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PART TWELVE
Some of the Circassian refugee groups had been involved in incidents of
theft and robbery during the early years of the migration of 1864 and 1865,
out of misery and starvation. They had not suffice with pillaging
the Bulgar villages. They had also penetrated into Romania and Serbia
to take plunder.
The lawlessness at that time had caused serious problems. The Governor,
the County Officers and the law and order enforcement forces had been helpless.
At the same time the Central Government had been rendered target of complaints
by the Principality of Romania, Russia, and other European Big Powers.
The Circassian Refugees issue had been at top of the agenda in diplomatic
relations.
The Government, among other measures, had decided to disarm the Circassians,
and prohibited them to carry fire-arm. The law and order agencies
raided the Circassian villages and camps in search for fire-arms.
The Circassian refugees, being the remnants of a century long war, could
not an easy be divest of their weapons.
In the process many undesirable incidents took place. Most of the Circassians
buried their weapons, to dig them out and use when the time came.
The Bulgarian rebellion had served the Circassians as a golden opportunity
to rearm. In many instances the Circassian refugee had applied for
being registered as a volunteer fighter, just to acquire a fire-arm
or to live again his old hectic life.
The fire-arms prohibition law was re-enforced in the aftermath of
the suppression of the Bulgarian rebellion.
To be without a weapon did not make a sense to the Adiğe. The Gendarme
task-force, assigned to collect the weapons, were held up outside the villages.
Tragic incidents were averted at places where the Thametes intervened.
At the Pazarcik County and in the neighborhood, however, disarming the
Circassians could not be managed so easily. They protested the alleged
harsh treatment by the Gendarme, and took to the mountains. The tension
escalated when the military units in Filibe and Sofia were deployed against
them.
At one stage the Circassian revolt appeared likely to spread all over the
land. Unrest was experienced in the northern regions as well.
Thanks to the intervention of the Adiğe Hases1
that the Circassians were saved from being the victims of yet another great
tragedy.
Elders of the Circassian refugee villages in the neighborhood of Pazarcik
got together in the Country center. They called on the County Officer
and the Garrison Commander; apologized for the undesirable incidents, and
sought permission to appease the rebellious Circassian groups.
There were officers of Caucasian origin in the army, though a few in number.
They also supported the Thametes, and accompanied them to negotiate a surrender
of the rebellious Circassians.
The rebel Circassians belonged to the younger generation, mostly under
the age of thirty. They had chosen the Rodop mountains as their sanctuary,
and pillaged the Turkish and Bulgar villages in the neighborhood at night
time. They were victims of their own vanity and daringness.
They lived a very wretched life in destitute, though.
The oldest of the Thametes, who had undertaken to persuade them to surrender,
was one named Alceruk. As the group began ascending the mountain,
Alceruk dismounted his horse, spread his yamça2
on the ground, and sat over it, and declared,
- I am not going to those dogs. You tell them to come to me!
The watchmen of the rebels had spotted the Thametes at halt. After
a while a few of the rebels ascended in batches of four to five,
lined up in front of Alceruk and the other elders, and bowed their heads
down with the feeling of guilt.
Alceruk kept quiet for a while. He gazed at the rebel gang leaders
one by one, and said,
- Aren’t you ashamed of what you have done? You have raised
against the Sultan who provided you with bread and shelter. And more;
you have attacked his soldiers, and have condemned all of us to the worst
kind of shamefulness.
He paused, gazed at the young men, and went on speaking:
- We have come to this land to be free from the tyranny of the Czar.
Tell me where you should go to live from now on; because you say you don’t
like the land of the Caliph of Islam?
The old man painfully smiled, and continued,
- In fact you don’t know what you should
do; isn’t it so? Pack up before fooling around any more. We are going
home all together right away.
The rebel gang leaders did not respond. In ones and twos they mounted
their horses and rode fast into the forest, and disappeared.
One of the Thametes turned to Alceruk. He asked,
- Do you think they would be coming back?
The old man gravely nodded in assent, and added,
- If they are Adiğes, they would take the elder’s advise.
Alceruk was right. About two hours later, the mountains resounded
with the sound of rifle fire. Then there appeared the rebel Circassians;
the riders first, followed by the ones on foot. In no time five-hundred
young men lined up in front of the Thametes, forming a semicircle.
