Diren RONAHİ

It was as if she was at the place where words ended.

For several days she had been living the moment closest to the answer to the questions troubling her mind. Perhaps that was why every word was a new abyss recalling deep darkness. She had to do something, something that would leave no need for words, something that would stand in the place of so many accumulated sentences.

She was silent. With every silence, fresh reveries enveloped her. She felt as if she were right above an abyss whose bottom she could not see, and just as much she saw herself at the bottom of that deep abyss. These were the comings and goings of being oneself and fearlessly facing one's own self. There had to be an exit from this abyss, from this darkness that increasingly left her alone. It was not words; so many words had been exhausted for this cause. Now it was time to move into action.

She sat on a rock, turned toward the sun about to be born, silent inside these deep thoughts. She lifted her head; daylight was spreading into the morning. Without looking back, she wanted to scatter toward the horizons like a bird beating its wings in her heart. After a while, the mountains stretched before her like a red sea. She did not ask herself why she was here, because she knew. Her friends did not ask either; they knew very well that this state of silence was not the product of helplessness.

She saw a bird holding a grasshopper in its mouth, slowly landing in its nest in the hollow of the rock. The voices of chicks echoed inside the silence. It was the weight of a responsibility that separated it from its young at this hour. Perhaps it had faced many dangers to raise its young and carry them into tomorrow. But it had to raise them, give them wings, and release them into the blue sky.

She too knew she was the traveler of a blue road. She was the traveler of a free life. She was a seeker of truth. This life had many necessities. This search had heavy responsibilities. She likened herself and her friends to the bird. They had set out in the sacredness of a purpose and made the mountains their dwelling. They had left many things behind: mother, father, siblings, the places where they were born and grew up, and many more things. But it was not in vain; this was a long-breathed road, and she knew it very well. She was aware. There was a peace in her heart created by this awareness. What they carried out was the struggle to leave free tomorrows to children whose future others wanted to steal. Now the weight of a responsibility had settled on her shoulders. She did not know who would answer and how. But she was aware that one had to begin somewhere. It was not words, because she was in a place far from the meaning of words. And so many words had been spoken. Now it was time to move into action. She had to become light for the tomorrows they wanted to bury in darkness. She had to stoke the burning fire of freedom even more and carry its flames to the seven heavens.

The sun that rose into morning and filled the earth with light was also rising into her deep thoughts and into the bottom of the dark abyss where she had gone back and forth. First a smile appeared, and then she said, ‘Yes, I may be at the place where words end. But now is not the time for silence; it is the time to shout at the top of one's voice. O you smiling SUN, born upon the earth, giving life to every living being with your rays, placing smiles in people's hearts! O majestic mountains, the only settled place of wounded and nomad hearts, who have sincerely become a dwelling for the oppressed! With the strength and determination I take from you, I walk upon the dark faces. With you I am born, with you I grow, with you I reach toward tomorrow. And now I take refuge in you as the way out of a dead-end street. It is the selfless smile of the comrade that gives strength to my heart and plants endless enthusiasm in my body. Now I will take those smiles beside me and carry their longings and dreams to free tomorrows.’

She looked around. She saw her friends, each busy with something. Preparations were being made for a day that had just begun. They were young hearts hurrying intensely, trying to do something. Each was a separate life, a universe holding endless beauty inside. Once more she remembered how much she loved them. At that moment a smile covered her gaze. She wanted to embrace each one separately, to hold them fully. With a movement as if saying no, she turned back and watched the sun rising slowly from behind the mountains opposite.

She was at the place where words ended, but she remembered so many words left unfinished. Words she could not bring to an end, could not voice enough, words in which she always felt something missing. Most of all, she remembered what she had not been able to say to the friends with whom she had set her heart on the struggle. Perhaps they had not stayed together long, but there was so much to be said. Harun, Zerdeşt, Şoreş, Aras, Nuda, Beritan, Cejna… She brought them one by one before her eyes. They had all set their hearts on this road together. Their dreams were common. Then she realized how much she missed them. Now each was growing common dreams in distant places. With so much longing gathered in her heart, she remembered every moment she had spent with her friends. Sometimes memories became a storm of joy filling her heart, sometimes they caused tears to fall one by one down her cheeks without her noticing.

She was completing her fifth year in the struggle. She remembered as if it were yesterday the promise she had made with her comrades. They would go to Dersim. In Dersim they would embrace their struggle more tightly. And now the winds of Dersim were blowing around her. Compared with her other friends, she was the closest to Dersim. It was as if she could feel the flow of Munzur, the wingbeats of swallows, the leaps of the pezkovî, the scent of the anafatma flower, the grandeur of the Red rocks… All were beautiful, each worth worlds. Then she felt the pride of being in this struggle. Every side of the heavenly country is beautiful in another way. Dersim, Amed, Botan, Serhad, East, West, South, North… Wherever it might be, it made no difference. She had given her word to the Party: ‘Whatever happens, I will prepare myself in line with the needs of the organization. I will continue to carry out my struggle wherever the organization deems appropriate. And I will follow successful practices on the path of expanding the struggle.’

She was angry. She knew she had to be angry. Without feeling anger toward the enemy, the determination to struggle could not be developed. For decades, what had been deemed fit for the Kurd was death, torture, massacre, and exile. Anyone who wanted to do something without feeling anger at these would go no further than a futile effort. Now Leader Apo, who had enabled the rebirth of the Kurd and was the creator of the free human being and free tomorrows, was under great pressure and exposed to intense violence. That was why she was angry. At every moment she questioned more deeply her insufficient comradeship and tried to answer the question of how she could be an answer. And even if late, she had found her answer. Tonight she had an appointment with the full moon. Perhaps she was going to her last meeting with her comrades. But despite everything, her heart was full of enthusiasm. This enthusiasm appeared in her eyes as an endless beauty.

Now her eyes shone differently. A smile covered her gaze. Her feet hanging from the rock moved back and forth by themselves. The only thing that existed at that moment was the excitement covering her body and heart. She had made her decision. After her distant yet equally close meeting in the night, she would attach her longings to the wings of the mountain winds and scatter her tilili. She would carry every ray of the sun born after pitch-dark nights to wounded, nomad, forbidden hearts. So that the flowers of the country would not fade, children would not be left without games, tears would not flow from mothers' eyes, and the cries of our young girls would cease, she would set out on the road. On the road that began in herself but would not end there, the road that would set a million hearts in motion…

The sun was rising higher and higher. She rose gently, taking support from her left hand. For a while she allowed the wind to comb her hair. She remained there as if wanting to engrave the sun's rays into the depths of her skin. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist. In the rhythm of the birds singing in the air, she drew into herself the scent of basil coming from far away. With an enthusiasm rising from the depths of her heart and surging cell by cell, vein by vein, she wanted to shout at the top of her voice. With tears descending quietly, she took a deep breath. In a voice that the sun, the mountains, and she herself could hear: ‘Words are over, now it is time for action’…

In memory of comrade Diren TOLHILDAN (Emine ALTUN)…