Incense...

On a spring evening in Göcek, I am having an evening chat with my sister Sadike, her husband Aydın Taşkın, and my mother Gülsüm (Güssün) at their home. Born in 1934, my mother can sit even though she cannot walk. Our elders who have reached a certain age like to talk, especially about the old days.

Young and middle-aged people want to talk about the present. This is natural. My peers or those close to my age also have their own TV series; when the time comes, they watch them either all together or alone in other rooms or on their mobile phones. They do not want to miss their shows.

Humanity is becoming isolated. My mother does not have such a chance. Because she has difficulty seeing due to cataracts, she no longer has the chance to watch television either.

My mother was one of the rare and lucky girls who could go to primary school in Göcek in the 1940s. Even in those days, it was considered shameful for girls to go to school. My mother started school during the final days of the Second World War. Despite the environment created by the years of war and poverty, she finished school successfully. She wanted to continue to middle school. However, poverty and scarcity were rampant. She was one of 5 children from a very poor family. How could they send her? The bitterness of not being able to continue her education still lingers.

When she had barely reached the age of fifteen (her age was even increased to marry her off early), thinking that it was time to settle her down, she said: "Even though I always wanted to study, they married me off immediately. I had no choice but to go. I went crying and sobbing." "They couldn't afford a wedding dress. After a simple wedding, they dressed me in a garment we call a 'zıbın' and a 'üç etek' and put me on an animal (a horse). Along with the animal, I had two chests of dowry. In one of the chests, there was a large watermelon, and in the other, there was my small amount of clothing and a large stone to balance the watermelon on the other side." "I saw it when I opened the chests after I arrived at my husband's house."

My mother was as if she were reliving the old days.

"The neighborhood where I grew up, Dereboğazı, smelled like incense. On Thursday evenings, which we called 'heavy days,' incense made from the bark of the sweetgum tree (sığla) was burned. Because incense was burned in all the houses in the neighborhood, the air of the entire neighborhood would smell very pleasant for 3-4 days."

When I asked, "Why did you burn it?" she replied, "We liked the smell. I think when I asked my grandmother Sultan and my elders, they would say, 'It smells nice, doesn't it?' When I asked my uncle Hamit, a veteran of Mecca, he would say, 'It is burned to calm God.'"

In my own childhood, in the 1960s, incense continued to be burned on certain days of the week after school and especially on religious holidays. Our neighborhood would be enveloped in the lovely scent of incense made from sweetgum tree bark.

Today, in an environment where endemic sweetgum trees are rapidly disappearing, some insatiable people are trying to destroy the trees by attempting to open tourism facilities and yacht mooring areas in places where sweetgum trees grow and develop freely. Göcek Osmanağa (Günnük) Bay is one of them. The Göcek People's Assembly organized a protest in the bay last week.

They wrote that while the cases were still ongoing at the Muğla 3rd Administrative Court, they started construction again before the court finished and continued with the construction. In our country, the rule of law has been trampled upon in every field. They don't even have time to wait for the court's decision. My point is this: Göcek continues to be plundered.

Ever since the local people of Göcek stopped burning incense, the bays of Göcek have continued to be plundered. Let's see which bay will be next after Osmanağa Bay.

In this article, which I started especially with my mother, I wish a "Happy Mother's Day" to all mothers, especially my own. They are the crown of our heads; I kiss their hands with respect and love.

Prof. Dr. Nurettin DEMİR