My Village

My father left our car on the right side of the asphalt road. The car suddenly continued to move along the road loudly, and the sound was coming from outside. We were close to a place filled with yellow wheat. There wasn't a drop of water in the stream nearby that ran alongside the road. Between the crop fields, there were trees that did not exceed the size of both hands. We were about to see the minaret of the mosque. Now there was a very small path. It seemed cute to me because that was where my grandma was born. Many of my relatives come to this village during the holidays. Being with them gives me peace and happiness. Our village consists of 50 houses. No one lives in the village during the winter, but people fill the houses during the holidays. Here we were; this was our village. I had aunts and uncles waiting in front of the door. We all came home together and put our things in our room. After a little chat, we ate our meals, and then we went to our village house, which belongs to our family and has a bird's-eye view of the village. The guests who come to our village stay there. Our village has hundreds of years of history from the Ottoman period. The middle part of these hills, surrounded by hills on three sides in the shape of a bowl, is also village land. According to what my father told me, there was even a school in the village because the population was high when he was young, and even its small one-story building still stands empty. In those years, agriculture and animal husbandry were practiced; now, only agriculture stands out. Villagers live in the city during the winter and come here only for holidays and planting. Of course, everyone meets in the village at weddings. Like village weddings in our country, the wedding that starts on Friday ends on Sunday. For three days, the host of the wedding treats the guests with prepared meals. Men's and women's entertainments are held separately. On the third day, the wedding ends with the bride being taken from the girl's house.

Young people and children come together to play games unique to our city, such as hide-and-seek and catching bees. The historical past of our village dates back to the years when Anatolia first belonged to the Turks. There are graves of our ancestors who settled in our village during those years and whose origins are rooted here. In the district where our village is located, a fair is established for six months of the year and serves as a transit point for trade caravans. Now it's time to return. This time, when we looked out from the rear window of the car, the minaret of the mosque disappeared, and we said goodbye to our village.

Nehir Sare Tengerlek