Bahçecik: [Bahchejik, Baghchajik, Baghchejik, Baghtchedjik & in Armenian Bardezag, Bardizag or Bardizagn]
© david@landowne.org. Copyright 2000-2008-2009.Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
© david@landowne.org. Copyright 2000-2008-2009.Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
© david@landowne.org. Copyright 2000-2008-2009.Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
Oldtimer Pictures of Bahcecik- Bardizag-Izmit, TurkeyI will share two pictures taken during 1900 at Bahcecik [Bardizag] during Ottoman times in Izmit City, Turkey. Those pictures are sent me by a friend of me, Mr. Greg [Krikor] Mukhalian, whose family was from Bahecik. Mukhalians now live in USA.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
Oldtimer Pictures of Bahcecik- Bardizag-Izmit, TurkeyI will share two pictures taken during 1900 at Bahcecik [Bardizag] during Ottoman times in Izmit City, Turkey. Those pictures are sent me by a friend of me, Mr. Greg [Krikor] Mukhalian, whose family was from Bahecik. Mukhalians now live in USA.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
Bahçecik: [Bahchejik, Baghchajik, Baghchejik, Baghtchedjik & in Armenian Bardezag, Bardizag or Bardizagn]
Bahçecik [Means in Turkish “Small Garden: Küçük Bahçe], Bahchejik, Baghchajik, Baghchejik, Baghtchedjik & in Armenian Bardezag, Bardizag or Bardizagn].
It was after Greater Marmara Quake happened on us on August 17, 1999 at daybreak times, chilling moments, we were all stacked up all together on one spot or another on the shades of trembling apartment flats with continuous “After Shocks”.
Dusts evaporating into air in the dizzying scenes of hours, so much early, earlier than it, it was just after 03:04s.. We, Kiraz Family members were looking around in great despair, horror, terrified, aimlessly and muttering unknown praying and thoughts for “immediate end” of this unexpected and never imagined natural shaking…
Our senior daughter Bengisu [just turned into 7 years] was on her mom’s hug and Aybuke Beren [just turned into 2 years] in my hug… There were no places for us to go or not any safe spot to take refuge.. I remember I repeatedly said to my wife Hanife; “What were left in our hands from our past, prosperous times? Any written memoires, any pictures! Would our loved daughters would have remembered what happened on us on this day and time? Probably not! [http://www.innvista.com/culture/literature/ebooks/story/erkan.htm].
Ever since those moments and days I have been taking documentarily pictures and writing documentarily essays about us, about our city of Izmit and its surrounding places. Before Quake we were going many different Picnic Areas including Soguksu [Coldwater] taken place on the southern hills of Bahcecik. I have had many friends from Bahcecik. It was for me a Turkish-Greek Exchange Migration’s [Turkiye –Yunanistan Mubadil Muhacereti or Turkiye –Yunanistan Yerdegisim Gocu] Migrants district. That agreement was signed under sponsorship of UN during 1924s.
When I started making short or longer trips, taking pictures, listening to stories of local dwellers, other stories of gone by from those dwelled places and started to read more what were past, Ottoman Era, Turkish Republic times and today, I came to decision that I must write something about places I have been to as the basis of “as is”, just “What I see and listen and What I get”!
Bahcecik was so small, greenish and so much hot place. Its dwellers were more much engaged with the jobs or trades connected to Izmit or places in the vicinity. It was not much attractive for dwelling for others. It was regarded as a faraway place like Dongel, Yuvacik, Suadiye, Dogankoy, Arslanbey or Buyuk Derbent. They were “Yunanistan Muhacirleri: Greece Migrants” or shortly “Yunan Macirleri: Greek Migrants”.
I have paid many visits to Bahcecik, taken pictures, listened to un-recorded and unwritten stories of “Yunan Macirleri” and other stories belong to Ottoman Armenians once these places were their living places, who were either forced to migration, deportation or left for other places due to simply uncertain or indescribable “fear of life” under those terrible years, when Ottoman Empire was attacked by Imperialist and Colony States of Great Britain, Italy, France, Germany, The USA and Russia and with great support of Britain, the Greece…
I have search much, read many books, fingered out many books, documents, pictures from the shelves of second hand book stores and read many lifestories posted on Internet on either Izmit or Gundogdu, Bahcecik, Karatepe, Tatarkoy, Ihsaniye, Buyukderbent, Karamursel, Yuvacik, Ovacik, Arslanbey, Degirmedere, Buyuk Derbent, Sapanca, Adapazari and the likes..
Out of those was David Landowne’s story, which has summarized short life stories about Bahcecik. The Author, Robert Chambers, is the father of David Landowne’s recently deceased colleague Edward Chambers’ granddad, who has lived for some years and written down some short essays on the daily life and events happened there, at Bahcecik or with its original name of Bardizag. I have corresponded with David Landowne on those days about his story and given him some suggestion just as he today remembers them [Thanks to his strong memory].
Now after having taken his written permission of posting his story on my blog, I will transfer it here.
© david@landowne.org. Copyright 2000-2008-2009.
Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
Sincerely Yours,
Erkan Kiraz,
Alikahya, City of Izmit, Turkey,
On the day of Dec 27, 2008.