Alcerul got up, and mounted his horse. He spurred the animal.
Others followed him.
It was sunset when they hit the road. They rode the whole night.
By dawn the party entered the County.
The rebellious young Circassians tossed off their weapons at the courtyard
of the Garrison, and quietly dispersed.
No one asked them any questions, or challenged their departure.
Certain incidents of violence had occurred also in Serbia in the neighborhood
of Priştina and Prizyen Counties. But those had been
due to different reasons, mainly because of proprietorship disputes,
superimposed on the existing tension.
O0O
During the Bulgarian Rebellion, Basti Osman had been overwhelmed with a
profound anxiety, which he did not disclose to anyone. He was afriad
that the Adiğes had been involved in the issue more than they should
have done. They had played the role of the principal actors in a play they
were ignorant of its intricacies, he believed. The losses they would
stand to sustain in the event of a shift in the balance of forces in the
area had not occurred to them.
Notwithstanding the fact that he had acted with at most restraint, he had
personally been badly hit by the Bulgarian rebellion. Beside other loss
of so many Adiğe life, he had lost his son, his son-in-law and a close
friend.
The Bulgarian rebellion had left such deep scares in him. Restoration
of peace lent him a little respite. Indeed his community had sacrificed
a few lives; and in return had proved their loyalty to the established
order of the State. Thus they had manifested their intrinsic value
in the sixth year of their arrival in the Ottoman domain. He was proud
of
it.
Though some of his compatriots had committed certain accesses, had been
involved in certain undesirable activities, and had earned undeserved
ill reputation to the bulk of the Adiğe refugee community; the injury caused
by the former had been offset by virtue of the consistent and principled
behavior of the majority.
Yeftale Hamiz had taken active part in the suppression of the Bulgarian
rebellion. He had strongly protested Osman’s attempt to restrain
him. He had braced the responsibility of the death of his own son
and his nephew. Upon restoration of peace, like Osman, he too assumed
quiescence. He began asking by himself whether they had done the
right thing.
By their nature, the women could not afford to gloss over the immediate
past so conveniently as their men did. It took a long time
before Osman’s wife, Skurun; and Hamız’s wife, Hanses, could resume smiling.
They mourned and wailed for months for their beloved sons. The whole
district effected by the pain the two ladies sustained in their hearts.
Osman’s daughter, Sas, had married without the concent of her parents.
Her collaboration in being kidnapped by Hun Sefer had cost the affection
of her own family to a certain extent.
Kidnapping of a girl for marriage was customary in the Adiğe society. There
was nothing wrong in it provided the girl concented, and the normal rules
of tradition were observed. Nevertheless the young girl, in such
an instance, was doomed to be ashamed before her parents for the rest of
her life.
Sas had been a victim of a similar situation. Though her parents
had been offended, soon they were solaced and appeased by the intermediaries,
according to the rules of tradition. They had approved their daughter’s
marriage, though they did not attend the wedding.
Sas had an attack of depressive mania when she lost her husband, immediately
after their marriage and before she could overcome the wounds of being
kidnapped.
At the beginning no one took her sickness seriously. They thought
it was normal for a young briefed wife. “Sas mourns for her husband!”,
they said.
Her sorrow had brought a serious ailment with it. She was bedridden.
Her mother assessed her condition right. She realized that her daughter
had been in grip with the serious ailment of some kind; and that she needed
to be cheered up, and that could be done best in her own home and by her
own parents.
Skurun asked her husband’s permission to move Sase to their house.
Osman opposed the idea, for it was against traditions. Osman, a diehard
Adiğe traditionist, did not care for his wife’s entreaties. He curtly
responded,
- Sas was the bride of the Huns. Now she is their daughter.
We shouldn’t do anything that would injure their pride.
Sas died on one snowy day in the middle of the winder. Not only her
relatives, but also all the residents of Bastihabl wailed for her.
The loss of Sas doubled Skurun’s distress. She lost her voice due
to too much crying. She was taken ill, She remained confined to her
house for the rest of the winter.
Osman became an introvert person all together. He was in deep silence.
He rarely spoke. He looked with blank eyes at those who came to him
to offer their condolence, responded them by the moment of his hand and
by murmuring unintelligible words. At best he would say, “It was
by Providence. We have to resign to the will of Go”.
