seated？”

I dropped to the floor and imitated the guest： “I’m a very serious man

now；　Mother；　look。　I’m　listening　to　my　grandfather　with　knit　eyebrows；　as　if　I

were listening to the birth epic being recited。 I’m nodding my head in time

now；　very　seriously　like　that　guest。”

“Go　downstairs；”　my　mother　said；　“call　for　Hayriye　at　once。”

32

She　sat　down　and　began　writing　on　a　small　piece　of　paper　on　the　writing

board　she’d　taken　up。

“Mother；　what　are　you　writing？”

“Be　quick；　now。　Didn’t　I　tell　you　to　go　downstairs　and　call　for　Hayriye？”

I　went　down　to　the　kitchen。　My　brother；　Shevket；　was　back。　Hayriye　had　put

before　him　a　plate　of　the　pilaf　meant　for　the　guest。

“Traitor；”　my　brother　said。　“You　just　went　off　and　left　me　with　the　Master。　I

did　all　the　folding　for　the　bindings　myself。　My　fingers　are　bruised　purple。”

“Hayriye；　my　mother　wants　to　see　you。”

“When　I’m　done　here；　I’m　going　to　give　you　such　a　beating；”　my　brother

said。　“You’ll　pay　for　your　laziness　and　treachery。”

When　Hayriye　left；　my　brother　stood　and　came　after　me　threateningly；　even

before　he’d　finished　his　pilaf。　I　couldn’t　get　away　in　time。　He　grabbed　my　arm

at　the　wrist　and　began　twisting　it。

“Stop；　Shevket；　don’t；　you’re　hurting　me。”

“Are　you　ever　going　to　shirk　your　duties　again　and　leave？”

“No；　I　won’t　ever　leave。”

“Swear　to　it。”

“I　swear。”

“Swear　on　the　Koran。”

“…on　the　Koran。”

He　didn’t　let　go　of　my　arm。　He　dragged　me　to　the　large　copper　tray　that　we

used　as　a　table　for　eating　and　forced　me　to　my　knees。　He　was　strong　enough　to

eat　his　pilaf　as　he　continued　to　twist　my　arm。