Email: erkankiraz@yahoo.com
********************************************************
Robert Chambers, Pioneer in the study of living cells
It was after Greater Marmara Quake happened on us on August 17, 1999 at daybreak times, chilling moments, we were all stacked up all together on one spot or another on the shades of trembling apartment flats with continuous “After Shocks”.
Dusts evaporating into air in the dizzying scenes of hours, so much early, earlier than it, it was just after 03:04s.. We, Kiraz Family members were looking around in great despair, horror, terrified, aimlessly and muttering unknown praying and thoughts for “immediate end” of this unexpected and never imagined natural shaking…
Our senior daughter Bengisu [just turned into 7 years] was on her mom’s hug and Aybuke Beren [just turned into 2 years] in my hug… There were no places for us to go or not any safe spot to take refuge.. I remember I repeatedly said to my wife Hanife; “What were left in our hands from our past, prosperous times? Any written memoires, any pictures! Would our loved daughters would have remembered what happened on us on this day and time? Probably not! [http://www.innvista.com/culture/literature/ebooks/story/erkan.htm].
Ever since those moments and days I have been taking documentarily pictures and writing documentarily essays about us, about our city of Izmit and its surrounding places. Before Quake we were going many different Picnic Areas including Soguksu [Coldwater] taken place on the southern hills of Bahcecik. I have had many friends from Bahcecik. It was for me a Turkish-Greek Exchange Migration’s [Turkiye –Yunanistan Mubadil Muhacereti or Turkiye –Yunanistan Yerdegisim Gocu] Migrants district. That agreement was signed under sponsorship of UN during 1924s.
When I started making short or longer trips, taking pictures, listening to stories of local dwellers, other stories of gone by from those dwelled places and started to read more what were past, Ottoman Era, Turkish Republic times and today, I came to decision that I must write something about places I have been to as the basis of “as is”, just “What I see and listen and What I get”!
Bahcecik was so small, greenish and so much hot place. Its dwellers were more much engaged with the jobs or trades connected to Izmit or places in the vicinity. It was not much attractive for dwelling for others. It was regarded as a faraway place like Dongel, Yuvacik, Suadiye, Dogankoy, Arslanbey or Buyuk Derbent. They were “Yunanistan Muhacirleri: Greece Migrants” or shortly “Yunan Macirleri: Greek Migrants”.
I have paid many visits to Bahcecik, taken pictures, listened to un-recorded and unwritten stories of “Yunan Macirleri” and other stories belong to Ottoman Armenians once these places were their living places, who were either forced to migration, deportation or left for other places due to simply uncertain or indescribable “fear of life” under those terrible years, when Ottoman Empire was attacked by Imperialist and Colony States of Great Britain, Italy, France, Germany, The USA and Russia and with great support of Britain, the Greece…
I have search much, read many books, fingered out many books, documents, pictures from the shelves of second hand book stores and read many lifestories posted on Internet on either Izmit or Gundogdu, Bahcecik, Karatepe, Tatarkoy, Ihsaniye, Buyukderbent, Karamursel, Yuvacik, Ovacik, Arslanbey, Degirmedere, Buyuk Derbent, Sapanca, Adapazari and the likes..
Out of those was David Landowne’s story, which has summarized short life stories about Bahcecik. The Author, Robert Chambers, is the father of David Landowne’s recently deceased colleague Edward Chambers’ granddad, who has lived for some years and written down some short essays on the daily life and events happened there, at Bahcecik or with its original name of Bardizag. I have corresponded with David Landowne on those days about his story and given him some suggestion just as he today remembers them [Thanks to his strong memory].
Now after having taken his written permission of posting his story on my blog, I will transfer it here.
© david@landowne.org. Copyright 2000-2008-2009.
Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
Sincerely Yours,
Erkan Kiraz,
Alikahya, City of Izmit, Turkey,
On the day of Dec 27, 2008.
Email: erkankiraz@yahoo.com
********************************************************
Robert Chambers, Pioneer in the study of living cells
Robert Chambers (1881-1957) was best known for his fundamental and enduring work on the biophysics of protoplasm. He worked on the structure of living membranes, capillary physiology, mesonephros function, fertilization in marine eggs, and adhesiveness of cancer cells in tissue culture. His astonishing development of the micromanipulator, along with the essential glass needles, micropippettes, electrodes, and microgages, stands as a landmark in the progress of science.
Born in Erzurum, Turkey, of Canadian missionary parents, he grew up in a deeply religious household and in the exciting atmosphere of Armenian-Turkish disputes. He went to Robert College in Constantinople, graduating with a BA in 1900. He received a MA from Regina (possibly now part of Queens University, Kingston, Canada) in 1902 and then taught high school in Bardezag, Turkey from 1902-05. He then went to Germany where he earned a Ph.D. in 1908.
Much more about his scientific career can be found from obituaries (e.g. Science 126:645 or Biological Bull 115:10-11) or the book Explorations into the Nature of the Living Cell by Robert and Edward L. Chambers from Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1961 LCC No 61-8845.
This web site presents some stories he wrote about his experiences in Turkey. They have been retyped from his manuscript with only minor changes of spelling or punctuation. Eventually there will be more than thirty stories.