He felt a little guilty conscious though for having rejected his wife’s
suggestion to bring Sas back home.
O0O
Nothing could withstand the time. The phases of time worked in combination
with other natural factors. The mountains eroded, the river beds
silted, the sorrow in ones heart washed away, and the painful memories
in ones mind were forgotten by time.
So it happened to Osman and Skurun. As the weather warmed up,
and the mountains and plains turned green; the couple gradually overcame
their grief, and were relieved of their self-imposed seclusion.
In the meantime, however, deep creases had appeared on their faces.
The noodles in between their eyebrows were slow to disappear. The
lack of vigor in their movement and behavior, reflected the distress they
had suffered.
Notwithstanding all those adversities, the desire to exist, the love for
life overwhelmed them once again. They avoided remembering the events
of a year or six month before. To contemplate about the future,
lent them vitality.
Osman did not, however, stop reviewing the Bulgarian rebellion in
retrospect, even during the last winter when he had been mouning over his
daughter’s death. He had wished to find out the impact of those tumultuous
events on the psyche of the people in the neighborhood. The mental
depression and severe winter cold had pinned him down at home.
In the middle of April, however, he made up his mind to visit Tırnova.
He consulted his colleagues.
Yeftale Hamız gave up the cool attitude he had adopted towards Basti Osman.
Though himself the eldest member of the district by age, out of reverence
to Basti Osman, he replied, “Thamete3
, you know it better”.
They were sitting in the guest house at the far end of the courtyard.
Osman sadly smiled at his brother-in-law’s reply, which carried a
slight tinge of sarcasm. He left it at that, and got up. All together
they went to the mosque.
It was a pleasant afternoon. The had a stroll in the field in the
company of the ones with a say in the affairs of the village. The
discussed the proposed visit to the County.
Two days later they formed a group, which also included Hun Gazi, Somen
Haşi, Hahurat Ketiğej and Nahu Netaf, set out for Tırnova.
A creek, tributary of the Yantra Stream, flowing in the south to
east direction, passed through Tirnova. In the spring season it was
fast and torrential. It slowed down though when it reached the plains,
where it joined Yantra.
There were Turkish and Bulgar villages on either side of the creek.
The people were busy on the fields, some grazing their animals and some
preparing for corn cultivation.
Osman sensed that the Bulgarians they came across on their way did not
look friendly. The women turned their back, while the men looked
obliquely at them. As Osman and his colleagues waved their hands
greeting them, they ignored them.
Tırnova was peaceful. The people and the shopkeepers were busy in
their daily routine. No one seemed interested to talk about the event
the year before.
Only Kara Ahmet, the horseshoe maker, offered relatively warm welcome to
Osman and his party. He stated that the Bulgar residents of the town
behaved differently than before, that they seemed hurt.
Kara Ahmet observed, “I am afraid the situation is not good at all.” He
looked around as if some conspiracy was going on or that he was going to
confide a secret. He said,
- In the event of a pull out by the Ottoman forces in here, our very
existence would be in danger. No Muslim, be he a Turk or a Circassian,
would have no chance of survival here any more. I know this people
very well. They are very rancorous. No one can remove the ill-will
that would find its way into their heart.
He paused for a moment, raised his hand as if in supplication,
-I pray God my save us from any further incidents that would spoil our
peace of mind.
Osman and his friends stayed in Tırnova for two nights. After finishing
with their shopping and other business, they set out for Bastihabl.
Osman was perturbed by what he had observed on the way to Tırnova and what
he was told by the people in the County. He was born and had grown
up in wartime. He had taken refuge in the domain of the Sultan seeking
peace and tranquillity. Identical problems and sufferings in different
forms and dimensions were bothering him here again. He considered
that a visit to a few of the Turkish and Bulgar villages on the plains
on either side of the Yantra Stream would be helpful in more accurately
gauging the trend.
The terrain in the Yantra Valley slopped down towards the north.
There were two villages at the point where the stream entered the plains.
The one on the right bank was inhabited by the Bulgars, while the one to
the left belonged to the Turks.
Further to the north the number of villages increased in rapid succession,
a fact which was evident by the number of bell towers and minarets,
which indicated the religious identity of the inhabitants.
Osman had made acquaintances in the Turkish and Bulgar villages nearest
to Bastihabl. The former village was called Akıncılar, and the latter
Kilise.
