It's Just Winter...

Winter is the hardest of all seasons. This is why, even when mentioned in poems and songs, it always speaks of coldness; of separation in romance, of yearning in migration. It never reflects joy, nor does it tell of happiness. When I think of winter, beyond the idyllic image of pure white snow blanketing the streets, a shudder passes through me; I freeze. Furthermore, the winter season carries bitter realities: poverty, the tragedy of people living on the streets, the survival battle of the creatures with whom we share this world, and the resistance of workers stripped of their livelihoods. In short, winter is fierce; one must resist. If it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.

The poet Gülten Akın, while describing her state in a verse, defined it as: "Beni sorarsan, kış işte" (If you ask after me, it's just winter). These lines became the title of this piece. A couple of words are entirely sufficient to make a person pause and reflect; to realise that trying to live while standing against all this poverty, exploitation, starvation, injustice, and inequality is as challenging as winter itself. I began questioning these matters, reflecting on the beauty and the hardship of the seasons, at a very tender age. Perhaps this is the reason I could never bring myself to love winter. For as long as I can remember, my favourite season has been autumn. As Cemal Süreya beautifully put it: "Autumn is art, the rest are merely seasons." I suppose mine was a way of falling in love with a season, with the harmonious dance of colours.

When I was a secondary school student, I was sitting on the upper deck of a red double-decker bus, heading home after school. The bus had pulled up at a stop to take on passengers. I was staring out of the window. Whenever I rested my head against the glass, I would begin to watch the surroundings, drifting into distant thoughts. I used to think about how the vast majority of people never pondered anything beyond the frantic rush of their daily routines; what had happened a century ago, who had arrived, who had departed, what wars had been fought, what peaces made, what romances lived, or what separations endured—it hardly concerned anyone. People thought of absolutely nothing else save sprinting towards the basic needs of their individual lives.

Suddenly, waking from my thoughts and returning to reality, my eyes caught a man who had covered himself with brown pieces of cardboard; he was asleep on a bench, his shoes torn, covered from head to toe in dirt and grime... He was clearly freezing. The season was winter. I was so deeply moved that upon reaching home, I immediately recorded what I felt in the notebook where I wrote almost every day. My heart simply couldn't bear to see human beings in such a wretched state. I was emotional, and deeply sensitive. That is to say, a desire to offer a remedy, to do something, would pass through me, and being unable to help would grieve me intensely. The bus had moved on from that stop; the man with his tangled beard, wrapped in cardboard trying to stay warm, carried on sleeping on the bench. I went home to my warm house. He remained inside my notebook, which I still preserve as a memory. Winter, on that day, had shown its coldest countenance.

In the city where I grew up, it rarely snowed; neither schools nor roads would close, and life carried on in its "normal" flow. For this reason, I didn't know the hardship of snow, yet I never found it romantic either. For instance, I never harbored desires to go skiing, climb snow-capped mountains, or skate on ice rinks. Not because I coddled my own life, but simply because activities limited to the wealthy and "that" world never held any attraction for me. Nowadays, middle-class people can engage in these activities too. Although social classes mingle within this wretched era where everything has lost its meaning, it doesn't alter the reality that the impoverished and the working class cannot even begin to imagine such pursuits, let alone afford them. Moreover, when you look at the prices, winter grows even colder in my mind. No thank you, mate! If I am to have some winter fun, I would rather jump on a skateboard in the street like the neighbourhood kids.

Speaking of "neighbourhood kids", when winter arrives, my mind goes to the children. When school is about to start, the hardships begin too. People wrestling with the struggle to make ends meet fall into the despair of being unable to afford a single winter coat or a pair of shoes for their children. I think of impoverished children who can't find shoes, walking back and forth to school freezing in the bitter cold; of street children wrapping themselves in cardboard or hugging an animal friend as they sleep. "Ah!" I say, "let this world cease to turn if even a single child is left to freeze!" It is glaringly obvious that states, those at the head of "immense" nations, do nothing to remedy these crises while staying warm in their homes during winter. Theirs is nothing but empty talk! They bellow, they shout, but they never rescue their people from poverty. Thus, those living in despair, those freezing during the cold winter days, carry on multiplying.

When I think of winter, I think of the elderly too. People with no one left in the world. Those counting down the days to complete their lifespan alone in their houses or in care homes. It is said they feel the cold far more acutely. For this reason, in my mind's eye, I always see them with a blanket spread across their knees. This imagery is beautiful. However, the realities of life are ugly. Some people have grown old and are left entirely alone. On a bitter winter day, an elderly uncle who left his house in a village in Çanakkale lost his way and froze to death in the cold. This report hit the headlines just like that. After being found by authorities, he was rushed to hospital, where he passed away. No human being should ever endure such a death. The state has utterly failed on this front as well.