1. Nature Stories
Erzerum
Constantinople [this was included in the table of contents but no stories were indicated]
Bardezag
The Funeral Procession
Another Funeral Procession
Haeckel
Sari Baba's Story
The Stone Road
The Drum
Indian Rollers and Bee-eaters
Our Hermit
Means of Travel
Trials and Tribulations
Soldiers
My First Ship
The Laz Village
Nicaea
The Flag
The Customs
Saribaba
The Funeral Procession
When I was twelve years old, I witnessed an amazing funeral procession. We were living in Bardezag, an Armenian village of about 10,000 inhabitants.
In Asia Minor the farmers of country folk do not live on their lands for fear of murderers, and the country people of various nationalities group themselves together in villages. For example, the village we were living in was composed of the Armenians in that district. A few miles away there would be a Greek village and a few miles from that a Turkish, then a Laz village, then a Ceutacian village, etc. These Lazes were from Lazestan near the Caucasus and the Black Sea. Emigrants crowded Constantinople. They believed their troubles would end if they could only reach the City. Municipal authorities wondered what to do with the dozens of daily arrivals. They could only give them property in near-by regions of Asia Minor where they could settle, open up the country, and do their agricultural work. In Asia Minor were some of the first settled countries of the world and today there are still some virgin forests. The country of ancient civilization is all gine. At the time at which I am writing, it is sparsely settled, and one can wander for days through forests without meeting or coming upon any town or village. Now and then right in the depths of the forest one can find today the remains of an ancient village. The cobblestone roads of the Roman days are still discernible, the remains of buildings are now covered over by almost impenetrable vines. This part of the country is very mountainous, has precipitous heights, deep ravines, and in some parts, rolling hills. This is the reason that the peasantry live in scattered groups and villages.
The produce of the villages, for the most part, consisted of woven silk, so that their lands were planted with mulberry trees, and they grew fields and fields of tobacco, vineyards, olive groves and fig plantations.
The outlaws were also grouped in bands according to their nationalities. It was really a political grouping. For example, if an Armenian should get into a dispute with a Turk, he had very little chance of having the dispute handled in a just manner. No Christians composed the juries at this time. It was very difficult then to have anyone consider his side justly because of the Turkish judge and the jury. The only way of asserting one's rights was to join a band and have the band fight for Justice. Oc course, a curious state of affairs developed. Each band in order to keep living would have to loot one of the other bands. There was almost constant warfare and bickering among them.
When an outlaw was taken ill, he frequently was carried back to the village from which he came, and left there in hiding until he was well enough to flee again. So, here and there, in the different houses would be various hidden outlaws.
I have never forgotten a sight that I witnessed from the balcony of our house which overlooked a large part of the village. One of the outlaws had been ill and had been hiding in the house of his mother. His presence became known to the authorities and a band of armed Turks (policeman) had been sent over to the city of Ismid and they surrounded the house. The outlaw got out of his bed and climbed up through the trap door onto the roof of the house armed with two revolvers and before he was finally killed, he succeeded in shooting five policemen from behind the chimney. All the roofs of these villages are sloping and are covered with red tile. I witnessed the entire affair on this roof. I could see the outlaw perched behind the chimney. The police finally shot him in the leg and he fell, but recovered himself as he was rolling down the sloping roof. When he reached the gutter of the roof, he was still alive and he had the strength to fire several shots in succession before the policemen finally shot him in the head, and he fell to the street below.
Another Funeral Procession
One night, one of the natives had gone out to his garden and had rashly decided to spend the night there. The next morning his friends found his mutilated body lying there and the brought him home, that is, brought home the remains of his body, which consisted of his shoulders and head.
Our house at that time was situated at the entrance of the village, and every funeral procession passed by our house to go down the road, which, as it left the village, extended along the ridge of a sloping country to the village cemetary. The Church was in the center of the village. The funeral procession started from the church and was headed by a group of acolytes, white-gowned boys singing. Then came a priest who was swinging incense. The priest was followed by an open bier carried on a stretcher. Two men carried the stretcher, one in the front and one in the back. This particular bier was only three feet long and I remember seeing the corpse laid out. The remains of the dead body lay on the bier, covered with a quilt and beneath the head was placed a pillow. The head appeared to be sleeping. The grotesque appearance of a full-grown man with inly his head and shoulders left, was the most awful sight that I have ever seen. It was very disquieting.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Another funeral procession, even more grotesque than the one above, was the funeral of an old hag who used to live in the village. The boys of the village always thought that she was a witch. She was bent almost double, had a very withered face, features thin and sharp, and had only one tooth in her mouth. She shuffled along the streets when she attempted to walk. She was half demented. Persons thus affected are regarded with considerable respect by the people of this country. They are really afraid of them and the boys always poke fun at them. This old hag was the victim of many hurled epithets as she passed in the streets.
Finally the old hag died. The Church would not recognize her and therefore would not bury her. Her body remained in the house for days and days. The rowdies of the town finally decided to have some fun. They made up a mock funeral procession, got the white clerical gowns, incense pots, got hold of an old bier and placed the body upon it. They sang ribald songs as they walked along. They did not walk very far, however, but began to run along the streets. When I saw them they were running down the street past our house and shouting to every one along the way. One of the men carrying the bier stumbled and fell. Some others ran over and picked up the body and flung it back on the bier. The buried her in a hole in the unconsecrated ground in the corner of the cemetary.
Haeckel
My interest in Natural History brought to my attention the interesting fact that an Armenian priest who inhabited the monastary of Armash some twenty miles from where I lived, had been the pupil of he famous Haeckel of Germany. Haeckel was to Germany what Huxley was to England, in furthering and popularizing Darwin's theory of the Origin of the Species.
