Читать книгу Exile - Ciler ilhan - Страница 7

Ball

We were playing ball. There was our Sülo, there was Mehmet, there was Fedai, there was Ramazan, and there was Raşit. There was my big brother and Raşit’s big brother. That’s where we always play ball. Sülo’s team was winning again; doesn’t he just love himself as he sneaks past! At that moment, I saw my brother and Raşit’s brother wink at each other. I turned my head and looked; the gendarmes. I didn’t pay any attention. They always come and take our ball when we’re playing. We’re used to it now. They’d taken my big brother and Raşit’s to the station a couple of times and had beaten the living daylight out of them. They were forever accusing them of aiding the rebels, but they never do. Dad always kept us out of these conflicts. He’d promised mum before she died.

I thought the soldiers were going to take our ball again. But suddenly they started shooting. I saw my big brother on the ground. Five soldiers had surrounded him and were firing around his body. My brother had wrapped his arms tightly around his head. I tried to stop the soldiers. One of them punched me in the face and felled me. My brother tried to get up but they pushed him down. Then they started kicking him. Then they dragged him off into the minibus. They kept kicking him as they dragged him. I saw Mehmet running towards the village and I yelled after him, ‘tell my father, tell him to get to the station immediately’. I started to run. The minibus speeded up. I ran all the way to the station. It’s not far from where we play ball. They didn’t let me in. I waited – then Dad came. They didn’t let him in either. Ten minutes later the gendarme came over. Your son’s heart has failed, must have had a heart condition, he told Dad. It’s a lie. My brother was fit as a fiddle.