryside of Samsun 30 years ago.”
We kept talking and after he had served his time, he never had worked again. He has no home, mostly sleeps on the street and has hardly money to even buy food. He would love to work, but no one wants an old man he says. In the end I had to ask him again. Was “Namus” worth throwing away his live? Would he do it again? What use is “Namus” now, look at your situation. This time he became very sad and looked down on the ground, he agreed it was wrong in a soft tone.
We chatted a bit more before I got up. I could not decide if this man, that I keep helping seeing since years was a cold blooded murderer or a victim of his education and surroundings. Things are never just black or white – we have to see the gray zones. I do not think there is any excuse for violence or even murder, but it is something too common in Turkey. Who am I to judge him for what has happened with my background and “growing up in such a different way”. I knew for a fact, that he was homeless and the only tool he had to earn money was gone, plus he had to pay a fine. And I saw in his eyes that he regretted what had happened – maybe only because it “ended” his live.
I am torn and will never ever forget what he told me. But mostly I will always keep wondering what the version of the story of his dead wife would have been.
Before getting up, I slipped him a 50TL note under his Cay glas so he could at least get stuff in the next one or two days. And I let him pay my Cay, so he could keep his “Namus”…