There was nothing for me to do but to visit this priest and to learn from him about Haeckel. The trip was taken on horseback over an old stone road, through picturesque mountains which lay between N_____ and the Black Sea. We finally arrived at the gate of the monastery which was an ancient edifice, that stood alone on the peak of a mountain, surrounded by flowers and foliage, cultivated by the priests. There was a high wall built around the monastery, a stone-paved court with an ancient wall and doorway leading into it, giving the structure the appearance of an old-time fortress.
The library contained leather covered tomes, which dated back to the Middle Ages. The Father Abbot was most gracious in inviting us in and we spent two memorable days with him. Their dining room looked over the peaks of the neighboring hills and we could see, far off in the distance, glimpses of the Black Sea.
The erudition and learning of these priests is amazing. They have all travelled a bit too. The priest that I was especially interested in had spent three years in Jena with E_____ and also had attended lectures given by Haeckel at that marvelous seat of reformed learning, for you remember that the Duke of _______ protected Luther during the Reformation, an much later in our day when Haeckel's teaching of organic revolution was frowned upon by the Imperial family of Germany it was again _______ who served as host for the new reformer, Haeckel.
It is interesting to note that an asylum was founded at Jena in memory of Haeckel and the Duke of ________.
Haeckel, the scientific iconoclast, and E_______, the great religious Theologian, were boon companions and could be seen any day walking along the banks of the Saar River, talking and discussing one thing after another.
Haeckel, because of his scientific attainments, would have been called to a Chair in the University of Berlin if it had not been for his radical views on religion. So, here in this ancient monastery, in the interior of Asia Minor among many ancient facts and things, it was a wonderful experience for me to talk with a man who had studied at the feet of E_____ and Haeckel.
Sari Baba's Story
Sari Baba was a quaint old figure in the streets of the town. He was very bent, with rounded shoulders and a battered red face. He owned a vineyard about one hour's walk from the village and many of the stories he had to tell were delightful and interesting. One of these stories remains in my mind and it is the tale about a marvelous cherry tree in his orchard.
Sari Baba had been very much upset by noticing that one morning some of the heavily laden branches had been broken down and the cherries had been taken off the branches. He was so upset when he saw what happened to he cherry tree that he was determined to catch the culprit, as it was quite a custom of the village boys to wonder over the hills and help themselves to the fruits in the unprotected orchards. On this occasion, Sari Baba went out to the orchard early in the evening and waited in a hidden spot in the bushes where he could get a good view of the tree and the culprit or culprits.
As the night wore on, Sari Baba continued his watch. At times he began to doze off. After a long time, he suddenly was awakened by hearing a faint rustling in the bushes. The rustling seemed to come nearer and nearer, until he was able to perceive a dark figure, almost bent double stealthily moving toward the bushes and the cherry tree. As the figure approached the cherry tree, it stood up, and Sari Baba rushed from the bushes to the tree, and threw his arms around the upright figure. As it was reaching up to seize one of the branches, Sari Baba's hands met around the waist of the figure, - just as he was prepared to say, "Now, I've got you", - his open mouth was filled with hair - the pelt of a bear! The animal, surprised by Sari Baba, dropped on his four legs and scampered away and was much frightened.
Sari Baba was both surprised and frightened!
The Stone Road
There was an ancient road called "The Store Road" from across the mountains from Bardezag and over the mountains southward to the plains of Nicea. Parts of this road is now in total dis-use and is completely over-grown with woods. Some modern road is not much better than the old road, and in a gully down which the old road leads are the ruins of an ancient inn. The story goes that the Bishop of __________ who was on his way to take part in the series of discussions which ended in the formation of the Nicene Creed, spent one night at this Inn.
At this time the country was infested with robbers and brigands and, while the good Bishop was sleeping in a specially prepared room which they had for him on the second floor of the Inn, robbers crept in and for reasons which no one knows, cut off the heads of the Bishop's two donkeys. One donkey was white and the other donkey was black. The Bishop's servants were aroused after the deed had taken place and the went up and awakened the Bishop and told him what had taken place. The Bishop came down and ordered the servants and the inn-keeper to place the heads back on the severed necks of the donkeys. The servants hurriedly did this but in the dark. The Bishop pronounced incantations on the heads which had been placed back on the donkeys and the donkeys were brought back to life. The next morning however, to the consternation of all concerned, it was found that the white donkey had a black head and the black donkey, a white head!
Soldiers
"Coming soon"
Indian Rollers and Bee-eaters
I used to go out late in the afternoons and look for two species of birds, one called the Indian Roller. The Indian roller is brilliantly colored having bright green feathers on its body and reddish purple feather on the wing. The top of his head is also brilliantly colored. It is about the size of a pigeon and it is called roller, because at times when flying in the air it will tumble and roll over and over and over and at the time it is tumbling is the time to shoot it. This is a difficult feat.
