What's the Deal with the Strange Things in My Head (Part Two)
By: DaDa
Dear friends, today I'll continue sharing an excerpt from "The Strange Things in My Head":
A thought flashed through his mind - the mugging was just a dream, and everything was as it had been. He wouldn't tell Rayiha that he had been robbed, because he hadn't been robbed. Even if he could believe this illusion for just a few seconds, it helped ease his pain considerably. He shook the bell in his hand. "Boza." he called out as usual, but at the same time, as if in a dream, he felt that not a single sound came from his throat. In those good old days, whenever he was sad, humiliated, or heartbroken over something on the street, Rayiha would always comfort him well when he got home. In twenty-five years of selling boza, for the first time, before the boza in his jug was sold out, Mevlut didn't call out "Boza" all the way but instead hurried home. Stepping into the home that had only one room, from the silence in the room, he knew that his two daughters in primary school were already asleep. Rayiha sat on the edge of the bed, as she did every night, doing handiwork while glancing at the television with the sound turned down low, waiting for Mevlut to come home.
"I'm not selling boza anymore," Mevlut said.
Like many important writers, Pamuk belongs to his own nation, yet is destined to remain forever a wandering writer, an outsider. It is like that classic line of poetry, so famous it has become almost overused: "Why are my eyes always full of tears? Because I love this land so deeply." Deep love is forever beautiful and deeply moving, yet it is also the easiest thing to be let down.
In "The Strange Things in My Head," Mevlut is not a successful man. On the contrary, his life is filled with all kinds of disappointments. He came to Istanbul at the age of 12 to make a living, and by middle age he was still walking the streets and alleys. This kind of experience always invites mockery, because "the people who started out scraping by at the same time as you have pretty much all gotten rich by now, haven't they?" But in the face of such mockery, and even something more terrifying - attacks from vicious dogs or street thugs - Mevlut retained the dignity that a lower-class citizen should have: optimism and courtesy on the premise of survival. He did not loathe the various jokes people made at his expense; on the contrary, he would respond to them positively. This is likewise his attitude toward life - distress is an objectively existing emotion, but it should not obscure people's goodwill and hope toward life.
Mevlut has already lived in Istanbul for forty-three years and will go on living there. From the original "night house" to the forest of high-rises in the end, the city has step by step become what it is today, and if Mevlut, this ordinary protagonist, has had too much good fortune, it also comes from the help and support of the people around him, as well as the freedom he gained from always walking the night roads selling boza, the endless strength that sustains life, and finally, the existence of faith is latent, and will make you calmer when you encounter difficulties. Alright, that's all for today's explainer. See you next time.