“Kilise” was not the original name of the Bulgar village. The Turks
in the neighborhood called it Kilise4
, with reference to the village Church. In due course of time the
inhabitants of the village also adopted the same name; for they took pride
in the high tower of their Church.
This time Osman had fewer companions with him, none else than Yeftale Hamız,
Hun Gazi and Sülemiş the Tatar.
On such trips Osman invariably used to have Sülemiş with him; because he
served as his interpreter in Bulgar, and also looked after his horse at
stopovers.
The most prominent and crowded family of the Akıncılar village was the
Hocalar, who had provided many Turkish villages in the area with clerics
and imams, in the past. The present preoccupation of the family was
farming.
The head of the family was Hacı Ismail. He was a fattish and
bright faced person. He always carried a ninety-nine beads rosary,
his lips quivered incessantly, suggesting he constantly recited something.
He never sat long enough anywhere. He strolled in the field and roamed
about in the village. He was addicted to inspect his sons and grandsons
at work.
Osman dismounted as he approached the nearest buildings of the village,
in compliance with the Adiğe tradition. His companions
followed him. The entered the village, and proceeded towards the
residence of Hacı Ismail.
It was late in the afternoon when Osman entered the courtyard of Hacı Ismail,
who was sitting in the upper floor of his house with two of his sons.
He raised himself over the knees to look out to see who was coming in.
“Look! The Circassians are coming”, he announced, and went on,
- I admire this people! They always dismount while entering
the village. Our own people do not mind disturbing the whole place
with the noise of the horseshoes.
Hacı Ismails sons rushed down to the courtyard. While one took over
the horses, the other ushered the visitors upstairs, to be received by
his father.
Haci welcomed Osman and the rest of the party very warmly. He said
that he was at a loss as how to express his pleasure over their visit.
He inquired the visitors individually how they were.
The sun had set. It was time for the evening prayer. The host
and the visitors offered the prayer together.
Hacı Ismail, in the meantime invited a few of the village elders and relatives
to meet the visitors. All of them had dinner together.
While chatting after the dinner, at one stage the Bulgarian rebellion was
broached. Osman mentioned his worries. He said,
- As you may remember, both the civilian Turks and the Circassian
refugees had been involved in quelling the insurgency. As far as
I have noticed, we people have become the main target of the enmity of
the Bulgars. The Bulgars hate us.
Osman continued after a pause.
- Our ancestors, for four generations, fought against the Russians.
Our own generation lost the war, and we have been exiled from our homeland.
This time we have come face to face with enmity of the Bulgars. What
an inexplicable destiny!
Hacı Ismail had been counting his rosary beads all that time. He raised
his head when Osman finished speaking. He said,
- Religion is a more important factor than the race is. You have
come to this land very recently. Nevertheless have been fussed together
in such a short time. We communicated through gesticulation in case
the language was the barrier. On the other hand, we have been living
together with the Bulgars for four-hundred years. Nevertheless we
could never be friendly with them. This was because of the difference
in religion!
He looked at Osman, and repeated, “Indeed it was due to the difference
in faith”, and continued,
- In Kilise there is an old man called Pamel. He is at least
one-hundred years old. Perhaps you know him and his son Anton.
During your last visit here we had talked about them; do you remember?
“Yes, I remember”, Osman replied.
Hacı continued;
- Pamel was a friend of my father. I am in speaking terms with
his son. Pamel converted to Islam three times, and each time he reverted;
because the priests didn’t let him alone.
Hacı Ismail narrated at length how the priest had abused the religious
tolerance of the Turks, how laymen, in the guise of clergymen, had come
from Romania and Russia, had been roaming in the Bulgarian villages.
Hacı Ismail asked Osman, “Do you know what for?” He answered the question
himself:
- They were sowing the seeds of discard between the Muslims and Christians
of Bulgaria!
Osman and his companions spent the night at Hacı Ismail’s place.
He could not sleep. He kept pondering on what Hacı Ismail had
told him. He asked by himself, “ What would have happened if we had
stayed in Caucasia, and tried to co-exist with the Russians.” He compared
the Russians and the Bulgars, and tried to figure out if there were any
common characteristics between the two peoples. In the process he
went to sleep.