The other bird is the Bee-eater. This bird is long beaked, somewhat smaller than the Indian-roller, with a bright orange breast and blue head and tail. Its wings are tipped with red. The natives consider it a pest because it eats the grapes and figs from the gardens. They frequently invaded the fig groves, and while there, it was considered the right thing to do, to shoot them. The Bee-eaters, however, were doing nothing but eating the insects which infested the gardens. Nevertheless, this bird was very good to eat. Frequently, after securing several of these birds, I would find myself at a distance from the village and would go to a hut of one of the watchers [ referred to in "The Drum" ], in a garden which was a favorite haunt of mine. This garden was on the steep side of a hill, which sloped down to a deep ravine and from here to a gurgling mountain stream. Opposite, towered hills and cliffs, heavily wooded. On my arrival at the hut I would run down and get a jug full of cold spring water from the nearby mountain spring and would build a fire. The watcher would supply the black bread and native cheese. A repast unequalled! Occasionally at the end of the meal my friend would take his flute and play the most weird and minor sounds which fascinate one in this country of weird and exotic surroundings.
[originally appended to The Drum and labelled "Another Story" ]
Our Hermit
There lived outside the town an old hermit who was a very familiar figure. The old man lived in the woods. He used to be attired in rags and always carried a bag over his back. He was a huge man and wore his hair unshorn. His hair was long, thin and gray and matted with twigs and dirt. He wore a beard that was extremely uncared for.
When he came to town, he used to go from house to house begging for alms. The housewives would give him a loaf of bread or a piece of pasterma, which was a sort of a smoked dried meat cut in thin slices for eating. They would also give him chunks of cheese, and after he had filled his bag, he would wander back to the big square close to our house at one end of the village, where he would begin to preach. After having put down the bag, he would stand there and a crowd would gather around him and then he would begin. Grown-up men, women and children would flock to hear him. They all listened to him attentively and did not sneer at him. He would always start off by telling them that they were sinners and in order to be saved they must repent and do good. He had an amazingly clear voice and well-rounded tones. He was utterly indifferent to the crowd to which he preached. His speeches were of various lengths, some lasted for hours. After finishing these speeches and feeling that he had performed his duty, he would again lift up his bag and go back to the woods. He always made a very formal departure by bowing to the crowd and then quietly wending his way back to his little hut in the center of the woods.
Means of Travel
Bardizag is on the northern side of a mountain which slopes down to the plain five miles beyond. This plain is bounded by the arm of the sea of Marmora. Ismid, the city of that district, at the opposite end of the Gulf, was the favorite summer resort of the Byzantine court. There are still ruins around Ismid of the old summer homes of the Byzantine aristocracy. The only means or way of crossing this Gulf was by rowboat at a place about three miles wide. The Turkish row boats are rather small and some are equipped with a sort of sail which is used if there is a high wind, but usually the boats are propelled by oars. On the northern side of the Gulf, opposite Ismid was the Iskele. Iskele is the Turkish rendering of the Greek word "shala" which is a sort of wharf built out from the shore to which the boats are moored. There was a little nest of huts with a coffee house and an inn. This constituted the "shala". Every time one goes out of the city, he must pass the customs and be examined by them. The city officials are in charge of this procedure. Before getting into one of the row boats to be taken across the Gulf one must pass by the custom officers. From there one rides in an open carriage for another five or six miles and finally reaches Bardezag.
There were two roads; one used in the summer and one in the winter. The road used in the summer was very dusty but good travelling if it was dry. The road we used was a very narrow one, a stone road, which was very very old. In some places many of the stones were missing and the huge holes were filled with mud and water. No carriages could go along this road. This was a real old Roman road. It had been repaired from time to time but repaired in a way identical with the way the Romans had built it. As the road was not very well kept, it was not used very much. I witnessed the shooting of a horse along this road one day. The horse in stepping from one stone to another slipped into one of the holes in the road and began to sink in the sucking, clay-like dirt. All efforts to get him out of the hole were futile. He tried to help himself but it was of no use. He was finally shot. Some weeks after this happened I went over to the place and found that only his skull remained. Jackals had eaten him and had scraped the bones clean in a very short time.
Trials and Tribulations
I had a horse on which I used to go riding on Friday evenings and return the next night. The horse was a small wiry animal, like the horses we breed in our mountains in the west. It was very sure-footed and wore peculiar iron shoes with a hole in the sole. This horse used to run instead of gallop; ran like a dog runs, and the way it kept itself from stumbling or falling while going over the loose stones of the dried river beds which are used as paths, is amazing. We used to ride up the side of the steep mountains and down deep ravines and the declivities of the hills until we reached the plain at the head of the Gulf. We would arrive there about nine o'clock in the evening at a true Turkish Inn.
The Inn was made of mud walls and straw on a wooden framework with a back door way at one end which led into a large room with a central aisle. The room had an earthen floor which extended to the door way from the opposite end of the room. Individual ojaks (fire pots) were given to each traveller. On each side of this aisle, which was from six to eight feet wide, was a wooden platform which extended to the side walls about two feet above the floor of the aisle. This constituted the Inn. The horses were stabled at one corner of the same hall, close to the doorway on either side and the warmth of the animals helped furnish the necessary heat on cold nights.
Each traveler brings with him his own bedding and I was always accoutered with a blanket. The innkeeper rents to each traveler a portion of the platform. If the traveler is lucky he will have a section up close to the horses and fireplace and his saddle bags and blankets on the portion which has been rented to him. For the ojaks we would be furnished live coals from the recess of the fireplace.In this way the traveler could cook his own meals. Charcoal kept burning in the big open fireplace. I used to carry with me rubber pads to put over my ears because the night sounds which consisted for the most part the deep snorts and snores of my fellow travelers were very disquieting. I also carried with me constantly a bottle of menthol, with which I would annoint my hands, face, neck, ankles, etc. before retiring. Even this was not sufficient at times to keep one from being molested by the night insects. One might be fortunate enough to have nothing more than fleas bother him, but huge bed bugs were ordinarily very much in order.