Are there romantic sides to winter? Like warming up while sipping wine by a fireplace? Or holding hands with your beloved as you slide down the snow? Metin Altıok, in his poem Kar (Snow), addresses his lover, emphasizing the despair and the scarcity brought by winter: "-My love, if only you were by my side! There is snow in the days we live through. Despair has enveloped us, famine and devastation are on the agenda." A person warms up through affection in freezing weather; that is how one endures winter, scarcity, and darkness. Tell me, beyond watching the snow from a window, what is there to love about this season? Then again, there is that magnificent movement from Vivaldi's The Four Seasons—only this can truly warm my soul within the chill of an icy winter. And there are poems, my absolute necessities... one of those poems is Kış Bile (Even Winter).

Years ago, a package arrived in the post one day. I received a few poetry books from people whose faces I had never even seen, distant yet connected deeply through the heart. I cannot describe the joy I felt that day. What is there in this life that touches a person's soul as much as subtle kindnesses? One of the volumes I received was a poetry book by Süreyya Berfe. Through this occasion, I discovered Süreyya Berfe for the very first time. This short poem describing winter was carved into my heart: "This year the trees blossomed early, from the lowlands to the heights; winter understood and retreated, so that the faces of the poor might smile, it moved its hand quickly." If they can survive the winter, the poor will live, and the children will grow.

Once again, winter is knocking at our door. Before it even arrives, I am consumed by thoughts. I wonder what catastrophes, what sorrows will be endured this winter. For winter knows no justice. It is a master of class division. When it arrives like a debt collector, it will come for the destitute; what with water, electricity, and gas bills, some will try to keep warm by lighting a stove in a single room. The words of Aşık Mahzuni Şerif will prove true once more: "İnce İnce Bir Kar Yağar Gariplerin Üstüne" (Flakes of snow fall gently upon the destitute). Indeed, the snow will rain down upon the destitute yet again; and they will search for a doorway, a deserted building to take refuge in.

The colour of poverty shifts according to the cities we live in. Sait Faik captures this beautifully in his story Birtakım İnsanlar (Certain People). The narrative unfolds in Istanbul. Young men work as porters or servants; when evening falls, they take refuge in all-night coffeehouses, sleeping there for a mere five piasters; / "Brother," he said, "we sleep in the all-night coffeehouses in Tophane. We are all fellows working as porters or servants. But we live with our honour. What can we do? We earn a few piasters. At night, we give five piasters to the coffeehouse keeper and sleep in a corner. What else can we do? How can we afford hotels? The cheapest is thirty piasters. With thirty piasters, we have enough to get by for two days..." / (S. F. Abasıyanık, Semaver, p.84)

What befalls human beings—the elderly, those living on the streets, the homeless, the impoverished—is heartbreaking, yet there are animals too. There are those beautiful companions with whom we share this planet, whom we spend every day ignoring. When winter arrives, I have seen reports on social media multiple times showing animals being rounded up. Shameless excuse for human beings! They rounded up the dogs and dumped them at the top of a mountain. Abandoned them to death! Some they even slaughtered! And down there on the mountaintop, unable to resist the freezing chill of winter, they will invariably perish. Winter is a catastrophe, a natural disaster for all creatures living on the streets. To look away from this is a magnificent display of selfishness.

There are people who become incredibly selfish while rushing through the anxieties of their day-to-day lives. To the extent that some throw completely unworn shoes bought for their child into the bin! "Good grief, why are you throwing them away? Give them to someone in need!" The response: "Who would ever need them?" Ah... it is as if they reside on a different planet, completely blind to all this sefalet. While their own pockets are stuffed with thick wads of cash, they won't offer a single penny or buy a meal for a homeless person passing right in front of them. On top of that, they have the nerve to grumble about why those people ended up in that state! After all, the captain who saved his own ship has long since sailed away! Yet, we have witnessed the wheel turn before; I don't believe in notions of "never falling", but who knows? You might find one day that winter strikes you too, everything slipping away from your grasp. You might spend your days yearning for a single breath, a solitary morsel of bread—and perhaps only then will you remember all those left stranded in the cold.

I have extended my words far too much. The most vital thing I want to convey is this: this winter, do not forget the homeless, the poor, the starving, the street animals, and the street children. Do not forget the birds, the ants, the foxes, the cats, and the dogs. Humanity has become alienated from one another; no one asks after anyone else or wishes for their well-being anymore—do not be like them. Do not be afraid to knock on a door, to extend a hand. This system will not change this way, I know, but never give up on standing on the side of kindness.