While departing Akıncılar at noon time, Osman told Hacı Ismail that
his next stop would be Kilise, and added,
- Whereas we are living on the same land; we ought to co-exist in
peace! I am going to try it!
Hacı Ismail painfully smiled as he remarked, “We have failed to find
a way out to win their goodwill. God willing, you would succeed!”
As he rode to Kikise, Osman either slumbered on the horseback or reviewed
what Hacı Ismail had told him. Having had slept very little at night,
his memory oscillated between consciousness and dream.
Osman dismounted, and trailed his horse, as they arrived before Kilise
in the same way he had done while entering Akıncılar.
Yeftale Hamız sarcastically remarked, “Our friend wants to teach
the Adiğe custom to the Bulgars.” Hun Gazi couldn’t help laughing.
Pamel and his son Anton lived at the fringe of the village. There
was a large garden in front of their house. The cultivated fields
were surrounded with fences made of dry tree branches. The cattle
and the pigs let loose at a separate fenced open enclave.
Anton received Osman and his companions. A little while later Pamel
turned up. He seemed to have never shaved in his life. His
hair protruded out of his dirty fez, down to his shoulders. His beard
and mustaches overlapped, to cover up his lips. He was holding a
forked walking stick, like the one held by the priests.
He nodded as he came close. “Welcome!” he accosted.
Osman had borrowed corn seed from Pamel and his son on the first year of
the Adğe migration. Anton had accompanied him to the other Bulgar villages.
Since then they had been on friendly terms.
At the beginning the Bulgars were rather skeptic. But Osman’s sober
manners had appealed them. Osman had won their friendship when, after
two years, he repaid the loan corn seed with interest.
But now their attitude was far from being friendly. The countenance
of both the father and the son was gloomy. It seemed
as if they didn’t mind exhibiting their annoyance.
The younger members of the family, however, took over the visitors’ horses,
while the elders ones showed them in.
In the garden and in front of the house the pigs rambled around, emitting
an offensive smell. In the living room, however, there was a peculiar
depressive atmosphere.
Yeftale Hamız made a sore face as he sat down. “Are we going to stay
the whole night in this dirt?” he said, looking at Osman.
Meanwhile Anton had mobilized the females of the house. The brisk
movement outside the room suggested they were preparing for the meals.
As the room was getting darker, a young girl came in, and lighted the thick
candle sticks over the racks on either corners of the room.
At the illuminated corners there were icons of Jesus Christ and Holy
Virgin. The icons, though sooted by the burning candles, depicted
in general outlines, the images which they were meant to represent.
Pamel, in his poor Turkish, inquired how Osman was doing. “We are
preparing to sow the corn seeds”, he said to give a start to conversation.
- How about the situation on your end? How things are going
on the field?
Osman smiled, “Not bad”, he replied, and went on:
- Nowadays the boys are plowing the soil. To save the seed
we intend to sow in the autumn.
The old man responded, nodding his head.
- That is a good idea! They say “the Circassians don’t know cultivation;
for they are all the time concerned with fighting. To say the truth,
that is absolutely a slander.”
Osman laughed. To encourage the old man to speak on, he asked, “Who
says that?”
Pamel pointed his hand at Anton, his son, and asserted,
- Anton has heard the Turks and Bulgars both saying so often.
Anton was the father of two daughters and three sons. The youngest
of his boys was sitting near the door, curiously looking at the visitors.
The other two were out to invite their uncle and the priest. They
turned up as the conversation between Osman and Pamel intensified.
The priest, like allother monks, was in a black robe, and an edged cap,
specific to his profession.
The priest raised his right had in greeting, and proceeded forward, with
his eyes cast down, and took his seat on the sofa along the wall in front
of him.
Anton’s brother, Dimitri, was a typical Bulgar, with a protruded belly
and thick mustaches. He seemed to have difficulty in breathing. He
followed the priest.
Then came in the younger daughter of the house. She whispered
to her brothers. The two young men lifted up the table on the left side
of the door, and placed it in front of the sofa, seated by Basti Osman
and Yeftale Hamız.
The young ladies and girls of the house set the plates, glasses and bread
on the table, and at the center of the table they placed a large plallter
containing three roasted chickens.
Antons sons lifted up the sofa seated by the Priest and Dimitri, and placed
it at the other side of the table.
The younger ones left the room, while the elders took their seats at the
table.