My First Ship
One day while a group of children were playing around the town, my attention was called to a ship in the Gulf. An unusual occurrence in those days! It was a really big steamer in our eyes. I had a toy telescope and looked at the ship through it. I was able to see, by means of the telescope, that the ship flew a British ensign on the stern. There was nothing to do but go down and get a closer view. We started off and went down the road. It was summer time and the group consisted of some five or six rag-a-muffin boys. The closer we drew to the ship, the more my heart would thump. It was such an exciting occasion. As we approached I saw that the boat was a tramp steamer. We could see a sailor leaning over the railing in idle curiosity watching our row boat. The boys insisted that I call out to the sailor and thought possibly he might invite us on board. After a good deal of hesitation and in a quivering voice I yelled, "Can we come on board?" You can imagine his amazement. The sailor saw nothing but a group of uncouth ruffian boys and he was astonished to hear an English speaking voice in the group. He immediately straightened himself up and said, "Come along." The gang-plank was let down and we all ran aboard. I went first and the little Armenian boys followed. I had been reading various nautical stories in the Boys' magazines and as I approached the sailor I knew exactly what to do, that is what a man has to do when he goes on a ship. Therefore I turned to the stern and smartly saluted. That simply took the crew by storm and there was nothing they would not do for us. They took us over the entire boat, much to our delight. We saw every part of it. I felt as though I was having a delightful dream. The wonderful sense of unreality about it all! It was with sinking hearts that we finally had to leave the ship and descend the gang-plank.
That experience was food for dreams for years to come!
Soldiers
An event that thrilled me very much when I was about eleven or twelve occurred one day when I lived in the village of ________, and my parents curiously enough gave me full liberty to mix with the village boys. I played with them, which is unusual with the folks in Turkey. I was just one of the boys. I have never forgotten an occasion when we saw two strange men coming up the road one day, late in the afternoon. We were playing at the main entrance of the village as these two strangers approached. I noticed that they were dressed in a uniform, a khaki-colored uniform, and carried knapsacks on their shoulders. From pictures which I had seen in the boys' news papers, I recognized these strangers as British officers. Of course, they were wearing the British uniform. All the children grouped around them and stood staring at them with their mouths wide open.
One cannot imagine the amazement of these officers on hearing an English speaking voice come from the midst of this group of rag-a-muffin children. I had addressed them in English! They could hardly believe their ears and grabbed me out of the group and began to ply me with questions as to where I lived, who my parents were, etc., etc. I immediately took them to my parent's house and they remained with us that night.
These two British officers were off on a jaunt and had decided to survey the country and had come to this village never dreaming that any fellow-countrymen might be living there. They knew that the majority of these villages were inhabited by natives only.
Nicaea
Nicaea was a walled town. Parts of the walls and some of the elaborate gateways are still standing. In the City there is an old Greek chair and along side of it an ancient planer-tree under the spreading bows of which it is said or we are told that the Bishops sat while they deliberated on the formation of the Nicene Creed. We wandered over the ruins but our attention was far more attracted to the innumerable Hoopoes which fluttered about and the gorgeous bee-eaters with their blue metallic plumage. Dozens of queerly clad natives followed us about and insisted upon digging holes in the ground and unearthing fake statuettes which they tried to sell us.
The road to Busa skirts the borders of the Lake and then along a fertile level ground and around the foot of Mount Olympus which towers over the city of Busa. Busa is about fifteen miles from the shore of the Sea of Marmora. A narrow railroad connects Busa with its seaport. This railroad was originally built by a French Company and later owned by a British Company. Both Companies were renowned for their inefficiency - of a sort which endeared them to the Turks, - although they have had the greatest admiration and respect for the extreme efficiency of G Companies in Asia Minor, they have always felt far more at home with various foreign companies of other nationalities who do not exert the kind of efficiency which instills fear. Busa lies in a broad inland valley almost completely surrounded by hills and one mountain and Mount Olympus. It is a truly ancient Turkish city made most picturesque by numerous tombs of illustrious sultans around which the houses of the town are clustered. The slopes around the City are completely covered with mulberry groves for silk is the chief industry of the town.
We spent three days in Busa as the guests of an Englishman who had a living room which was a veritable museum with lots of statuary and colored tiles plastered all over the walls.
Then we took one day to climb Mount Olympus, the top of which is always covered with a heavy bank of clouds. After a two hour tramp through mulberry groves, we came upon the loose sandstone ground with its sparse vegetation and encountered considerable difficulty in climbing through the heavy mist until we came to the top where the sky was clear above us and from where we looked down upon a broad sea of clouds, - a fitting spot, indeed, for the ancient Gods. The Greeks who lived in Asia Minor believed that on the top of this mountain lived the same Gods who lived on the top of the mountain of the same name on the Greek peninsula. It took us all of the afternoon and well into the evening to climb or clamber down and get back to the city. The next morning we started on our journey into the interior.
