ODE TO THE BURGAZ ISLAND
read in Turkish
Island state of mind
Whether it's the azure Caribbean, the idyllic Aegean islands, or the turquoise Mauritius, islands hold a universal allure for everyone of us. Unlike artificial borders on land, the most natural boundary of life is water, which adds to the inherent charm of island living. The island's unique rhythm and rituals, the liberating sense of detachment from the mainland, the feeling of seclusion, and the rejuvenating catharsis brought on by the flowing waters all contribute to its magnetic appeal. Stepping foot on an island feels like shedding the weight of the entire world, and a profound sense of relief washes over us.
For us Istanbulites, the Princes' Islands offer a refuge where we can escape from the burdens we wish to leave behind, if only for a day. Sait Faik, the most celebrated inhabitant of Burgaz Island, wrote in his story "Life Outside the City Walls": "To leave the city is to rid ourselves of our own history." "Our memories, loves, friendships, betrayals, kindness, and wickedness, our misery, our disgrace, all remain within the city’s confines. But here, we find solace amidst the trees, fruits, vegetables, and animals. Behold the walnut, fig, mulberry, plum, and hackberry trees..." (…) "Lie down under the shade of the walnut trees! You will kick your troubles away! Sleep!"
Gazing at the islands from Bostancı bestows a unique pleasure, a delight exclusive to modern times.Burgazada boasts a picturesque location, offering views of Heybeli Island, Kınalı Island, and Kaşık Island – a true stroke of luck! Every islander, regardless of their abode, believes that their own island is the one and only. Allow me to introduce you to the Burgaz Island, and you can decide for yourself if it's special or not.
The Burgaz Island
The Greek name of the island is Antigoni, derived from Demetrius, the successor and commander of Alexander the Great's father. Throughout the Roman period, the islands in the Marmara Sea earned the name "Princes' Islands" due to their usage as exile locations, aiming to prevent the Byzantine royal family members from claiming the throne. Hence, we use the term "Byzantine Intrigue" to describe situations or political environments involving intricate and secretive political schemes and plots for a good reason.
Despite changing hands, these islands remained the residential area of the non-muslim community during the Ottoman era. How can we overlook Burgaz in the travel literature of Evliya Çelebi, the most entertaining pen of Travel literature? In the initial volume of his 12-volume travelogue centered on Constantinople, he recounts the prosperous boat owners residing on this island, predominantly Greeks, and highlights the abundance of goats and rabbits while mentioning the seaside castle. The inspiration for the island's Turkish name arises from the tower of Panormos Castle on the shoreline. In Greek, the word for tower is “pyrgos," which transformed into "burgaz" in Turkish.
Once, this place served as a haven for fishermen who earned their livelihood from the sea. Fishing boats and the fragrance of flowers were a constant presence; while baskets of flowers headed to Istanbul, many islanders lived and passed away here without ever setting foot in Istanbul. With the commencement of Şirket-i Hayriye ferries' voyages to the island, it gradually transformed into a sought-after summer destination among the middle-class Istanbullites. The early Republican period of island life was vividly etched into our collective memory, thanks to Sait Faik, an author who deeply identified with the island. Numerous of his books have been translated into English.
Icon of the island: Sait Faik
Seagulls, fishermen, bicycles, cats, picnickers, anise-scented tables, puffy pastry, wooden mansions with shutters, bougainvillea shades, and kitsch plastic flower diadems, all encapsulate the essence of present-day island life. However, it is through the pen of Sait Faik that the island's past, which we haven't personally witnessed, comes to life.
Originally from Adapazari, his family - the Abasiyanik - settled in Istanbul in 1924 and first in Şişli (1934), then on Burgazada (1938), where they became homeowners. These opportunities allowed Sait Faik to lead a life with one foot on the island and the other in the city, although it was a fluctuating one. His stories and poetic style were centered around nature, the everyday lives of ordinary people, and the city's haunting nightmares, breathing fresh life into our storytelling. While he drew inspiration from Istanbul and considered Beyoğlu "the heart of Istanbul," he realized that he couldn't bear the gloom of post-World War II Istanbul, which was no different from any European metropolis. He felt unable to adapt to the city's new value system. Thus, increasingly, he gravitated towards his island life, embracing nature and cherishing his fisherman friends. As Istanbul underwent transformation, so did he, and the reflection of this change inevitably appeared in his writings.
