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My father hit me only once in my life, and he once hit my brother…
The reason my brother got beaten up: We were in Buyukada. He must have been about 17 or 18 years old. He was playing backgammon with a friend of his, who is now deceased. My grandmother was seriously ill at the time. My father had reminded my brother “Go see grandma, and let me know how she is doing.” My brother, however, lost track of time playing backgammon, and so forgot to visit her. My father asked “Did you go and see grandma?” My brother said “Yes I did.” “How is she doing?” “Umm, she is doing my better.” “Was she standing up? Is she able to walk around?” “Yes she was” replied my brother. My father said “Fine.”
The next day, he went to see my grandmother. Of course, she is still in bed, and cannot walk. He asks her “Why are you still in bed?” “Yes, I never left.” “But, didn’t Mair come, see you yesterday?” “No, he didn’t” she says, but later perceives what is going on. ‘Yes… he actually did visit, I am forgetting,” she says. My father, of course, is aware of what is going on. My grandmother had lied to him to save my brother.
When he came home later, he asked my brother “Did you or did you not go see your grandmother yesterday?” “Yes, I did.” “How was she?” “She was fine.” “Was she walking around?” “Yes.” “OK, you go, lay down on the bed now,” he said to my brother, and began hitting his back with his hands.
My story… Well, there was a different reason: I was about fourteen or fifteen. One Sunday afternoon, my parents had to go to a wedding. Something came up, and they were not going to be able to attend. So, my father wrote a note to the couple in a telegram. He told me “Go, post this telegram from the Galatasaray Post Office.” I went there, and posted the telegram. If I remember correctly, they charged me 13 cents for it, and gave me a receipt. I have no idea why I acted that obtrusively, but I guess I wanted to keep five cents to myself, and so I changed the number 13 to 18. I came home. My father asked “Did you post the telegram?” “Yes,” I said. “Where is the receipt?” he asked. I gave it to him. My father looked at the receipt. On top of it says eighteen (one could probably tell it was changed from thirteen though), but at the bottom it says thirteen in writing. He asked me again: “How much did you pay for this?” “Eighteen cents” I replied. “You come over here” he said. “How much did you pay for this?” He began hitting me on my back saying “You really did pay them eighteen cents? Give me my five cents back.
The reason my brother got beaten up: We were in Buyukada. He must have been about 17 or 18 years old. He was playing backgammon with a friend of his, who is now deceased. My grandmother was seriously ill at the time. My father had reminded my brother “Go see grandma, and let me know how she is doing.” My brother, however, lost track of time playing backgammon, and so forgot to visit her. My father asked “Did you go and see grandma?” My brother said “Yes I did.” “How is she doing?” “Umm, she is doing my better.” “Was she standing up? Is she able to walk around?” “Yes she was” replied my brother. My father said “Fine.”
The next day, he went to see my grandmother. Of course, she is still in bed, and cannot walk. He asks her “Why are you still in bed?” “Yes, I never left.” “But, didn’t Mair come, see you yesterday?” “No, he didn’t” she says, but later perceives what is going on. ‘Yes… he actually did visit, I am forgetting,” she says. My father, of course, is aware of what is going on. My grandmother had lied to him to save my brother.
When he came home later, he asked my brother “Did you or did you not go see your grandmother yesterday?” “Yes, I did.” “How was she?” “She was fine.” “Was she walking around?” “Yes.” “OK, you go, lay down on the bed now,” he said to my brother, and began hitting his back with his hands.
My story… Well, there was a different reason: I was about fourteen or fifteen. One Sunday afternoon, my parents had to go to a wedding. Something came up, and they were not going to be able to attend. So, my father wrote a note to the couple in a telegram. He told me “Go, post this telegram from the Galatasaray Post Office.” I went there, and posted the telegram. If I remember correctly, they charged me 13 cents for it, and gave me a receipt. I have no idea why I acted that obtrusively, but I guess I wanted to keep five cents to myself, and so I changed the number 13 to 18. I came home. My father asked “Did you post the telegram?” “Yes,” I said. “Where is the receipt?” he asked. I gave it to him. My father looked at the receipt. On top of it says eighteen (one could probably tell it was changed from thirteen though), but at the bottom it says thirteen in writing. He asked me again: “How much did you pay for this?” “Eighteen cents” I replied. “You come over here” he said. “How much did you pay for this?” He began hitting me on my back saying “You really did pay them eighteen cents? Give me my five cents back.
Location
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Türkiye
Interview
Enrico Modiano