Monday, 16 April 2012

N for Namuk and Nene

Namuk had grown up in Konya, Central Anatolia with his grandmother. He loved Nene like a mother simply because she was there for him. His own mother worked in the city far away.

"Nene, can I go fly my new kite with Kopi? " Namuk always asked politely. "Yes my love, but be careful." Granny called out peeping over her bread-making stove to watch him strut off with a kite clasped tightly under his arm. "Come home before the sun goes down."

It was not uncommon for children to be raised by their grandparents. In some families it was tradition when it came to the first born son. He was a respectful child, diligent at school and spent every waking hour drawing or writing on any form of paper he could get his hands on; white margins of newspapers, half empty exercise books and even on the backs of calenders. 

Nene would often ask herself, "Where did Namuk get this talent for writing? His name means writer, author. It was as if Feriha had some intuitive sense of his talent."

Little did she realise that she, Nene, was indeed the planter of the seeds of fantasy in young Namuk's imagination. 

Every night they would lie in bed looking at the starry skies together; she, weaving ancient Anatolian myths of Tangri, the pure white goose with god-like wisdom and his creation, Er Kishi, whom beset by greed and power became lord of the underworld; and he, integrating and conjuring visions of this concept of heaven and the underworld.   

Then there were the shamans of the earth, with their own brand of extraordinary powers and guardian animals flying between between heaven and the underworld, attempting to enlighten their followers with their drums and rituals.

Many years later, at a book signing at Publishers Arkadas Yayinlari Ltd. Sti. in Ankara, the Barnes & Noble of Turkey, for the launch of his book The Tree of Life, Namuk recalled those magical moments with Nene, the stars and the pull of heaven and the underworld. 


Patricia said...

A most enjoyable post. Like your take on "n". Am now a new follower.

Patricia, Sugar & Spice & All Things ? Nice

Gina said...

Very sweet story. I enjoyed it very much!

From Diary of a Writer in Progress

jabblog said...

The seeds of imagination are sown in childhood but need nurture and light to grow. Namuk was a lucky boy.

Amelia said...

Another nice one. I have never read Annatolian myths so would love if this part could be expanded a little