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30th October 1941
Brown eyes. Black hair. They do match your skin. Isn’t it beautiful, how you’ve allowed me to fall for you?
Or perhaps I fell for you because of the creativity of your soul, drawing me closer every time I ask or tell you something, and you react beautifully — not on purpose, but simply because that’s who you are.
Here it is, boy. Your coffee.” Mr. Savcı gave me a big glass of coffee.
“Mr. Savcı, this is actually a lot. I really don’t drink coffee this much,” I said.
He smiled at me and told me to sit down. “My boy, you should drink it. I think the ice cream I give you every day has done enough for you in this season. You should be on holiday for those ice creams now,” he smiled and said.
No! Hey, I mean you can take this coffee back and let me have my ice cream, please,” I said, laughing, to which Mr. Savcı joined.
The laugh faded away. I kept drinking my coffee, glancing at Mr. Savcı, who was staring out the window with an expressionless face, like a dead person’s gaze. “Mr. Savcı?”
I ventured, but he remained fixated on the window. “Mr. Savcı?!” I called again, finally snapping him out of his reverie. He looked at me with a start, his expression turning into an awkward smile as he returned to reality.
“Oh boy! Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, briefly looking away before meeting my gaze.
Concerned, I asked, “Are you okay, Mr. Savcı? You look pale and… dizzy.”
He stammered, “Oh, no, no. I was just… I was not-”
“Mr. Savcı?! Don’t be scared. Neither me nor any of my friends will ever tell anyone about you living here. You’re safe here. Don’t worry, alright?!” I reassured him.
His smile carried a tension, as if it were resisting something unseen. But suddenly, it shifted, turning into a smile tinged with the sadness of lost hope.
“I see,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor.
I glanced around the room. Mr. Savcı's house was surprisingly tidy, with numerous drawings adorning the walls, lending them an air of beauty. The soft, light yellow hue of the walls seemed to reflect his vibrant personality—a man as radiant as the sun itself.
Despite the challenges he faced as a Jewish person, he always wore a bright smile, generously offering us ice creams with constant cheer.
But the thing is, his ground floor doesn't resemble an apartment; from the outside, it appeared as nothing more than a wall and a glass panel. It doesn’t look like a window from outside. It was built in this way so people could hide here.
Since many people were taken, but he managed to hide here.
Believing that no one else was left inside, the Nazis departed, locking it from the outside and never returning to check. Many soldiers even forgot that this was a place where someone could actually hide, as it didn’t resemble an apartment from the outside.
“What does it mean to be scared, Altan?” Mr. Savcı’s voice trembled with emotion as he posed the question.
I could sense he had something more to say, something deeper.
“I’m 56 years old. I’ve nearly lived my life. I have tuberculosis. I’m poor, alone. Sometimes, hunger threatens to claim me. I have no family. And… I am Jewish. So, tell me, Altan, what should I fear?”
I watched as tears welled in his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. He sat with his hands on his knees, relaxed in his chair. He was looking at me.
And he started to smile even more, causing a tear to escape, trailing down his cheek, then his lip, and finally his chin, despite his eyes’ efforts to hold it back. Which he didn’t wipe.
“There’s nothing left to fear, my boy,” he said, his voice trembling with sadness.
My eyes grew heavy, weighed down by the inevitable fate awaiting him. Yet, he no longer feared death. It seemed as though his tears were not shed for what awaited him, but for what he had already lost — perhaps the people he had lost.
“I just wanted-”
Before he could say more, the sound of marching feet echoed from outside. Mr. Savcı quickly got up, took my arm, and led me into another room, where we hid. It was a long platoon and it was taking time to end.
The march continued and it took me to the time, when…
It was 6:00 p.m. on October 8th, 1941. Joel and I were on the street, debating whether dogs or cats make better pets. As we walked, I noticed something strange: a glass window on the wall closing by itself. It was Mr. Savcı with a wound on his head, sneaking back to his place, when the four of us spotted him. He glanced our way and realized we had caught him.
The moment he saw us, he ran to us and just fell at our feet, begging us not to tell anyone. He begged and cried. My friends were also a little terrified to see a Jewish person hiding there, and who knows for how long. He cried and said again and again, “Please, don’t tell anyone. Please I beg you my dear. I swear I will do anything but please don’t tell anyone I am hiding here. His hands were in blood. And his forehead had a serious wound. He was begging while holding on to my legs. Before anyone could say anything, I said, “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. Please go and hide back there again before any guard arrives.” Gad told me not to do this, but I ignored his words and instructed Mr. Savcı to return to his hiding place, and he did the same.
Even though Gad was against the situation, he remained silent once Mr. Savcı returned to his hiding place. Perhaps he felt sympathy for the man as well. Joel and Ehud were also a little scared, and we considered leaving as soon as possible.
The next day, as we passed by the same street on our way to school, the events of the previous night had slipped our minds. As we neared the familiar window, a voice whispered, “Hey, Gad. Come here.” We were all startled. We heard it clearly.
Then, to our surprise, we saw Mr. Savcı opening his window, holding four cones of ice cream, a warm smile on his face, and a small towel draped over his shoulder. He wore torn pants and a t-shirt.
