CELAL BEY’S LIVELIHOOD

After the rain, I was walking along the beach, letting myself be enveloped by the scent of the sea.

In the middle of the narrow path in front of the park, I noticed an overweight man in his 40s crouching on the ground, his hand clutched to his heart. His face was deathly pale. He held a net in one hand. He sat on the icy ground, staring blankly at the sea. He was coughing and rubbing his chest. I wanted to lean down and ask, “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No thanks, sir. I’m fine. We’re used to it now. I’ll light a cigarette and it’ll pass,” she said.

I wanted to get to know this fisherman better; his hair was graying, his face was filled with sadness, and he coughed constantly.

“Then come, let’s sit on this bench. We can get to know each other, and we can have something warm to drink so you can warm up, what do you say?”

We got up from the ground and went to the bench. When I checked his pulse, I noticed it was beating very fast. I ordered thyme tea. The fisherman ordered strong, dark red tea. He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered it to me.

“Light one.”

“Thank you, but I don’t use one,” I said. The fisherman, whose name I learned was Celal, replied.

“Fine, fine, don’t drink, you’re still young. What will you do with alcohol?”

We laughed a lot. The conversation deepened. I learned that Mr. Celal, the fisherman, was 42 years old, married, and a father of six children. He supported his children, family, wife, and parents with this livelihood. He showed me photographs of his children, in various sizes, which he pulled from his wallet.

“The youngest is 14 months old, and the oldest is about to start high school.”

I wanted to ask Celal Bey when he lit another cigarette before even putting out the first one.

“How many years have you been smoking, Mr. Celal?”

“I’ve been drinking since I was a child. My parents drank too. I got beaten up quite a bit. They beat me up everything, even my nose and mouth. Though, I still get beaten up at this age. If not with my hands, then with my words. When I try to quit, I gain weight, master. Then I crave it, I can’t resist, and I start again.”

Following Mr. Celal’s statement, there was one point I thought it important for him to notice. We continued our conversation.

“Mr. Celal, you know, I’m not saying you should or shouldn’t smoke, but actually smoking has nothing to do with weight gain. But I can say that smoking is a very insidious enemy disguised as a friend.”

Mr. Celal took another deep drag from his cigarette.

“You said it beautifully, master. It’s true, we know that too, what would you say? This thing is both friend and foe. But we can’t be with it, nor without it. What are we going to do?”

Mr. Celal’s question seemed very heartfelt, profound, and sincere.

“Mr. Celal, life sometimes inflicts pain on us. We want to escape certain realities within this pain, to find refuge somewhere. We do this simply to sever our connection with that reality. We want other things to take center stage in our lives instead of this pain. We absorb them one after another.”

Dear friends.

Our conversation with Mr. Celal continued. We talked at length. We opened a door to awareness regarding healthy living and our inner world. With his permission, I told him I wanted to publish a part of this conversation. I am happy to share it with you now, as it comes from my heart.

Thank you for taking the time and effort to read this.

With love and respect.

Uğur Uğural