Molasses and A clove of garlic (short storie)

Molasses and A clove of garlic (short storie)



by Tülay Akkoyun

‘‘No, your honor, I am not hostile to the women.’’

‘‘No, I do not think that I have threatened. ’’

‘‘ I do not remember, your honor, I do not remeber if I said those words that you disclosed.’’

‘‘ Yes, I have psychological problems, I remained in the hospital for that a couple years ago, then they said it can not be fixed.’’

I prayed to the God all night long to take my life away. I wished them to find me dead in my bed. What does that mean to live if my ex-wife and even my childs does not want me and I can not stand against the life without getting their trust back?

‘‘ Yes, I have already some convictions in the past.’’
‘‘All right, your honor,I will be treated again.’’

What will it work for ?I tried, but it did not work, and does not work, I could not overcome it. My livers had failed and now my lungs.. I can not quit that addiction. I have been spitting blood for a while, in the color of molasses. Spitting; blood, molasses, a clove of garlic, molasses, garlic, a clove . ( sound of spitting)…..

I go to buy my drink in furthest grocery, just because of threatening the nearest grocery store with a knife. I am drinking all night long. I can not sleep. Whenever I close my eyes, I see the boiler, molasses, my ex-wife,Hatice and and my childs. So messed up!

I fall in sleep on the chair which is close to the entry till the morning.

I am drinking…

I am waiting the glory of my death. I lost many things in my life. My wish was to gain back all of them one by one. But doesnt happen, never happened…

My elder son refused me a long years ago. I was struggling for not to lose the youngest one. But I lost him, either. I disclosed everything in the last court trial. I do not think if the judge believed in me. But what could happen more whether he believes or not? Either I will go to remain in the hospital and be treated or go to the jail. There is no difference between both of them for me. Both means to be stucked in somewhere…

‘‘I dont remeber, your honor!’’
‘‘ Yes, I went their home.’’
‘‘ It was so, I was drunk.’’

‘‘ I jıst intended to talk , but she was feeling so disgust at me that I lost my control. I sneaked in and they were eating their meal in the kitchen. I was telling them not to have my child felt cold towards me. That was I told them that I lost already my elder son and not to let my youngest one to remove from me. I do not remember when I grabbed the knife. I had tried to slit the throat of my father in law. But bless the God, he did not die though I can not do such a thing, Your Honor. I love him very much. I broke up with my wife but I went on keeping touch with them. Every morning, I stopped by them and asking if they had any desires or not.’’

‘‘I do not remember.’’
‘‘ No, I do not remember.’’

I long for my death in the shelter they stucked me. They gave me this shelter to be able to get rid of me. The rest of the all is under the responsibility of my ex-wife who divorced me and my elder son. Did they really domicile me by the edge of my brother in law and my father in law for just because of that they thought of me ?Do they concern about me even a little bit? Do they sometimes phone and ask me? I am calling them but no response given. Neither my sons nor their mother…

‘‘ I am living alone, your honor, my family is far away from me; my mother, my siblings, even further.’’

What might happen if my mother was with me? She does not love me. I don’t love, either. I have been aware of it since my childhood. My siblings have always been more important than me for her. Everybody wants to get rid of me. I am inviting them but nobody comes; they use the distance as an excuse. They do not want to to see me.

( He is sighing…) I had friends when I was young. We were loving each other. Occassionally, we were boozing , and then singing songs. For some reason, one of those song made me cry, the one beginning with ‘ My life passed away in vain’. My life is same like the life that the song says. I lost all my family; my childs, my siblings, my father, my mother, all of them and one by one. For the sake of what ?

I lost much more since I attempted keeping on at them when I realised that they don’t love me.

‘‘ I don’t have a lawyer, Your Honor. I don’t have the money to hire a lawyer.’’

Having read in the newspapers about me, Sevda called me.

‘’The LOVE, the love is no worth of crying.’’ (the lyrics of turkish song)


That love was along years ago, and felt to a famous a singer of those times. The damn woman, could not resign from the stage, for the reason of not trusting me. We met in the car while passing through the Bosphorus Bridge. And I just left her right over there, in the middle of the bridge when I stopped by. And now, Sevda is also far away from me, as the love inside my heart! Someone had written even a song for the love of us. Is it not really worth of crying for me? No, It is not….
Having read in the newspaper, Sevda called me and said, ‘‘ I don’t believe that you attempted to homicide your father in law.’’ She said that she believes me. But why didn’t she believe in me years ago?