Sait Faik, the "green-eyed, purple-lipped, and squinting blonde" as Ece Ayhan described him, lived and wrote on the island for almost 20 years. His love for humanity embraced even the most ruthless, evil, and selfish aspects of human nature. He revered life in all its goodness and wickedness, never allowing us to forget this reality. Shortly before his death, he attended literary matinees at Darüşşafaka High School, which led him to donate all his assets to the Darüşşafaka Foundation. Since 1955, the Foundation has been honoring our literature and writers by awarding the Sait Faik Story Award to the best story of the year. The Museum House, opened after restoration in 2013, fills us with immense pride.
Migration: The song of the Yaya
Whenever Turkey has a conflict with Greece, as the islanders say, it's always the Istanbul Greeks who suffer the most. The recurring tension, erupting every ten or twenty years, results in a continuous loss of the Greek population. Fortunately, Sait Faik passed away almost a year before the September 6-7 events of 1955, sparing him from witnessing the looting and lynching.
Have you ever wondered what happened to Stelyos Hrisopulos, the man who lent his name to the story "Stelyos Hrisopulos Ship," and his grandson after the turmoil of September 6-7?
The fact that the story was not approved for publication might indeed be an indication of the stormy days ahead. Surprisingly, the story portrays the cruel sinking of the boat named after Stelyos Hrisopulos by other children. If Sait Faik had lived longer, he would undoubtedly have been among the Turks who fiercely resisted the looters attempting to reach the island with their boats during those two days of unrest.
Furthermore, if he had lived longer, he would have composed a heartfelt song for the 86-year-old Greek grandmother who had never set foot in Istanbul but was forced to immigrate to Greece. I believe he would have titled it "The Song of the Yaya," yaya meaning "grandmother" in Greek.
Do you know what happened to Stelyos Hrisopulos? Fazıl Say took over the story from Sait Faik and gave life to Stelyos again in his music piece called "Remembering Sait Faik." The work commissioned by IKSV on the 60th anniversary of Sait Faik's death was staged on Burgaz Island with a premiere in 2014.
Knowledge transmission, I think, is our species' most valuable asset. Written records of important social transformations are not always sufficient; oral narratives based on memory also need to be included among the reliable sources of historiography. Nilüfer Uzunoğlu documented what happened after Sait Faik's death ina documentary called "Antigoni, Little Island, Our Life" (2012). It opens with a poem by the writer Engin Aktel: "Come *Yanakimu (*Dear Yannis), come to the land you were born at least once. Bring Eleni, Yorgo, and Manolaki with you."
The September 6-7 events of 1955 were followed by the 1974 Cyprus crisis. Those who refused to leave in '55 were forced to leave. After decades, the children of Burgaz, who filled their pockets with soil and flowers from the Hristos Hill (now called Bayrak Hill) as they left, held a meeting on the island in 2012. This documentary tells the stories of those who came to this meeting - the ones who left and the ones who stayed. Uzunoğlu dedicated the film to her family of Thessaloniki immigrants.
Burgaz: Just another nostalgic Greek story?
So, did the story end when the Greeks left? Has it now become just another beloved pocket of Istanbul, evoking mere nostalgia? Can we envision the island beyond the veil of nostalgia? Nostalgia, a Greek word composed of "nostos" (return) and "algos" (pain), reminds us that those who were forced to emigrate from these lands didn't return for decades or perhaps never returned at all. Returning to the island and reminiscing about the past must be painful, but their absence also leaves an emptiness that stirs nostalgia for a bygone era among us, too.
Yet, it is heartening to see that the island remains one of Istanbul's most cosmopolitan neighborhoods. Here, you can listen to Sabahat Akkiraz's Alevi songs or attend chill-out concerts at Peyote Cennet Bahçesi. The presence of both a synagogue and a cemevi, still in operation, symbolizes the island's diverse heritage. Greek can still be heard flowing from windows that open to the streets, and on the way to the market, one might come across women who have visited the church to pray. Additionally, a charming mosque graces a pleasant street on the island. Austrian Lazarist nuns, Ahıska Turks, Karaim Jews, Erzurum Kurds, Istanbul Armenians, and many others consider the island their home. The island's current story, woven with the identities of over 20 different ethnic groups, is captured in another documentary titled "Near Island Far Island, Burgaz Island.” This documentary tells a story of reconnection through the friendship between the late Turkish actor Cüneyt Türel and the Burgaz native Greek poet Emilios Yorgos Eden.
Evolutionary Anthropology reveals that the human species feels peaceful, happy, and secure in groups of no more than 150 people and can establish meaningful relationships. Perhaps it is time to return to living in smaller groups, and Burgazada serves as a beautiful testament that this model can indeed work!
* Hillsider Magazine # 88, Fall 2017