This is Ahmet. I’ve met him 4 years ago. Year after beginning of my photography adventure. Ahmet is son of Ramazan. You’ve met him already. Ahmet was 2 years old when I met him. I can describe him as a happy and sensitive child. Ahmet adores tractors, cars, any vehicle with an engine. He often goes to farms with his father with the tractor, because her mother also works in the fields and farms. As I can see, he is little bit afraid of his mother, because she often beats him. Ahmet can be really nasty, but in general, he is very nice and happy child.
The day I took his pictures, It was a special day, festive of Ramadan. He had beautiful clothes, but then he was being nasty and he felt down. His forehead was bleeding, all his clothes got dirt on them. So her mother was beating him after that. That’s why he had a band-aid on his forehead.
Ahmet’s father, Ramazan gets often mad, because baby sheeps still have problem to follow, so they often run away to bushwood, brave Ramazan gets in the bushwood and tries to get back the baby sheeps on the route. Ahmet really enjoys watching the sheeps on his fathers chest.
Ahmet is surrounded by animals. 2 cows, baby sheeps, a rooster, a dozen of chicken, and 2 dogs. The dog at right is Ahmet’s dog. Ahmet loves spending time with him. The dog at left, which is Turkish Kangal is very calm dog, it’s his father’s dog, protecting the animals. Ahmet’s dog is such a teaser. One day, I promise, he will get biten by Kangal so bad.
Ahmet is now 6 years old, in couple of months, he is gonna start to school.
Please tell me what do you think about Ahmet and His Adventures in The Village
That was what he was telling me. He was stuggling with life because of economic problems. 3 children, more than 5 grandchildren. Living in same house. 3 packages for a day. At least he produces his own cigarette from tobacco. Too old to get a new job. He had a coffee shop/tavern in the village but he had to shut it down because of economic crise. Now he is going to farms like a daily worker. gets arround 15 US dollars for 10-15 hours of daily work.
His parents had named him Ugur, which means lucky in Turkish, and which obviously can only bring you anything but bad luck. Ugur had always wanted a son, a little boy to look up to him. He dreamt of this son to carry the family name and honour it. To flood him with toys of cars and trucks in his birthdays. And then, later, when he was old enough, to teach him how to fight in school (never to start a fight of course, but to be able ‘to stand and defend what is right’, he would have carefully explained to his son). To watch football matches together and to teach him how to drive his old second hand car without burning the engine. Everybody thinks it is women who fantasize and pick names for their future imaginary children, but the truth is sometimes men also do it. Ugur had picked a name for his future son even before he started dating girls, which by the way, was quite early. No girl in the village could resist his gentle manners and his blue eyes. But Ugur never had the chance to give his name to his son, even if now he is the proud daddy of three little girls. When I asked him if he would keep trying to have a boy, he answered: “sure, it is like playing the lottery, I just need to keep buying the tickets…right?”
What do think about this picture? How made you feel? Do you like the story? Do you think Ugur will be more lucky about his dreams in the future?
This photo was taken in my village, somewhere west of Turkey, little Aegean village. Where I come from, where I haven’t been for at least 4 years. It was the last time I saw her. I wanted to say goodbye. She didn’t hear it, or react. I always wanted to remember her happy, joyful, funny, as she was. My family was believing it was her last days. 7-8 years ago she was complately normal, sometimes forgetting little things. It got worse and worse in time. Last time I saw her, she couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat, couldn’t move. It was like a baby with old skin. I didn’t want to see her like this. My mother told me that I should say goodbye. She lived 3 more years after this But I didn’t visit her. I couldn’t. I ignored it. I wanted to remember her happy, joyful and funny as she was. She died 2 months ago. My mother said ”I would like to say goodbye to her, talk to her. Last time she had proper conversation with her, it was like 5 years ago. Alzhaimer. Now my mother forgets little things, she is scared, she might have alzhaimer as well. She tries to read a lot, makes crosswords, practising words. Goodbye Grandma, sorry for ignoring you last 5 years. Rest in peace.