The roads are good in the summer but from the lack of a rock bottom ground, they are very bad in the winter. Through one section of the extending valley we skirted hills which were surrounded by the ruins of castles built by crusaders who were so entranced with the country that they decided to live there rather than go on with their original quest. All the way through Asia Minor to Palestine the traveler comes across the most unexpected spots which were occupied by bands of crusaders who lived their lives as robber barons very much in the same way that they lived in Europe. Two days later we arrived at Yeni Sheir. Upon arriving here, two of our party, unaccustomed to protracted horseback riding, felt that they had experienced enough in the interior and decided to cut short their journey. We saw them off on the train the next morning. The two of us who remained paid off two of our horsemen and then we started off in a northwest direction through wild country. The road became more and more rough and finally ended in mountain foot-paths through the forest.
We had been riding along getting glimpses through the trees of valleys and cliffs below us and had been feeling very much alone when suddenly we spied a horseman coming in our direction. This horseman passed us with only an inquiring glance and we noticed he was fully armed with a rifle across the pommel of his saddle and a loaded cartridge belt across his chest. After a few minutes riding over fallen logs which lay on either side of our path among the trees, we saw at first one horseman and then another as they passed us we noticed that they formed a barrier in case we should desire to retreat. My companion was the owner of the one revolver in our midst but one of our horseman quietly bade him hide it well away. Presently there appeared before us a caravan of horses headed by a richly caparisoned rider, and at the head of each horse walked a man leading the horse by the halter. The horses were all laden with boxes of tobacco leaves. We had stumbled on a band of smugglers carrying tobacco into the interior in the grown leaves where they are cured and sold without the government's firman. The leader of the caravan politely accosted us and from the conversation of the various horseman, we were told in no uncertain terms that our horses were to be requisited. I boldly stepped forward and engaged the leader in conversation. His surprise was great at hearing himself addressed by a foreigner in his own tongue. I told him that we were Ingliz. His curiosity was aroused probably by two things: one, the apparent lack of fear which, in truth, was very much present in our hearts but which we were fortunate not to exhibit on our faces although Mr. E___ said afterwards that he was trembling like an Aspen leaf; the second thing - Mr. E___'s camera which we showed to him, and it was mr. E___'s inspiration when he saw the Chief glance at his camera to speak to me in English and offer to take his photograph. This offer I translated and the Chief then invited us to dismount. He did likewise and then he ordered his men to stand behind us and Mr. E___ stepped forth and moved his camera and took two pictures of the Chief and his men. These photographs never came out for Mr. E___ was truly shaking. He was not able to compose himself even to taking a picture. We explained to the Chief that our trip to the Coast was a most urgent one and that indeed it would be a most unchivalrous act and unfriendly one to deprive us of our steeds. He proved himself to be a good sport and after engaging himself in conversation regarding the politics of the day, he courteously bade us good-bye giving the order for his men to proceed and left us standing there gazing as they disappeared around the bend and into the depths of the forest beyond.
We then rode on through an intensely picturesque wild country of a sort which one would hardly expect to meet within a region which was once so thickly populated and must be considered as being the longest known in history of any land.
The Flag
The turkish government was always suspicious of my father residing in the Armenian village of Bardezag. The village contained 10,000 inhabitants, every one of whom with the exception of the lone "mudir" and his two servants were Armenians.
Every once in so often the Turkish Governor of N_____ felt it incumbent upon himself to quarter in the village some Turkish troops. These troops pitched their tents on a rough plateau to one side of the village. The excuses offered for their sojourn was to protect the Christian inhabitants from possible attacks of the neighboring Turkish villages. The real reason for their sojourn, however, was to have the soldiers fed.
I was a patriotic Britisher. We had no flag but with my mother's help and a colored plate and an old edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica and a sewing machine, we made a flag which every once in so often I raised on the home-made pole on the tiled roof of our house. The pole was fastened with wires to the chimney.
A massacre had occurred some four hours distance away. Upon hearing this, my father had immediately gone over to look into it. The troops at the time were quartered in the village. Mistaken zeal induced me to place the flag at half mast.
When my father returned that night, he found our house surrounded by troops and found me valiantly defending the portals. I knew that a house occupied by an Englishman in Turkey was, in truth, his castle, and it was entirely logical not to allow any unwanted person to enter. So - I had kept the soldiers at bay all that day. As my father approached the house he met an officer who was beside himself with rage at having been prevented from entering the house and tearing down the flag. My father in true diplomatic fashion invited the officer in and had a sumptuous repast prepared for him. Finally this calmed his rage and induced the officer to call off his men and retire to his quarters.
I was sent to take in the flag and then sent up to bed.
The Customs
I had several military toys consisting of a toy cannon, several pistols and wooden swords. One day we received a letter from Sir Philip Carey, the British Ambassador at Constantinople, stating that his aid-de-camp wished to pay us a visit. This aide was an old friend of the family's of many years before in E___. In due time he arrived and during the dinner explained the reason for his visit.
The Embassy had received a notification from the Port that Bardezag was a hot-bed of rebellion and that my father's house was a regular arsenal with arms and ammunition being kept there against the time the Armenians would rise up armed and revolt and shoot up the country side. Mr. D___'s friendly visit was to ascertain the truth of the situation and in the event my father really did have any armaments worth mentioning, it was his advice to hand them over to him so that in this way the government would have no grounds for suspicion.