Pamel said,
- Osman Efendi! The Circassians didn’t leave any cattle with us.
And since you don’t eat pork, we had to serve you chickens.
It annoyed Anton. He waved his head either side, and complained,
- Father! you are impertinent.
The old man, undisturbed, responded,
- You needn’t be excited. Osman Efendi understands that I am
joking.
Yeftale Hamız had by now been acclimatized with the depressive atmosphere
of the room. His mouth watered at the sight of the roasted chickens.
He helped himself with a piece of bread, made of a mixture of corn and
wheat flour.
Others followed him. They talked as they helped themselves with the
chickens. Everybody had the topic of the Bulgarian revolt in mind.
Both Osman and Pamel, in particular, wanted to broach the subject; but
didn’t know where to begin.
The old man could no longer suppress the urge. He said,
- Osman Efeni! You know, last year some idiot Bulgars revolted, demanding
independence; upon which the Circassians attacked our villages. Was
that necessary? What wrong had we done to you?
Osman smiled painfully. “ Okay, what wrong had we done to you?”
he retorted. Osman went on,
- You must have heard. The insurgent bands encircled our villages.
Killed thirty of our men, and wounded an equal number. My elder son
and a few of my relatives were among the ones killed.
Pamel had stuffed into his mouth too a large morsel of chicken, which gulped
down with some difficulty, being devoid of teeth. Hence his response came
rather delayed:
- I have heard it. I was very sorry for it. Not only
that; I was very scared too. I worried about the future, and about
our friendship. ‘Here comes the end of the world’, I said by myself.
There was suspense in the room.
The priest was a middle aged person. He gazed at Osman, bemused.
He joined the conversation for the first time.
- Neither your religion nor ours permits manslaughter. Very bad things
have happened. May God forgive all of us!
Osman gazed at the priest and then turned his looks to Pamel. “Do you know
what for we have come to visit you?” he asked.
The hosts stooped eating, and focused attention on Osman.
Osman continued,
- Many a Bulgars have begun hating us because of the incidents. Some
of them are said to have threatened that they would “finish the Circassians
at the first available opportunity!”
Pamel retreated, retorting, “No! No!” he continued,
- It is true that we have been annoyed. But no one would accept
foolish acts. It is satanic.
“It is not acceptable by us either!” Osman declared. He went on,
- Whereas we live in the same land; we ought to co-exist in peace.
Everyone with commonsense should support this idea. We expect the
clergymen to take the lead in this respect!
They continued talking on the same subject for some time more after the
dinner. They sat till late hours of the night. They mutually
promised to safeguard peace, at least in the Yantra Basin.
Hamız, having satisfied his hunger, was no longer interested in the discussion.
With the impact of the drowsiness caused by over-eating, he went into slumber.
Pamel laughed at the sight of Yeftale Hamız. “Hurry up! Let us go
to bed!” he exclaimed.
Every one was fatigued and sleepy. All went to sleep immediately
after having retired to bed.
They set out for Bastihabl late in the morning. Osman felt himself more
lively and serene then had been the day before.
Osman was haunted by the spectre of a blood feud in the area in the
near future. He had an opportunity to feel the pulse of the Bulgars
in the village of Kilise. They too had been seriously sacred of the
past unrest. They seemed unlikely to cause a nuisance unless provoked.
Nevertheless there was one thing certain. The Bulgars despised both
the Turks and the Circassians. They most probably were to look
for ways and means of getting relieved from both of the communities.
Osman didn’t like the priest, who had rarely spoke last night, had been
particular in presenting a low profile, and had been continually studying
Osman and his companions.
O0O
Osman had justifiable reasons to be worried. In Caucasia he had been
living in an environment of homogenous population. While in the Taman
region, he had no difficulty in putting up well with the Tatars and the
Hatkoy. The Turkish and Armenian traders in the coastal strip live
in harmony with the Adiğes. Any serious frictions were non-existent.
There had been Turkish garrisons in Fort Anapa and Fort Soğucak.
He was too young at that time to remember how they fared. His
elders had told him that the Turkish soldiers and the Adiğe had fought
against the Russian side by side.
The situation in Bulgaria, however, was very different. The Turks
here were not familiar enough with the Circassians whom they suspected.
