\u201cProtest.\u201d The earnest girl stood on the steps outside Neslihan\u2019s front door. She had leaflets, a clipboard and a script. \u201cLook what the government is doing to your beautiful neighbourhood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Beautiful. Neslihan picked out this word. She lived on the steep slope below the S\u00fclemaniye Mosque. Her house was tall, wooden and precarious. Her street was narrow and potholed. Her neighbours’ houses were in even worse condition than hers. She nodded politely. It would be a pity to interrupt such passion.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe government wants to change forever the essential character of this area.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Essential character. It didn\u2019t have one. Above her loomed the stone wall protecting the trees of Istanbul University\u2019s faculty of Botany. Below were the metalworking shops that gave out a continuous banging during the day.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThey want to demolish all the lovely old houses and replace them with fake replicas. The new Metro is just an excuse for them to knock down the buildings without seeking permission.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n This was true. The area to the north was just about empty of people by now. They had been moved out to new houses in new suburbs in places that Neslihan had never heard of. The empty houses were falling down. They were occupied only by eskici<\/em>, the people who collected rubbish and sorted it out to sell. A few places were restored and made beautiful. Islands of mansions stood out in what looked like a war zone.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll show you a map. The Metro will go right through here.\u201d The girl pointed to a well-used piece of paper. \u201cHere\u2019s your house.\u201d Her finger traced a red line. \u201cThe new line to Aksaray passes right through here. Your house will have to be knocked down to make way.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan had thought this too. Turgut and G\u00fclfem down the hill had already been told. Their houses were going soon. They had been offered money or new flats in Alibeytepe or somewhere else in the parts of Istanbul that were so far away that they weren\u2019t Istanbul. She had seen the men in suits, walking from her neighbours\u2019 houses to the Mercedes Benz cars that would hardly fit into the streets. She had thought that it was better not to know. Then something made her ask. They consulted their little computers. They turned to each other. They shook their heads and smiled. They were like men who had spent all day needing not to smile.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDo you want to lose the place where you have always lived, where it is your right to live?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan could see the girl\u2019s point. She was sorry for her neighbours. She would be sorry to lose them. It wasn\u2019t right to make them go away. But there was nothing that anyone could do about it.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe have to protest. We\u2019re organising a flash mob in a pop-up venue.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan had no idea what the girl was saying. She seemed nice. She reminded her of her own daughter. Melis was someone in the art world now. Neslihan didn\u2019t know what that meant either.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnyway, my name\u2019s Duygu.\u201d The girl was holding a leaflet out. \u201cWe\u2019ll be in touch soon. We don\u2019t want to give out the details now because the authorities will find out.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Duygu looked lovely when she spoke that way. She was passionate. She believed in her role in something important. Neslihan could not remember ever having felt like that. She wanted to protect Duygu\u2019s fragile self-belief. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOf course, dear. I\u2019ll do what you want. You enjoy yourself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Duygu clattered down the steps and made her way to the next house.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan made herself a cup of tea and sat down. She liked her house. It had once been beautiful. When she and Nuri bought it, they had had dreams of living in the real Istanbul, of inhabiting the world photographed by Ara G\u00fcler and remembered in the rose tones of what was becoming known as Istalgia.<\/span><\/p>\n Nuri started making money and they moved out to Levent. Neslihan moved back when the new house and the flashy cars were repossessed. When Nuri\u2019s mistress had showed up, crying about being evicted. Nuri had done that begging act on his knees. Neslihan had viewed him as if he were a cheap soap opera. He had escaped somewhere overseas, trying to hold on to whatever that accountant had not managed to take. Because of his financial debacle, Neslihan was not allowed to leave Turkey. This did not bother her at all. Their old family lawyer had drawn up his documents well. Neslihan could keep the house.<\/span><\/p>\n What she couldn\u2019t do was maintain it properly. It was better than the rest of the houses in the area. Melis\u2019s well-dressed boyfriend Hakan would ask for a tour of the house every time he came around. A few days later, some tradesmen would turn up to do some minor repairs. The place needed painting now but there was no chance of that.<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan thought of the red line of the Metro cutting through her neighbourhood. She was struck with a desire to see her view. She put her tea down and walked to the staircase. Three floors and an attic. The attic had two triangular windows. One faced the stone wall of the Botanical Garden. From the other, she could see a cascade of roofs falling down to the Golden Horn. She couldn\u2019t quite see the water but she liked being able to see Galata Tower.<\/span><\/p>\n The view had changed over the years. New skyscrapers were always going up. There seemed to be three or four that hadn\u2019t been there last time she checked. She could see the tall buildings around Sishane, mostly expensive hotels. The new railway line was coming her way from there.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n The doorbell rang. Neslihan put the teapot back on the double boiler. Her tea could wait.<\/span><\/p>\n It was that girl again, Duygu. She was just as excited and alive as before.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGood morning\u2026\u201d Duygu checked her clipboard. \u201cNeslihan Hanim. I\u2019ve come to give you an update on our action against the government.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGood.\u201d Neslihan was pleased to see the girl again. \u201cWould you like a cup of tea?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, no.\u201d said the girl. \u201cI need to get round to all the houses on this list before\u2026\u201d She looked at her watch. \u201cYes, please. My feet are really hurting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cCome on.\u201d Neslihan led the way to her living room. She was normally embarrassed about this relic of the days when she and Nuri had been pretending to live in the time of S\u00fcleyman the Lawgiver. There was a big Van kilim on the squeaky parquetry. Neslihan indicated a divan next to a round, copper table. \u201cSit down there, Duygu. The tea\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou remembered my name,\u201d said the girl. \u201cNobody else does.