Mustafa grew up in a government apartment complex. His parents were civil servants, and his friends were the children of civil servants. He lived in a sterile environment, with controlled access and few threats or dangers. He had three friends: Ezgi, Betül, and Süleyman. He also had a brother, Ömer, who was four years younger than him. Ömer did not live with them; his grandmother took care of him in their hometown. They only saw each other once a year, during the summer. As an apartment kid, Mustafa had people who took care of all his needs and ran errands for him. All he had to do was ask, and it was done. He didn’t have many friends, but that didn’t matter. After all, he had plenty of opportunities, plenty of toys, and plenty of everything. He had his own room, desk, and bookshelf. At school, he was not bad, slightly above average, a student who could be called average.
He went to school by car, and someone always picked him up and dropped him off. His life was not ordinary, but he was not aware of it. He had no expectations of anyone, nor did anyone have expectations of him… Was he happy? Not really, but he was not unhappy either. If you asked him, “How’s life going, Mustafa?” he would just say, “Fine,” and move on. We’re not talking about ancient times. Just the 80s. You know, the days when the power would go out during the day and you’d try to study by gaslight… Times of deprivation, but also times when happiness was easy to find… Times when almost no one had more than anyone else… Times when you could ask your neighbors for what you didn’t have…
Mustafa was a young boy, 12 years old, with better opportunities than many others. But the feeling that something was missing was painful, and his distress grew each day. Sometimes he would cry, or suddenly burst into laughter. He was only 12, but his reactions had no middle ground. He had never lost anything in his life, so he had never gained anything either. How could he know how to take or give? He wasn’t on the street to learn how to share. He was alone at home, alone at school, a child who didn’t talk to anyone or couldn’t talk to anyone.
Did he have a problem? Of course he did…
His mother and father! Despite all the opportunities, the never-ending arguments between his parents, and of course, the question of who was right… Above all else, Mustafa’s life was dedicated to finding out who was right. Almost every argument ended with the question: “Mustafa, who is right?” What could he do now? One was his father, the other his mother! How could he choose who was right when everything in his life had been chosen for him by others? As we said, his problem was big: “his mother and father.”
Some time later, his parents separated, and Mustafa stayed with his mother. When his father left the house, his brother also came to live with them. His mother moved out of the dormitory because she wanted to be closer to her relatives. Mustafa, who had grown up with good opportunities, now had to create his own opportunities. They began the struggle to establish themselves in a small town. At that time, the fact that the woman was divorced was an additional pressure, and constantly hearing about it from others was another source of pressure for Mustafa. Life took his family away from him first, then his father. Shortly after the divorce, his father passed away. He hadn’t been a very good father while he was alive, but his absence weighed heavily on Mustafa. His absence would always be felt. Just as he was entering adolescence and needed his father, he was no longer there.
The struggle he entered into with a child’s mind, financial problems, social pressures, the feeling of being trapped on one side and the problem of establishing a new environment on the other… The fear of being alone and the first success in earning money… His uncle placed him as an apprentice with a painter. Whereas before there had been empty canvases and paints sitting idle in his room, now Mustafa had real houses and walls to paint. When he received his first paycheck, he immediately gave it to his mother. As he worked and earned more, he continued to give it to her. Now he was earning money, bringing bread home, becoming a man.
It was such a place that children had a work life that began when school was out. In that town, some worked as apprentices at the barber shop, some at the carpenter’s, some at the painter’s, and some at the tile shop. It was considered normal for children to work there. Mothers sent their sons to work with their fathers, and in the evening, father and son returned home together from work. Girls learned household chores from their mothers, made handcrafted items, and even sold the beautiful ones to earn money. Everyone shared a common struggle, and everyone supported one another.
Mustafa had not seen such a lifestyle for 12 years, but he was finally growing up. There was no family, no father, but there was now a mature Mustafa. He grew up quickly, even faster than children with fathers. He took on work, earned money, and supported his family with what he earned. He married at an age that others considered too young.
What is Mustafa doing now? Years later, he is trying to pay back his debt to life by raising people. Perhaps it’s a bit challenging…