The Bulgars harbored animosity towards the Adiğes; though they tried
not to show it. These were two irrefutable facts of life in Bulgaria so
far as the Adiğe refugees were concerned.
Osman could comprehend that there was little hope of peaceful-coexistence
of the three major ethnic components of the population of Bulgaria.
To him a serious confrontation seemed likely in the near future. He realized
the urgency of measures to be taken to defuse the tension.
Basti Osman could at least contemplate on measures to be taken in the area
where his opinion mattered. The Spring Festival could provide a good
opportunity to initiate such measures.
The Bulgars were mixture of Turkic and Slavic ethnicity. They owed
their name to the Bulgar Turks from the Volga Basin. In addition;
various Turkic tribal conglomerates such as Peçenek, Kuman and Kıpçak had
melted in the same crucible. The Bulgar tradition carried traces
of Shamanism. Cebrations to welcome the spring season were observed by
the Bulgars too.
The Muslim Turks celebrated the Hıdrellez Festival annually on the sixth
day of May, which was nothing but an occasion to welcome the spring season.
The Circassians, though professed Islam, were sustaining the memories of
their polytheist past. Hence, they too enthusiastically observed
the celebrations to welcome the spring season.
Thus the three different ethnic groups could get together on the occasion
of the Spring Festival. Given a good organization, it would turn
out to be an event common for all the people in the Yantra Valley.
A few days after his return to Bastihabl, Osman discussed the subject
with Hun Şeril. To begin with, he told the Imam that due to
the migration, resettlement and the attending miseries they had to sustain,
the Circassians neither had the means nor the heart to entertain in the
open air; and therefore, they tended to forget their old customs.
He pointed out that now the days of poverty were more or less over, and
they were in a position to oblige their neighbors. Then he disclosed
to him his own idea.
- Let us organize a big spring festival this year. Let us invite
all our neighbors, the Turks and the Bulgars as well. Let all the
people in the Yantra Valley get together on the occasion. Let them
compete in riding. What do you think? Wouldn’t it be wonderful?
He paused and gazed at the Imam. Hun Şeril was smiling with a strange
expression on his face. For a moment it occurred to Osman that the
Imam did not take his suggestion seriously. In a disappointed tone
he continued,
- The Bulgarian rebellion made everyone nervous and suspicious of
the other. But we need peace and tranquillity. Someone must
come up and do some thing to defuse the tension.
Hun Şeril was still smiling. “In my youth I had met your father on
a number of occasions.” He began his response.
- Basti Pşımef used to talk about things that no one could have imagined
in those days. You too talk like him. How did the question
of festival occur to you.?
Osman was further disappointed. He groaned,
- Thamete! Don’t you justify my suggestion?
The Imam corrected, “ No. I didn’t say so.” He went on:
- To the contrary; I have found it very interesting. But very
serious measures have to be taken. You know it; our youth can
commit excesses. They have to be warned before hand.
“Leave that part of the job to me”, Osman jubilantly replied. Basti
Osman, relieved of the anxiety, came out to the courtyard of
the mosque. Without any further delay, he organized a meeting of
the elders of the neighboring Adiğe villages. He entertained the
elders at dinner and then expounded his ideas in a calm and self-assured
manner.
Hun Şeril presided the meeting. He did not miss any opportunity to
express his support for Osman’s proposal.
Except Yeftale Hamız, all the participants endorsed the proposal submitted
by Osman.
Hamız expressed his opposition by remarking , “I can understand inviting
the Turks; but what the Bulgars have got to do amongst us?” The negative
atmosphere caused by Hamız, immediately dispelled.
“ You two live in the same premises; but can’t help stay without
fighting.” Havuduko Bislan teased him. That caused a roar of
laughter in the large main living room. The meeting resumed a constructive
atmosphere. The details of the projected Spring Festival was discussed
at length. Decisions were adopted.
The upstream Yantra basin was covered with forests. On the hill skirts
as well as inside the forests there were fountains and beautiful
meadows. The scenery was magnificent. The only snag was that
the villages to the north, where the stream entered the plains, were too
far away. Those who would come from there were required to
stay overnight. Therefore a more suitable place had to be found;
so that people from Akıncılar, Kilise and the villages further to the north
could come together without the need to stay overnight at the festival
place.
It was, therefore decided to choose a place further north in order to shorten
the distance involved in favor of their guests.