For the fun of the thing, my father conducted Mr. D___ into the nursery and gave him two of my toy revolvers so that he could show them to Sir Philip Carey. The next day Mr. D___ departed for Nicea where he would take the train for Constantinople. In or upon coming into Nicea one must pass through the customs. Mr. D___ had a pass to carry a revolver which he usually carried belted to his waist, but on this occasion he had absent-mindedly placed his revolver together with my toy pistols in a hand valise. As an Embassy official, Mr. D___ on leaving the boat to go through the Customs started to walk through without paying any attention to the custom officers since Embassy officials ordinarily have the courtesy of the country and can go through Customs without having their luggage examined. However on this trip, very much to his surprise, he was stopped and an officer seized his grip. Mr. D___ pushed the Customs-man away and started to go on his way but he was stopped again by several Customs-men who tore the bag from his grasp and carried it to a room upstairs.
Mr. D___ was a man not slow to wrath. Instead of going after his bag he rushed out of the Customs-house and made straight for the Governor's palace. He demanded an immediate audience with the Governor which he obtained. He described the affair of the Customs-men in very forceful and effective terms. The Governor was most apologetic and offered to make amends as far as possible. Mr. D___ immediately demanded the instant return of his grip with all its contents intact. The Governor sent his servants to the Customs-house and requested Mr. D___'s bag. All the Customs-house officials were also brought back to the Governor's house. Mr. D___ pointed out the head Customs-man and the three other men who helped him. The Governor then called in his chief whipper. The culprits were then stripped to the waist and were badly beaten. Mr. D___ finally interceded for the sake of the writhing victims who indeed repented of their sins.
Apparently placated, Mr. D___ made his way back to the railroad station where he was in time for the train to take him back to Constantinople.
The whole affair exhibited the astuteness of Turkish officialdom. The Customs officials who had received the beating were very well paid for taking their punishment which was all a put-up job. The Turks knew that by notifying the British Ambassador that the Embassy would send someone to Bardezag to enquire into the matter before an official search was made, and they also knew that if my father did have anything that in the way of armaments had been forbidden, that he would hand it over to Mr. D___ who in turn would take it back with him to Constantinople to the British Ambassador. They therefore played this trick of having minor officials break the rules of ambassadorial courtesy by examining the Ambassador's aide's bags and then making amends for it by severely punishing the poor officials.
All that was discovered was an Ambassador's revolver and two toy pistols belonging to me, my father's child.
Saribaba
Saribaba was a picturesque old figure in the village. He was very poor and a great talker. He loved to visit our home. He would come in and would knock upon our large iron knocker and would when admitted remove his shoes and would then allow himself to be conducted into the drawing room where he would be seated on a chair.
Usually he did not come to talk but to eat, and the servants knew that, for a very short time after his arrival a tray would be carried in and on it placed thick slices of bread heavily buttered and also a large cup of coffee and milk.
After eating his meal, Saribaba would rise and bow to whomever might be in the room and then gracefully depart.
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Materials, stories or other information in this page may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from David Landowne, nor may it be sold or otherwise transferred to a third parties. Mr. David Landowne, Email: david@landowne.org provides all those stories at http://landowne.org/RChambers.html.
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Oldtimer Pictures of Bahcecik- Bardizag-Izmit, Turkey
I will share two pictures taken during 1900 at Bahcecik [Bardizag] during Ottoman times in Izmit City, Turkey. Those pictures are sent me by a friend of me, Mr. Greg [Krikor] Mukhalian, whose family was from Bahecik. Mukhalians now live in USA.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
I will share two pictures taken during 1900 at Bahcecik [Bardizag] during Ottoman times in Izmit City, Turkey. Those pictures are sent me by a friend of me, Mr. Greg [Krikor] Mukhalian, whose family was from Bahecik. Mukhalians now live in USA.
With his written consent, I have right of posting it for only and solely sharing knowledge and information about past times of our surrounding places and districts. However for whatever aims it could not be copied, recopied, distributed, redistributed, used or reused on any written documents, texts, undergraduate certificates, bachelor's degrees, bachelor's levels, books or in any kind of digital or electronically environments, either they are regarded as profit-getting or non-profit getting or educational purposes.
Bahcecik District is an older Ottoman Armenian town, which takes place on the southern hillstop of Izmit City, Turkey. Its older name was Bardizag in Armenian. I do not know what stands for it! This town was resettled by Greek Exchange Migrants after 1924. Today it is, along its nearby dwelling places, a resort area, especially after Marmara Quake happened on Aug 17th, 1999.
Krikor [Grek] Mukhalian has come across a few pictures of Bahcecik I have taken on Internet. His granddad Krikor Mukhalian has left from there through Basiskele to Izmit Older Train Station. By train they have passed through Bilecik, Eskisehir and Konya for arriving to Israel. Afterwards they have gone to USA.
He has sent me two precious pictures of Bahcecik taken during 1900. The first one depicts Bahcecik’s general view and the latter shows today’s Soguksu Picnic area. All thanks go to Krikor Mukhalian. I am obliged him for his kind sharing those pictures with us. He has reflected mirror to shed light on past times of Izmit and its villges.
© Copyright Righted To Erkan Kiraz erkankiraz@yahoo.com Through Greg Mukhalian koko557@yahoo.com All Rights Reserved.
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