We looked at each other. We were confused. I mean, any of us could easily hand this man over to the Nazis. I was about to say something, but then Joel went forward and took one of the cones. Ehud followed, and then Gad as well. Gad came close to me and whispered in my ear, “Maybe it’s a reward he’s giving. Accept it before he executes his plan to run away from here. He could be our ice cream man, right?” He giggled.
I didn’t find it funny, but I didn’t find it offensive either. I wanted the ice cream. I looked back at Mr. Savcı. He said, “Here, boy, take it. And thank you for yesterday.” I moved forward and took the ice cream from him.
“Thank you so much for letting me stay here. I can’t thank you guys enough. But you can always come to me for ice cream! I can give you ice cream whenever you want. As much as you want. I am always here,” he said.
Gad said, “That sounds good, right? We’ll come here every day and get ice cream for ourselves and our friends. You can do that, right?”
“Of course, my dear. I will do that. It’s not a prob — “
“We’ll pay,” I interjected. “We’ll pay for the ice cream. We won’t accept it for free. The fewer people know about you, the better. If you want to survive, you’ll need money. And we need ice cream. We’ll buy ice cream, that’s it.”
Gad didn’t seem pleased and protested, “Bro, why? When we can get them for free — “
“I said we’ll pay, Gad! We will pay!”
Mr. Savcı said, “Guys really, you don’t have to pay. I love making ice creams, and I really don’t want money from you. It was enough what you did yesterday for me. You can just-”“If you want us to take the ice cream, you need to take the money. Otherwise, you can just forget it. Just keep yourself hidden.” I said.
“Okay okay. But take these ones for free. At least as a gratitude.” Mr. Savcı insisted.After that day, we visited Mr. Savcı every day for ice cream. He was truly a kind man. He would give us ice cream, and we would pay him. We could see that the money he received was actually helping him out financially a little.
One fine day, when we were outside his window, having our ice creams. And then,
i saw a… i saw,
myself as frozen as ice,
the light of goodness of world is concise,
i could see the cherished muse,
for someone, death i would easily choose,She was walking toward the door of the building right opposite Mr. Savcı’s building, but she seemed to be hiding from everyone.
Luckily, I saw her. Joel grabbed my shoulder from behind and pulled me towards him. ‘Altan! What happened? What are you doing?’ he said.
‘Oh no, I was just — ‘
He interrupted, ‘Man, you can’t hold onto an ice cream?’ He laughed. ‘Your ice cream is on the ground, and your hand is in the shape like you’re holding one.’
I looked at the ground, and my ice cream was all over the ground and on my shoes as well.
“Where’s your mind Altan?” He asked.
I didn’t find it okay to tell them what I saw. I thought they already had enough information about one Jewish person. And if that girl is also Jewish and hiding from everyone, they won’t keep it a secret.
“Nothing, Joel. My thoughts just shocked me. I just thought about the fact that you can actually carry me in your stomach. It’s just that big.”
Everyone laughed, including Joel. “Did you just fat shame me?”
“No, but I did fact shame you,” I said.
Everyone started talking to each other, and I thought it was the right time to enter the building and see if she was still there. Her innocence reflected in her eyes for that split second when she saw me. She didn’t say anything, but her expression conveyed everything. However, the moment she caught sight of me, she dashed inside the building.
I approached Mr. Savcı and asked, “Mr. Savcı, which ice cream do you have that tastes the best?”
He replied, “Well, son, every ice cream I have tastes good. Which one would you like?”
I needed to act quickly, so I decided to choose an ice cream that wasn’t too strongly flavored but wasn’t bland either, ensuring it wouldn’t leave a bad first impression.
Yes, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask why she was wearing a thick, blue scarf when it wasn’t that cold. It looked cute, but still, it seemed unnecessary.
“I’ll take this one, Mr. Savcı,” I pointed to an ice cream in his drawer.
Mr. Savcı looked at me, smiling, and asked, “This one? Why this one?”
“Well, I’m not familiar with its flavor, but it seems like a safe choice for a new try, right? It looks like a regular ice cream, nothing fancy. I wouldn’t hesitate to eat it without worrying about it tasting bad,” I explained.
Mr. Savcı paused for a moment, lost in thought, then said, “Ah, okay. But I do have other flavors, you know. Better ones.”
“No, no, just give me that one, please hurry!” I insisted.
I grabbed the ice cream and hurried to the building door. My friends shouted and asked where I was going, and I assured them I’d be back in a minute.
As I opened the door, I was greeted by a musty odor, and the interior looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. I ascended the stairs, not bothering to ask if anyone was there because, if there were, they likely wouldn’t respond.
I noticed the footprints of those who had used the stairs, impressed into the dusty ground. It was horrifying to imagine people living in such conditions while we enjoyed our comfortable lives.
My shoes became dirtier with each step, so I abandoned the idea of finding her and offering her the ice cream.
The ice cream began to melt, and I assumed she had already hidden herself away. I turned back toward my friends, the ice cream was melting quick.
But then…
“Altan?”
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