The Yantra Stream made an curve towards the west and again turned to the
north as it entered the plains. Several rich tributary waters joined
the stream on the left bank. The tributaries to the right of
the stream were nothing but poorly fed small creeks.
The elders of the three Adiğe villages authorized Basti Osman, Sinan Naur
and Havuduko Bislan to organize the festival. They were supposed
to start the preparation, seeking the help of as many assistants as they
may deem necessary.
Osman undertook the responsibility of extending invitations. Havuduko
and Naur were in charge of providing the participants with services, including
guide, and serving food and beverages.
The three chief organizers immediately set to work. Osman formed
a team of emissaries to convey the invitations to the Turkish and Bulgar
villages on either side of the Yantra Stream. He appointed Hun Hazi
as the team leader, to be asssisted by Bjafe Musa of Bastihabl.
Sinan Naur and Havuduko Bislan selected fifteen resourceful young men from
each of the three Adiğe villages. Detailed them on the things they
were supposed to do at the festival. They visited the well-to-do
families one by one to collect contributions from them in the form of slaughter
animals.
The sixth of May was the Hıdrallez Day for the Turks. Hıdır was the
harbinger of the spring season. According to the mythology of the
Turks, wherever Hıdır stepped, flowers blossomed; that he had attained
eternal life by discovering Ab-i Hayat the Fountain of Life.
The sixth day of May signified the meeting day of Hıdır and Ilyad.
The Saint George’s Festival also coincided roughly on the same day.
Osman and the other leading Adiğes had witnessed the same traditional festivals
of the Turks and the Bulgars before. Notwithstanding their ignorance
of the origin of either festival, the Adiğes opted the sixth of May
to celebrate the Adiğe traditional Spring Festival, so that all the three
communities could celebrate their respective holy days on the same day
and at the same place. They calculated That it would be the best opportunity
to get together on that day. In addition to the people of the Turkish and
Bulgar villages, Osman also invited the Circasians of the villages on the
plains to the left side of the Yantra Stream to attend the festival.
The emissaries bearing the invitations toured the villages and came back
with positive news.
Havuduko Bislan and Sinan Naur inspected the site selected as the venue
of the festival, and pinpointed the spot good for camping.
It was located at the confluence of Yantra and one of its contributors.
On either side there towered big trees providing wide shady space.
The youth were mobilized; trees were cut and canopies were built
for the guests.
The females got busy at home as the month of May commenced, preparing long
lasting eatables, bread, cookies, and fried stuff for the festival.
Skurun looked gloomy. She had not yet overcome the distressdue to
the loss of her son and daughter. It was evident in her movements
also. She worked slowly, talked in low tone, looked depressed.
She showed concern especially to Hanses, her brother’s wife. For Habses
also had lost her son, Degu; and not one of her relatives was with her.
Her relatives had been directed to a destination unknown to her.
Notwithstanding the loneliness and bereavement, she did not show much of
a reaction, except quiescence.
That was why Skurun had been somuch concerned with Hanses.
Skurun had many close relatives around, who cared for her.
Beside, her husband and her children, all the families in the district
happened to be related to her. Her elder brother and two of
her elder sisters were with her. Karej and Nefin did not let her
alone for a single minute.
The males had constructed a wide canopy along the wall to the left of the
courtyard, under which they had installed the oven, the mortar rock and
the manual grinding mill. The females performed their daily routine
under this canopy. It was the most busy place in the district.
On the beautiful days of the sprig and summer the women and girls
of the five families of the Basti district, and the children or course,
gathered here dialy from early in the morning. Everyone would find
something do.
Skurun, walking with slow paces, joined the lively crowd everyday,
but each day later than the day before. For a while she looked with dimmed
eyes at the busy women. Of and on she would instruct how to do or not a
certain thing. At times she would not like a thing done. She
would reprimand, and nervously attempt to do it herself.
There were more then ten boys in their late adolescence. They too
mingled and interfered with the work of the females. Skurun would
not tolerate the scene. She would chase them away.
Zekeriya, son of Yeflate Hamız, was eldest of the boys. He would lead the
boys away from the canopy. The same scene used to repeat several
times a day.
In those days there was a distinct excitement and enthusiasm in all the
houses in Bastihabl, not only in the Basti district, where Basti Osman
was the leader.
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