My name is Mehmed Ali Tosun
My name is Mehmed Ali Tosun
My name is Mehmed Ali Tosun.
In the year of 1987, I was born in the village of Gülyazý which shares the same fate with Roboski. I am the second one of eleven siblings.
Starting the life with eleven siblings means at least eleven hopes. It means there are ten other people to cover up your absence. For example, it means to pass the flag on the next one instead of being sorry for your not being able to go to school after high school. That is what I did…
Those who know me as introverted were unaware of the river inside me. I used to rise inside, but without any ebullition outwards.
I happened to go to Cyprus when the state, which has never knocked at our door when we were in dire straits, one day knocked our door to serve notice on me for my national service…
Easier said than done, I didn’t see the snow and sun of Gülyazý, neither my mother nor siblings for eighteen months exactly…
Although my mother asked me several times to take a leave for several days and to visit her, I couldn’t ask poverty to have a break for three days and to end my longing… As I was intending to go either today or tomorrow, I finished the damn service before finding ticket money for eighteen months exactly…
The day came when our longing ended… We would have the power to overcome everything as long as we lived.
And this time my mother started to mention marriage for me. There was also the transportation expense of my sister to be paid… As I said, the village of Gülyazý shares the same fate with the village of Roboski. A new longing starts where longing ends in this territory. The thing we do, what you call smuggling, can only be made for several times a week. Will the money we get from there be enough for my marriage, or for the emptied floor sack in the cellar? What will the money it brings be spent for!?
I therewith took to the roads to Karbala. For months, I worked there in the hope that the sun would rise for us one day. After many months, they didn’t even pay me my money. I didn’t know until then that capitalism was the greatest boss in the city of Huseyin too…
Inevitably, I turned back to Gülyazý and “smuggling” from which I every time escaped by finding an excuse.
The known day came afterwards… On the phone, we spoke to my father who wasn’t home that day. My mothers were strongly telling me to not to go that day as my father wasn’t home. I know it is difficult to hurt a mother but the power of my despair made me hurt two mothers together… I promised them that this would be the last time. I at least kept my promise!
I went after Nevzat, Þêrvan and Osman and undertook my last journey that night.
Should you happen to ask me what I understood from this life, I can say that;
It is too hard to pass in your chips.
I have three matters harder than the other;
Separation,
Poverty
And death…
This may annoy you but I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didn’t kill the justice too…
Doesn’t everyone have the right to justice?
Or,
Should I apologize to the state because it has warted those huge, expensive bombs for killing me,
Should I thank the General Staff for not missing the target and for killing me!?
* Platform for Justice for Roboski publishes the life story of 34 people from the villages of Roboski and Gülyazý who were killed by bombs on 28 December, 2011. These stories which will be published for 34 days are also sent to the offices of President, Prime Minister, Ministry of Justice and Interior Ministry via fax and mail.
In the year of 1987, I was born in the village of Gülyazý which shares the same fate with Roboski. I am the second one of eleven siblings.
Starting the life with eleven siblings means at least eleven hopes. It means there are ten other people to cover up your absence. For example, it means to pass the flag on the next one instead of being sorry for your not being able to go to school after high school. That is what I did…
Those who know me as introverted were unaware of the river inside me. I used to rise inside, but without any ebullition outwards.
I happened to go to Cyprus when the state, which has never knocked at our door when we were in dire straits, one day knocked our door to serve notice on me for my national service…
Easier said than done, I didn’t see the snow and sun of Gülyazý, neither my mother nor siblings for eighteen months exactly…
Although my mother asked me several times to take a leave for several days and to visit her, I couldn’t ask poverty to have a break for three days and to end my longing… As I was intending to go either today or tomorrow, I finished the damn service before finding ticket money for eighteen months exactly…
The day came when our longing ended… We would have the power to overcome everything as long as we lived.
And this time my mother started to mention marriage for me. There was also the transportation expense of my sister to be paid… As I said, the village of Gülyazý shares the same fate with the village of Roboski. A new longing starts where longing ends in this territory. The thing we do, what you call smuggling, can only be made for several times a week. Will the money we get from there be enough for my marriage, or for the emptied floor sack in the cellar? What will the money it brings be spent for!?
I therewith took to the roads to Karbala. For months, I worked there in the hope that the sun would rise for us one day. After many months, they didn’t even pay me my money. I didn’t know until then that capitalism was the greatest boss in the city of Huseyin too…
Inevitably, I turned back to Gülyazý and “smuggling” from which I every time escaped by finding an excuse.
The known day came afterwards… On the phone, we spoke to my father who wasn’t home that day. My mothers were strongly telling me to not to go that day as my father wasn’t home. I know it is difficult to hurt a mother but the power of my despair made me hurt two mothers together… I promised them that this would be the last time. I at least kept my promise!
I went after Nevzat, Þêrvan and Osman and undertook my last journey that night.
Should you happen to ask me what I understood from this life, I can say that;
It is too hard to pass in your chips.
I have three matters harder than the other;
Separation,
Poverty
And death…
This may annoy you but I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didn’t kill the justice too…
Doesn’t everyone have the right to justice?
Or,
Should I apologize to the state because it has warted those huge, expensive bombs for killing me,
Should I thank the General Staff for not missing the target and for killing me!?
* Platform for Justice for Roboski publishes the life story of 34 people from the villages of Roboski and Gülyazý who were killed by bombs on 28 December, 2011. These stories which will be published for 34 days are also sent to the offices of President, Prime Minister, Ministry of Justice and Interior Ministry via fax and mail.
