Arab Qaysim…
[1945FromIğdır/Tuzluca/Hedimlivillage
Life led him to France around 1973. And he could only last there until 1981.
He had not taken his family and his feeling of homesickness did not allow him to stay any longer. He returned to his hometown Tuzluca in 1981. Since he understood beekeeping, he started producing beeswax. When that wasn’t enough, he also tried shoemaking…
Then the year came to 1992. Those were the days when the USSR collapsed. When Azerbaijan gained its freedom, commercial and social activity began in Iğdır, the border city with Nakhchivan. He migrated from Tuzluca to Iğdır. He opened a delicatessen shop here together with Bee Materials.
He had eight children. “None of them upset me, may God be pleased with them,” he said.
A clean person and halal sustenance. Therefore, a family full of love…
I met him in 2000. While I heard that he was an honest tradesman, I was also gradually experiencing it myself. He had a truly unique style. His prices were reasonable and he was friendly to the customer. After a few times, as he understood your sensitivity about the product at which setting, he would always talk in the style of “There is no honey suitable for you, this type of cheese, this prune will suit you…”.
I stopped by the shop about a month ago. When he said, “Haji, I’m closing for a month now, just so you know,” I felt something inside me break, but it wasn’t like today.
When I went to the shop today, I felt like the late Cahit Zarifoğlu’s line “Good days pass quickly, inside of us is always a country of goodbye…”.
That empty shop made me feel like another part of me was missing in this city.
It was normally an ordinary shop, but like dozens of others, it too was closing. Maybe someone else would open it tomorrow, but that wasn’t me.
I saw that the memories I had identified with for more than 20 years, the memories beyond a shop, the ease of meeting each other, were disappearing.
I pulled out the chair and sat next to him quietly. Actually, I didn’t want to talk much. I took out my mobile phone and lingered for a while. At that time, he was also packing the drawers.
-Oh, that’s it, Hacı jan, look, it’s over. It ended like this on one page. “It’s been 44 years, now I will live at home,” he said.
Somehow, I had the opportunity to speak, which I did not have the courage to do.
-But why? Why did you make this decision? Is it health, the pressure of children, the market, what?
-All…
I am old now. My feet can’t carry me. My children see this too, and they feel sad. Recently, I almost lost money on all the goods I bought, and I could not replace what I sold. I was always doing this job with 20-30% profit, but it doesn’t save me anymore. Expenses, rent, taxes… I was stuck.
-Did they ever notice you? Have you ever received a response that honors a person who has represented “honest tradesmen” until this age? Has anyone ever come and gone on behalf of Professional Organizations, Non-Governmental Organizations, Communities, Mosques, Associations?
-It’s not like that, but this was happening to my customers as well. They said they felt confident. Otherwise who will give me flowers? (Laughing)
As I was leaving the shop, I said, “Bless us.” We have been doing business for 20 years. Cold and hot days have passed us by…
As he said, “Well done, well done to you too,” he looked away and turned his back.
I left quickly… Because I know myself.
You know, sometimes you see it in the movies, a neighborhood environment; Butcher Ramazan uncle. Manav Ali. Uncle Muharrem, the grocery store…
They are more than Butchers, Greengrocers and Grocery Stores.
Sometimes even a fountain is more than just a fountain for you. A ball of memories, experiences, longings, reunions.
“Arap Emi” was that person for me.
He offered me a living example of not playing with the scales, of having a conscience, and of being compassionate. He had a Muslim heart.
The more I read it, the more human I became. Because he was a good person.
I pray to God for his health and well-being.
May he keep us in his prayers…
Ali Tumay
Researcher Writer
