The funeral of our brother Nihat

Even though I wanted to go very much, I could not attend the funeral of our brother from Faroz.

Trabzon has lost many of its very important values at a young age recently.

After Volkan Konak, Nihat Genç was one of the most important of these.

I do not know if another like him will ever be raised.

Certainly, it is not easy at all.

We were born in the same neighborhood.

Even though I was born quite a while after him, we both swam in the Faroz harbor.

We threw rings at cigarettes at the Sotka fair.

Our meeting happened much later.

I would occasionally buy his books sold by street vendors.

What he wrote seemed interesting. But I could not quite make sense of his texts.

Still, I read them.

I became a close follower of his programs with Serdar Akinan after we met. 

I still remember our first meeting in Kızılay in 2004, when I was a second lieutenant at the General Staff.

He had long black hair and an intimidating gaze.

He wore a black leather jacket.

He was cool-headed.

The tea-cigarette-batak card game sequence was, of course, an indispensable trilogy.

Naturally, when he received the answer "I am from Faroz" to the first Turkish acquaintance question of "Where are you from?", he did smile a little.

More thugs or football players usually came out of Faroz.

Just as I did not think someone would emerge from there who would be an orderly to the Chief of General Staff, brother Nihat did not think so either, and he was quite surprised.

Perhaps he could not help but smile because he was surprised.

My interest increased even more during the Ergenekon process.

His drawing a sword alone against the great Armageddon increased my attention even further.

During the period when FETÖ was taking heads, he opposed the gladio with his stern gaze and sharp tongue.

While many Sublime Porte writers, whose roots were mostly tied to the palace, were cursing the Turkish army that was being imprisoned, saying "it serves them right," someone born barefoot in Faroz had set out to defend a whole army on an empty stomach.

Perhaps that is why his funeral ended in a way befitting his life, with the participation of thousands of people and a wreath from the party of the Kuvvacılar (National Forces).

Because he lived like a brave man, he was also sent off like a brave man.

Let me also write a note to the state so it stays in the corner of its mind.

It may not always be possible for us to find a man from Faroz to defend you.