THE AFAH LOVE

Travelling To Armenia...

Cada and Aşkın had been accepted for a job in Armenia, a newly independent republic separated from the Soviet Union, and they set out on a truck to work in a country that had almost nothing. To reach Armenia, they needed to pass through Georgia. After crossing the steep border gate, they felt as though they had been transported 50 years back in time by a time machine. With curious eyes, they observed their surroundings, gathering information about the places and people from the driver. When Driver Ali passed the Sarp border gate and reached the vicinity of Batumi, he said, "Welcome to the land of iron, kids. Iron is abundant here. Life is very cheap. With the value of the dollar, you can live like kings for 100-200 dollars, but you also need to be careful," he warned.

"Why?" asked Aşkın, raising his eyebrows like an arch.

"Why, you ask? Money is valuable, there's no work, and, more importantly, there's nothing to eat. Where there's none of these, there's no law or police either," said Cada.

"Exactly," added Driver Ali.

A little further on, a Georgian police officer with a large, round hat, waving a baton, stopped the vehicle. He ordered everyone in the truck to get out. While Driver Ali remained calm, fear was evident on the faces of Aşkın and Cada. How could they not be afraid? At the age of 21, without even having been to a big city from a small Anatolian town, they were about to cross into Armenia, a country with a history of wars, where there was a trade embargo, and even Turks had no residence or work permits. Cada found himself in Batumi, where, in May 1944, Stalin had unexpectedly put the Kumans and Kipchak Turks, kin of Cada's mother, on trains and sent them into exile. Every time Cada heard about this tragedy from his great-grandmother, who had escaped to Rize via the Kaçkar Mountains just one day before leaving everything in Batumi, his curiosity deepened. Yes, now he was in the land where his ancestors, who came from North Caucasus upon the invitation of Georgian King David in 1089 to strengthen his army, had lived for about a thousand years. Seventy-seven years ago, thousands were sent into exile and killed on these lands. Cada wondered, "Will my fate be like theirs?"

His heart raced as he considered what he could do if something went wrong. The truck stopped, and three more police officers got out of the adjacent police vehicle. The last one to exit was the largest and appeared the most intoxicated. His face was overly red, and his eyes were bloodshot. As they approached, the intensity of the heavy smell wafting from them increased, revealing the source of the stench. The men were completely drunk, reeking of vodka. While danger alarms were ringing in Cada and Aşkın's minds, Driver Ali remained calm. His composure gave the impression that what was happening wasn't too extraordinary, somewhat reassuring the boys. Before showing their passports, Driver Ali slipped $5 bills between them. The police officer, who was a bit stout, must have found the money insufficient, as he raised his voice. He said something in Russian to the tall, blue-eyed policeman next to him.

Meanwhile, the burly police officer began walking towards the back of Driver Ali. He headed towards the boys. It was evident that something was going wrong. The police officer took out his baton and pressed it against Ali's throat, lifting him up with support from Ali's stomach. Ali's feet left the ground, and he swayed like a mischievous child's toy bear in someone's lap. The others moved towards the boys. Cada swiftly grabbed the baton of the approaching policeman and began kicking his legs. This allowed Ali to free himself from the man's grip. Aşkın, caught between the other two policemen, tried to defend himself against the impending attack. But it didn't work. Both of them pounced on Aşkın, rendering him helpless. Cada, from his position, swiftly grabbed the baton of one of the policemen and kicked the other's legs from behind. This allowed Ali to disable the burly policeman. Now, what would they do? If the incident was reported to the police station, they would end up in jail in Batumi, and perhaps, they would spend many years behind bars. Fate had a twist; the country his family had warned him not to go to, saying, "They'll kill you in Armenia," was now their salvation. Time was running out. If they could hide the police officers for 24 hours, they could reach the Armenian border and cross without any problems.

They tightly bound the officers' hands, arms, and mouths and put them in the police vehicle. They hid the vehicle a bit further ahead, in a deserted forest among bushes where no one could see. They removed the battery to prevent them from honking and placed it in the truck. Disabling the radios, they hopped onto the truck.

About 5 hours later, they took a break to spend the night at a hotel in Tbilisi. After having meals and tea, when they retired to their rooms to sleep, they couldn't believe what they saw. In the room, three double beds were occupied by four young girls. The hotel owner explained that there were no other rooms available, and this was the only vacant bed. Reluctantly, they had to accept. Two of the girls had their eyes on us. When they expressed their desire to sleep with us, Aşkın and I had to hug each other and stay alert until morning. When we told this story, Sevim was more frightened by the girls' demands than the death threat we experienced. She got a bit upset but later composed herself.

This beginning had shocked us. Where had we come to? On our first day, we had experienced two significant events we had never encountered in our lives. Of course, we could understand that the girls' demands were related to money. Both of us knew we weren't that handsome. After a 3-4 hour sleep without eating anything, we left the hotel. Fortunately, there was no queue at the border gate when we arrived. Thanks to the extra money we put in our wallets, we easily crossed to the Armenian side. The three of us took a deep breath. We were alive and free.

To reach the capital, Yerevan, you have to cross the Allah-u Ekber Mountains, where we suffered 90,000 martyrs in World War I. The cries of "Allah-u Ekber" from our martyrs, about to die from cold and hunger, echoed for days from these mountains. The sounds were even heard from the capital, Yerevan. That's why these mountains are called the Allah-u Ekber Mountains. Since the mountain road was snowy and icy in February, we couldn't pass. We were forced to spend the night on the summit of a mountain where, as they say, devils play at night. The indicators showed an outside temperature of -30 degrees. Even though 107 years had passed, I could still hear the cries of "Allah-u Ekber" in the early morning. Ultimately, in a total of 5 days, we managed to reach Yerevan.