[translated by tuğçe ayteş]
LALELI[1]
*
Hayriye Tüccari Street
Nisanca Bostani
Sahnameci
Tugrakes
Imrahor Hamami
Natir Kizi
Azimkâr
Havuzlu Hamam Street
Lalelim
Lalelide oturur
Laleli lale kokar lalelimden
Laleliden geçilir
Lalelimden geçilmez [2]
(My laleli
lives in Laleli
Laleli smells lale through my laleli
You can walk away from Laleli
But you cannot walk away from my laleli)
The night has come, the rain has just subsided; an attractive, brown haired, slim and tall woman passes by the fairly desolated streets of Laleli with their blackened shop windows, her name’s Lila, Turks call her Leyla…
Morning bargains are over, now it’s time for night bargains…
Ludmilla, Mariya, Natalya, Tatyana in the streets,
on the shop windows long legged, wasp waisted, round breasted models,
stylish with trendy clothes, appetizing when left naked…
Olga, Vera, Tanya, Katya in the hotel rooms,
shop windows showy,
multifarious, varicoloured shorts, capris, bermuda shorts, skirts trousers dresses jackets displayed on showy shop windows.
Laleli’s altogether trade, everything is trade in Laleli.
Lila Leyla returns to the hotel,
to her room, to her loneliness…
for how many nights she opened a bottle of Russian vodka, one of the cheapest,
she puts two glasses on the table, as if there were someone else than her, she sits, she proposes a toast, c’mon, says she, let’s drink.
She’s alone though, there’s nobody else in the room than her.
Hotels hotels hotels in Laleli. Break ups, coming together, escapes, rendezvous, money counting… Some are ostentatious, some are four-star. Customers are Roman, Russian, Azerbaijani, Georgian, Ukranian. Wholesaler, retailer or suitcase trade…
However the goods are breaking away to the West, China is taking the customers in, Russians are blocking the shipments time to time, and the money is running short… Once in a while shrieking news in the press: Laleli is down in the mouth! Why is it so? Come on, questioning all over with a delayed self-criticism… What have we done that this happened in the end?
We were the best to bambozle, we had the trade with the biggest bag of lies. Moreover, haven’t we labelled every Russian woman as Natashas?
These are sayings that have become the subject of gossiping. But nothing has changed at the Laleli front! The cash flow has stopped, the currency is dropping, sixty percent of the cheques are dud, the crisis is going on and on.
The night has come, loneliness is deep.
Lili Leyla is mumbling a song in Russian, maybe “Oçiçorniya”. Then she smiles at the blankness,
“C’mon, let’s drink!”
“…………………………”
“Didn’t you love me even a little?
“…………………………”
“Do you know I loved you so much?”
“…………………………”
“Even if you say, aren’t you Russians, girl, bitchiness has penetrated to your bones, all of you are whores…”
“…………………………”
“Even if you go back to your wife in spite of me…”
“…………………………”
“I loved you so much. C’mon naszdrovya!”
Lili Leyla always drinks till midnights like this.
Istanbul has already seduced her, hazy smoky Istanbul.
Some guy, salesman at Laleli, gone through the mill, someone like that. Gradually he left every other man out in Lila’s life, then exploited her and then went back to his wife. Is this the way?
Every time she’s dumped, Lila Leyla misses Moscow, her childhood, the communism, walking on the snow… It doesn’t snow much in Istanbul…
The famous stores of Laleli with their stylish, big shop windows… Russians love to dress in an exaggerated, sexy and pompous way. Leopard patterns are the favourite. That the European Union has abolished the quotas applied on Chinese textile, threatens fifteen percent of the eight billion dollar exportation of Turkish suppliers. Remedy seeking designers settle in Moscow and introduce Mevlana [Rumi] to Russians in “Modda 4 You” fair.
Nazdrovya!
She stands all day, Lili Leyla tries to make sale for other Russians,
as soon as she comes back on the evening, even when she’s tired to death, first she fixes herself up, then she sets the table in her most immodest dress, she looks at the picture of the guy all night long, she says let’s drink and drinks.
The guy went back to his wife, it cannot be helped.
Are you crying Lili Leyla? Come on, you’ll feel better if you cry. Man is always a man wherever he is. Wasn’t your husband the same, wasn’t he ruthless like him? Older Russians were so called different, Natalya, her grandmother must be confusing them with fiction heroes. For instance, her grandfather, she remembered vaguely, one of the virtuous officers with glorified epaulettes, old Andrey, keen and active, kind, handsome, then Natalya’s husband, a good lover, a brave man Mihail… Nowadays Russian guys drink and drink vodkas and zonk out in a corner, women are already taking care of the houses.
In rows of stores under the Laleli Mosque, the deals are severe and fast. Beautiful women have besieged the streets. Byzantium-style Bodrum Mosque is lost in backstreets; a cistern which remained from the Ottomans is converted into an inn. Furthermore… In Laleli…
What matters is hot money.
A little vodka was left at the bottom of the bottle,
Lili Leyla lets her make up run, her mascara mix up in her tears.
“Let’s drink, c’mon.”
The sounds of bangs and flytes outside…
“I know you’re going to be delirious about me…”
Suddenly some people… maybe drunkards… the silence of the hotel being corrupted.
“You’ll remember me in the arms of your wife.”
Are they having a fight or what?.. The scream of a woman… Then begging in Russian, curses in Turkish…
“Every night you’re going to make love not with her, but with me.”
Lila Leyla stands up and goes to the window, the wind hits the windows roughly, the noises are getting further gradually, Laleli streets are sinking in the deserted, quiet darkness at this hour of the day.
Lili Leyla to the darkness, untearableness of the passion.
Her head spins, an ache on the back of her head, she throws herself into the bed, the bed is cold as ice, the bed chills. As her eyelids are closing slowly, Lili Leyla is making love with herself.
So many trousers, blouses, dresses, skirts, jackets on the stands are waiting to be sold.
So many delayed hopes in this desperation age.
No lales in Laleli. Laleli is so devoid of lales.
[1] Laleli is a district of İstanbul. It means “with tulips”. “Lale” is “tulip”.
[2] An Orhan Murat Ariburnu poem.