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOf course I did.\u201d Neslihan moved into the kitchen and raised her voice. \u201cYou remind me of my daughter. She\u2019s the same age as you. Neslihan realised as she said this that she was wrong. Melis was years older. It was just that she remembered her as the age just before she left home. \u201cMaybe a little older.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI love the way you\u2019ve done this room,\u201d said Duygu. \u201cIt totally suits the house. You must feel really strongly about having to leave and going somewhere soulless.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d said Neslihan vaguely. She put two glasses of tea onto the copper table. \u201cI\u2019ll just get some kurabiye<\/em>.\u201d She went back into the kitchen. Are all the houses on this street going to be knocked down?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI think so\u2026\u201d Neslihan put a plate of pastries on the table. Duygu was searching the room for something. Sugar. It must be sugar. Since she had lived alone, Neslihan had found that she didn\u2019t need sugar any more.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll just get that, dear.\u201d The dear<\/em> seemed so natural, the same as it had when Melis had been younger. Neslihan put the sugar and a spoon down beside Duygu\u2019s tea. \u201cHow many houses do you have to go to today?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Duygu held up her clipboard. There was a computer printout of an aerial photo. Each house was marked with a dot and a number. \u201cHundreds of them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnd it\u2019s important that you do them all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes. We need everyone involved. If we don\u2019t have solidarity, we won\u2019t be able to show the government how strongly the entire community feels.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDo you think it will make a difference?\u201d asked Neslihan gently.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d Duygu\u2019s eyes were wide. \u201cLook at the Gezi Park protests. I was down south in Olympus when they were happening but everyone in the country knew about them. The government cracked down but international pressure made them leave it alone. They don\u2019t dare build their shopping centre now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan nodded but said nothing. Most of the people she knew had no sympathy for the protesters. It wasn\u2019t right for people to shout rude things at the Prime Minister. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThey say this is a democracy but it\u2019s only the power of the people that will ever make this government act democratically.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Democracy. Had Turkey ever been a democracy? When Neslihan was growing up, the illusion of democracy was only protected by the threat of a military coup if anything out of the ordinary happened.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d said Neslihan. \u201cPut your feet up on the divan. Please be comfortable.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n There were rumbling sounds at night now. They probably happened all the time but Neslihan only noticed them when she was in bed. It must be that Metro line tunnelling underneath her. She thought she felt the ground shaking but it was probably her imagination.<\/span><\/p>\n The sounds she heard in the daytime were of houses being knocked over. Big, yellow machines swaggered up her street in the morning. After a day of crashing noises, they would return in the evening like conquerors. People stopped talking and watched them pass. Some of the boys threw stones.<\/span><\/p>\n One day, Neslihan opened her front door to find a big sheet of metal in front of Remzi Bey\u2019s house on the other side of the street. She recalled Remzi Bey saying that he would be moving out to Bahcelievler. When Neslihan returned with her bread and copy of H\u00fcrriyet<\/em>, the yellow machines had begun their work.<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan opened the curtains in her bedroom and moved her chair to the window. This was real entertainment. It was amazing how easily Remzi Bey\u2019s house came apart. It had always looked like nothing more than a loosely attached collection of planks. The yellow machines just pushed them apart and let them clatter onto the ground.<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan made herself some more tea and returned to her viewing. The front of the house was off. The place where Remzi Bey once carried out the events of his life was now like a doll\u2019s house. All the rooms were exposed. She hadn\u2019t known how horrible the wallpaper in the bedroom had been. The doorbell rang.<\/span><\/p>\n It was Duygu, the girl who believed in her cause. \u201cNeslihan Hanim, It\u2019s awful! They\u2019re destroying that wonderful house. It must have been your view for a lifetime. It\u2019s as if they\u2019re smashing up all your memories.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d She hadn\u2019t lived there all that long. She and Nuri had bought it twenty years ago but she had only moved back recently. She decided not to tell Duygu this. \u201cI can\u2019t believe it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve come to tell you what we\u2019re organising,\u201d said the girl. \u201cIf you\u2019re too upset, I can come back later.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d Neslihan could see the yellow machines changing position for a new assault. The front door did not provide the best viewing angle. \u201cDo you want to see how they demolish the houses? It\u2019s very interesting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cInteresting?\u201d Duygu frowned and turned to the wreckage across the street. \u201cI suppose it is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI have a very good view from one of the upstairs rooms,\u201d said Neslihan. \u201cI\u2019ve just made some tea.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d Duygu smiled. \u201cThat would be lovely. The hills around here are very tiring.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The window was exactly the right size for two wicker armchairs with a coffee table between them. Neslihan put two glasses of tea on the table. Both women leaned forward to see what the yellow machines would do next.<\/span><\/p>\n One machine extended an arm high in the air. The top of the arm began to approach the upper level of Remzi Bey\u2019s house. It made contact and pushed. The house began to tremble.<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan gasped. A whole new view appeared. She could see the entire shore across the water. It was all there: Galata Tower, the new skyscrapers, the big hotels, all laid out before her. She tried to take it all in.<\/span><\/p>\n Neslihan was aware of a movement on her arm. It was Duygu shaking her. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s all gone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n
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