‘‘ All right, Your Honor, I will come back again one month later.’’

How fast the time passed. The verdict is going to be taken in the session held in tomorrow. They will take me either to the hospital or to the jail. What makes difference?
Does not both mean to be stucked in somehwere ? Wish the God take my life away in my own shelter! No desire to see tomorrow! Want to pass away with all my sins and regrets !

I am feeling cold. But I could warm up if I got some sips of drink. I have been spitting for a long time, ‘ in color of molasses’. However, I hate molasses and so do garlic. Garlic, in the taste of molasses and the molasse in the taste of garlic… I took on this secret alone after the death of my father. Whenever I throw up blood, the taste of molasses comes out. Then,I even hate myself twice more.

They don’t even accept me to the hospital.
The captivity had passed on me like a heritage since my childhood.
As a trace of the muder that was commited in my childhood.

I dont know why I did. I was a child. I had not been able to walk till age of four. I had seen my dad when I was four. My father was released from the prison when I was four. I was able tto walk right after I had seen him.

We were a modest family. We had our fields, vineyard, and olive grove though it was enough for us. That summer, I will be about seven. Hatice, the lover of everybody, was the youngest one at home.

It was our turn to boil down molasses in the village. Our relatives and my family were working collaboratively to cut the grapes and send them to the grape juice center. They were smashing them by their feet and then leaving them aside to cool them. While they were cooling, there were consisting of overflowing bubbles above the boiler. Together with my five-year-old sister,Hatice, we were licking the overflowing bubbles consisting on the molasses. Suddenly, I pushed her into the boiler.

Why did I do it?

I don’t know.

She was struggling, and I was scared, then I ran away, I hid and watched her secretly.

She was brought out with a great diffuculty, and as the clothes on here were taken off, her skin was being peeled as well. They did not pour the molasses in the boiler into anywhere, as they were afraid that it would summon death. They filled it into the cans and then put those cans in the corner of barn. Cursed molasses !


When we ran out of supplies such as food and gasoil, my father, without permission from my grandmother, mixed the cursed molasses with the clean one and filled them into four cans and loaded them to the mule. By taking me, he set off and finally we arrived to the town.
After wandering around little bit, we came across a seller. Emptying the cans into the barrels that we will sell , a particle of it, like a clove garlic caught on the eye of buyer. My father took it away from his eye in a quick attempt and swallowed it.. One of the front teeth of Hatice was such as pearl. When the seller of molasses asked: “What’s that?”, He said: “Honey of molasses” and dropped the subject.

We didn’t discuss this subject again neither in the way back nor as long as my father lived. We just kept silent. Both of us…
I damned with the cursed molasses, too.
The court will give a verdict tomorrow. I’m scared. I’m coming to end, my own end. I may pass out there.
I am spitting blood. I can’t eat, either. I have tried to eat a slice of cheese. Still feeling the sour smell mixed with beer in my mouth. Then I vomited, vomited and vomited. I throw up in the color of molasses. Cursed molasses…
“Ok, Your Honor, I’ll stay in hospital” I will say tomorrow morning. Going to the prisoon means death,too.
I am ashamed. They think that I also lost my sense of shame as the all of my other values. In fact, what my unique wish is not to see tomorrow. They don’t know. I lived with the charge of a sin that was committed in my childhood, like a knot tied to the gallows. Whole my life, I hung myself with the knot which should be pulled long years ago. I could not succeed, could not…
Through the nine months that gave up drinking alcohol, I used to take long trips in every morning. I believed that I could achieve this time. I used to walk till the forest. In bazaar days, I used to stop to eat pancake in the bazaar and have a talk with sellers and taxi drivers. Once a driver in the taxi stand said to me, “You are such a good man when you don’t drink. Should stay like this, my brother!” I promised, I would achieve.
Never happened, never happened, never happened
While trying to get back the things that I lost, I got deeply lost in life. At one time, I was arrested for the things that I embezzled, as to make my loved ones feel happy. When I was released,the life itself ruined me as I hoped to get my strength back. When I was trying to get my strength by force with money, the ones who gained the power of money moved away one by one. I found out that love can’t be bought with money when I lost my elder son. I supposed to learn in my passion towards Sevda that rushing at someone doesn’t mean to love. However, that love stayed only a theme of a song. Even, she didn’t call me for a long time. I created all of them in my dreams. Maybe there was no one called Sevda. I made up. Sevda was a tale that I amused myself for years, just like Hatice whom, I thought, would revive in a tale, years ago.