Anecdotes

Gecenlerde sireli Armine Cileli demisti ki : “siz de kendi mezuniyet senelerinize yakin kisilerle hatiralarinizi paylasin, emin olun, cok hos birsey. Eskiler geri geliyor, o gunleri yasiyorsunuz.”1971 mezunu, sinif arkadasim Raffi Codilian kendi grubumuza hatiralarini bolum bolum aktarmisti, uzun zaman once sinif grubumuzda yayinladiktan sonra Raffi’nin izniyle burda da paylasiyorum, ceviri gerekirse lutfen haber verin, cevirisini yaparim, Ani Z

Garo Atan and the bell

It should have been 1966; second year of kindergarten at Nor Tbrots. In the kindergarten our teacher was Mrs. Makruhi. A wonderful, very patient, friendly, calm, and elegant lady. To control the class she had two major tools … when someone behaved well, she gave him/her the permission to ring the small bell which was at the front of the class. But if a student, mostly boys ( and I must admit here that that was mostly me), behaved badly, such as getting involved in fighting or screaming, then the teacher used to send the culprit to the little enclosure behind the three panel folding door. After folding the door to open the kindergarten from the school hall, a triangular shaped space was generated in which I had spent countless hours…Garo Atan had joined us from a school on the Anatolian side…maybe from Uskudar area… (we got to confirm that). He was a giant. A fantastic person, a great friend, very strong and quiet…well… most of the time. The first few days he seemed sad…and lonely…then the teacher wanted to cheer him up and told him that he could ring the bell. Now let me explain something here, at NT we did not have an electronic sound system indicating the end of the class period. At the entrance, under the wooden stairs, in the corner, there hang a large heavy bell. About a foot tall…the teachers used to check their watches and used to go and ring the bell. There was no precision of time keeping in this system…but, within a few minutes of actual times the class used to end…the school had managed operating for decades with this system. When Mrs. Makruhi had wanted Garo to ring the bell, she had no idea the panic and havoc her well intentions would have caused! The school was just in the middle of a class period…and only a fire alarm would have caused such persistent ringing…So, my dear friend went and grabbed the metal pipe and started ringing the main bell of the school with great enthusiasm. The whole school, in panic ran out of classrooms, and in bewilderment we watched , my good old friend ringing the bell and smiling. On and on he kept going. Garo was a happy boy that day!
Raffi C., August 18th 2012

Covered in Blood

In kindergarten, our teacher, Mrs Makruhi used to organize competitive games for us. The one that I really enjoyed resembled a bowling game. It was played with a wooden ball rolled across the ground to knock down as many pins as possible…we, specially the boys liked the competitive games. Since soccer was forbidden to be played in the school grounds other activities filled its place. Mr. Hintliyan, the founder of the school, had a big disliking towards soccer and apparently he had been a firm believer that playing soccer at a younger age will damage the knees and leg muscles. He was able to engrave his belief in every teacher’s mind. Later on, when I attended high school I could not compete with others in soccer since I had not developed the basic skills. Therefore, I had to take up running and playing chess…

On that dreadful winter day in 1967, it was raining. Istanbul in the winters used to have this grey, dark, melancholic whether which I have never encountered anywhere else in the world. The air used to smell sulfur and carbon. Rain seemed never stopping, and an occasional lightning with an explosive thunder added to the final touches of a scary atmosphere.

That day, students walking in with their wet shoes had accumulated puddles of water on the wooden flooring of the main hall. Mrs Makruhi lined us up against the small tables and chairs where we all used to sit. It was going to be a race. She told us that there would be no running. Students would race to the window located at the opposite wall overlooking the garden, touch it and then walk back as fast as they can. And again, she reminded us there would be no running. To make the race more interesting Mrs. Makruhi wanted us to place a square wooden block on our left shoe. Since winning was everything for us we all tried to bend the rules to give us an edge. Majority of us, including me tried to burry the wooden block in our shoe. Finally,the race started. After touching the window, on the way back, Mateos and I were at the front of the pack. Then we started to elbow each other. During the last 10 meters, our fast walk gave way to a throttle and then we broke into a run. I had almost won the race when I tangled with Mateos and fell head long towards the chairs and desks in front of us.…

The pain on my temple was not too bad but within seconds my face was covered with blood. Blood was gushing out from a long and deep cut 3-4 cm long. It was everywhere. My uniform was covered with it. The wound was right under my eyebrow. The sharp corner of the desk had missed my eye by a few millimeters. There was a pandemonium in the school. Mr. Sirri got into action. He was the driver of the school. After every school day many kids used to pile up in his old blue car like sardines to be dropped to their houses. He picked me up and ran to his car.

When my mother opened the door, as she told me later on, saw my face covered all in blood and apparently when she had just thought that I was dead I had opened my eyes and had grinned to her. According to her, that grin almost made her to pass out. She did not have time to change for street clothes, neither time to change from her old slippers into shoes. Mr. Sirri drove us to Erez Clinic where my father used to practice and deliver babies. During these years, in Istanbul local anesthesia was not commonly practiced. They took me to the surgery room and told me that it may hurt, but I have to prove that I am man. I grabbed the arms of the hospital chair and squeezed my eyes shut. They put 3 wide metal staples across my eyebrow and the scar of this wound still can be seen to this day! That hurt a lot, tears were dropping out of my eyes. But, I did not make a sound. Then, all of a sudden the ordeal was over. “Aferin- good job” said the doctor, “You are a man!”

Raffi C. , Aug 21st 2012