Munzur Cem

                    THE ESCAPE

She came to herself with a start: her first action was to look at the stove a few steps away. There was no sign of life there; it was out, or almost, and that meant she would shiver. She stood but could hardly stay upright. Her right leg had gone to sleep, her head was spinning and it was dark before her eyes. She put her hands on her legs a little above the knees and waited like this for a while until dizziness passed, then hopped towards the stove. Opening the lid she looked in, stirred the ashes with a bit of twig and pushed a few embers to the back. Without waiting she arranged the firewood, pushed cinders from the rear to the centre, threw on thin twigs and began to blow gently. Before long the stove was alight.

Kara Bese, resting beside it, got up and went to the window to take a look outside, but could see nothing through the clouded glass. She wiped it with her sleeve and muttered:

`That's why it's got so cold in here.'

Outside nothing had changed. The weather was the same as in the morning; for two days snow showers had continued with unabated speed, big whirling flakes coming down fast, like a huge crowd who never stopped dancing. The snow lay more than half a metre deep. Branches of trees crushed under the weighty load on their backs, bowed to the ground. Further on, the country houses, some single, some two-storeyed, were covered in a white blanket and connected to one another by scattered narrow tracks. People had come out on some of the roofs and bobbing up and down were digging away the snow with wooden shovels.

But in some there was no movement at all: the snow had cast a spell on them as well as the trees. Chimney smoke was rising in separate columns, then as it scattered it enveloped the whole town. Dogs appeared here and there, tails between their legs, but soon disappeared.

At that moment into her head came the region and mountains of Kara Bese's tribe, the Demenan. How much snow would there be there now if it was like this in Mazger? What a long time since she had received any news about her family and neighbours. She wondered why. Had something terrible happened, or had they just not found a chance to send word? How were her family and neighbours? Where were they hiding, what were they doing? And what about the children, she wondered. How are they? Are they warm enough, have they enough to eat? Have they socks on their feet, and shoes? Are they depressed, or is there sometimes something to lighten their spirits? Ah, she missed them so much; she never lost sight of their image even for a moment; they were always beside her, joking and smiling. The first days of prison life, this separation had not seemed so important, “I'll get used to it in time,” Bese had thought. But passing time proved her wrong. The more she tried to subdue it her yearning grew greater and greater.

And when she turned and looked the other way there wasn't the slightest thing to be seen. The soldiers had closed even the door of the guard's hut and were buried in silence. Listening a little more carefully she thought she was mistaken: intermittent sounds were coming from the hut.

While she continued to keep track of events outside, something she had been planning for a long time gradually began to bear fruit in her head. Could there be a better time than now to escape from this hell? If she didn't do it today when else could she do it?

As she left her place to approach the stove again her eyes were sparkling. She recalled that she hadn't smiled properly for weeks. Her feelings were a mixture of fear and excitement.

`Yes, this is the night for it; I'll escape tonight,' she said, and added:

`Pray God the snow doesn't stop.'

Full of these feelings she sat down by the stove and, hands on knees, went on thinking. This time what she did was not to decide whether or not to escape but to consider how she would, and consider it to the full`. Snow showers are both good and bad. If the snow goes on falling it'll make my way harder and that's bad. But footprints will disappear fast; they won't know where I'm going and that's good. I wonder, if they noticed would they come after me at night? No, they can't possibly do that; they wouldn't take the risk. They don't go out before daylight. But I can't be certain. I must make my plans as though they'd come after me,' she went on muttering to herself.

At this point the sound of voices came from the corridor but there was no one there; either the guards were talking among themselves or with the prisoners; either way, they weren't concerned with her.

Kara Bese did not for one moment lose sight of her plan of escape and at last day ended and darkness fell. Meantime she had bolted her evening ration of bread and lentil soup, and looking up where the light from the stove was flickering on the ceiling, she continued to think.

They had left behind a year full of hardships and made a new start in 1938. The ongoing dispute of the last year between the state and the Dersim Kurds had not yet been resolved. In fact the harsh winter conditions considerably cooled the heat of the battle, but this was temporary. As soon as spring came the fighting would undoubtedly flare up again. So while they were in Dersim wasn't she going to do something on her own account? Was she going to sit paralysed in prison waiting to die? Of course not. Never had any part of her mind wanted to contemplate such a thing and so she must leave the filthy dungeon behind immediately, leave it behind and start realising her own longings. This she must do even if she were to die in the end.

After that Bese passed the night sitting down, getting up, walking about. After the final changing of the guard she didn't leave the window for quite a long time. She wanted to understand completely what was happening out there. And then she quietly opened the window a little but before she stuck her head out, she listened carefully — not a sound. Like Mazger the prison seemed sunk in a deadly sleep. She drew aside and examined the watchman's hut again: but she was not wrong, there was no movement of any kind there. The moment she was waiting for had come, for better or for worse She piled all her clothes one on top of the other, she bound her feet tightly with a roll of cloth and opened the window. Flakes of snow smote her face and her heart was beating wildly in her breast. She pressed her hand there and rubbed:

`Come on, no more waiting,' she said to herself.

With this command she climbed on the window-sill and jumped without any hesitation. Despite the snow she was severely jolted and for a moment she almost passed out. Moreover she felt a sharp pain in the bone of her right foot. But there was no time to think about this. She quickly pulled herself together, looked around checking if anyone was there and at once moved to the side of the prison. Now the watchmen couldn't see her without moving away from their posts .

Bese walked. Trudging through the snow, heedless of darkness and cold, she went on her way. She was aware she could not go any further like that. She had to come to a track, or a road. It was easier to follow a track, even covered with snow.

Thinking thus on the one hand, and on the other, frequently turning round and checking behind her, a moment suddenly came when Mazger became invisible. This was very comforting, She stood, she inhaled deeply. `Ah', she breathed. (...)

After she had travelled a very long way, suddenly on her left she glimpsed something black. She approached it, curious. It was a sharp-pointed stick stuck in the snow and when he saw it her heart overflowed with joy, for it meant she was now on the road, for if it were not a place where people came and went what was that stick doing there? She moved fast, her speed quickened, she looked around. She had not been wrong; this was the road and it was important from now on not to lose sight of it.

She reached a ridge some hundred meters ahead, but contrary to her hopes not a village or house appeared. Deadly silence continued to reign over nature and this lowered her morale somewhat. Also for some reason the wolves came into her mind at that moment, and as they did she turned this way and that, looking before her and behind. But there was not the slightest thing to be seen. Bese soon managed as always to chase away her fears; she examined herself as though fear had made her guilty of something. (...)

The burning pain in her feet was gradually going numb and she went on her way with what speed she could muster, using her strength till the end. To stop, to slow down even, meant to die. At last as night ended and it grew lighter around her she came face to face with the first village.

Some days later Kara Bese, reunited with her family, was telling the story of her escape to a crowd gathered around her. It all seemed like a fairy tale.