After finishing the German school, I started my engineering studies in the capital city of Ankara, about an eight-hour bus ride away from my parents’ home in Istanbul. The curriculum at this university was in English. So at eighteen, I learned English.
Widespread social unrest engulfed the entire country. In March of 1971, there was yet another student uprising against something or other. The army surrounded the dormitory where I was staying. The siege lasted for two days. I hid mostly under my bed, praying that I wouldn’t get killed. During a quiet moment, I went to the terrace on the top floor to see what was happening. There, a few students were lying on the floor in pain, some bleeding, others quietly helping them. They were angst-ridden and defiant. I quickly went downstairs and resumed hiding under my bed.
When this chaos finally ended, students were rounded up and corralled into the sports arena. We were all stinking from the stress. That night, we slept on the gym floor. The next day, each student gave a statement to the prosecutor. After my interrogation, I finally had something to eat and then I was free to go.
I returned to my dorm room, filled up the giant blue backpack that my mother had sewn for me a couple of years earlier. I looked around for the last time at the bullet-ridden concrete walls and drops of dried blood here and there. My mind was made up.
First, I visited my oldest aunt, a pediatrician, who lived close to the university. She was delighted to see me alive. Our hug was airtight. After some chit chat, I told her about my decision to go “West.” She hugged me again and wished me all the best. I never saw this strong woman again. When I visited her many years later, all she had was a frail body. Alzheimer’s had set in.
I took the bus back to Istanbul. My parents and my sister were waiting for me, in tears. We all hugged for a while, no words needed to be spoken.
***
While I got ready to leave, I searched for a new university. I mailed applications to a handful of universities in Canada and the USA. This included the University of Toronto, where my older brother was doing his Ph.D. in economics.
After the final good-bye to my parents, on April 11th, 1971, just shy of my twentieth birthday, I left for Zurich. I went straight to the world-famous technical university, ETH. The person at the admissions told me I would have to take the last year of high school in Switzerland if I wanted to enroll at ETH; a direct transfer was not possible. That hurt.
The next day, on Good Friday, I took the train to West Berlin. With only a little pocket change left, I walked all the way from the train station to the only address I had, that of a high school friend of mine. After about two hours’ walk in intermittent rain with my heavy luggage, I arrived at his place. Unfortunately, he was gone for a week. His landlady graciously let me stay in his room.
I enrolled in engineering studies at the Technische Universität Berlin. While waiting for the next term to start, I worked in a warehouse loading large appliances into trucks, the night shift for double pay.
In those days, the cost of sending a telegram was calculated by the number of words it contained. If a word was longer than five letters, you paid extra. About three months later, I received a three-word telegram from my brother: “UOFT ACCPT YOU”. Overjoyed, I packed my luggage and two days later, on Friday, July 2, 1971, I flew to Toronto.
Surrounded in Peace, second year engineering in Toronto (1973)
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yuksel hassan3 years ago
Loved reading this story which I partly knew. I fondly remember that Sibbald Point camping in that very cold spring. It was a new experience for all of us Cemil. All of us had shivered all night long.