CHAPTER 79
I Am Philothei (13)
I remember once I was out gathering figs and I had gone quite a long way, and I had picked a lot of them because I needed them both for my father’s house and for Rustem Bey’s house. Then Ibrahim appeared. He had done the bleat of a goat that had nothing to say, and so I knew he was coming.
When he popped up from behind a bush, he made me laugh as usual. Then he came out and took my hand and kissed it, and said, “My little bird,” and I said, “Why do you always call me little bird?” and he said, “Because you are delicate and beautiful, and you sing when you are working, and I have always thought of you as a little bird. When a thought of you suddenly comes into my mind, I think, ‘Oh, it’s the little bird.’ ”
I said, “Do you remember when Karatavuk and Mehmetçik my brother tried to fly and ran around flapping their arms, and it never worked?” and he thought about it and said, “I think it’s because arms don’t have feathers.”
I said, “If we had feathers on our arms, do you think we could fly?” and he said, “Maybe not. If that was possible, someone would have done it by now,” and I said, “Think how free we would be. We could fly to the top of a mountain and there would be no one to tell us to be ashamed, and no one would see us.”
Next time I saw him he said, “I had a dream about flying, and when I woke up I had verses in my head.”
I said, “Verses? Can you remember them?” and he recited:
“Don’t pity the eagle
Who can climb the sky and fly
But for the little wingless bird
Cry.
Fire will be found by
Birds that fly too high
And all his feathers burn
And he’ll fall down and die.
What bird has two nests
Only one shall remain
And his wings burn
And he’ll not fly again.
What if I make a high nest
But the branch sinks low?
They will take my little bird
And I will die of woe.
Oh my little bird
Who will chase you?
Who will put you in a cage
And tenderly embrace you?
It’s not possible to light a
Candle that doesn’t drip,
And it’s not possible to love
And never weep.”
And I said, “Oh, Ibrahim, where did these words come from?” and he said, “They were given to me by the night,” and I said, “With words like these you could become famous, if only you were known in the Sultan’s court.”
He said, “I will never be known in the Sultan’s court. Sometimes I feel I am like an eagle. I feel I am strong and whole in the heart, I feel as if I could accomplish anything. I could look down on the earth and beyond it, and I would be lord of the earth because I am lord of the air. But I have been tied to the ground. I will be scratching dust for ever, like a chicken.”
Then he paused and turned away from me, and said, “I would be an eagle, but God has clipped my wings.”
I said, “What kind of a bird would I be?”
He thought for a few moments, and said, “A partridge.”