‘How do you make menemen?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘First you peel the tomatoes well, then you cut them into cubes. I don't think menemen is possible without onions; then you chop the onions, then the chillies. Put some oil in a pot. When the oil melts, first add the onions, and when they turn pink, add the chillies. After the two are cooked nicely, add the tomatoes. When the tomatoes melt, break two eggs on it. Add salt and cumin and close the lid. You wait for the eggs to cook, when the eggs are cooked, here is your menemen.’

‘Well, you have done all this work, you have closed the lid. After a while, you opened the pot and iskender kebab came out.’

He got up from the table and moved to the chair next to me. I could see in his eyes that he was a little worried.

Teacher Zafer: ‘No way, son, nothing but menemen will come out of that pot.’

‘Well, if you write these things down in detail and I do the same at home, will I get a good menemen out of that pot?’

He nodded his head as 'yes'.

‘That's exactly what I want to say.’

After sitting next to me for a while longer, his worries must have disappeared, because he sat down again at his simple and unpretentious table.

‘We can also put it like this: If you want to be a body shop mechanic in the industry, you don't become an apprentice to a barber.’

There was a short silence. Then:

Teacher Zafer: ‘(It was pouring rain outside. He went to the kitchen, he wanted to drink a glass of water. He came in front of the window, lost in thought with the sound of the fizz he heard from the tap. When he saw the branches of the cypress willow tree swaying with the wind like the long hair of a young girl outside, he thought of his beloved. His thirst flew away in an instant...)’

‘This is my writing, teacher. How did you find it?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘Yes, this is your writing. It is very good, I think you are talented. But why don't you want to train yourself in this direction?’

‘Why, teacher, is it necessary to be only a writer? Can't a merchant be a writer?

Teacher Zafer: ‘Son, stop calling him a merchant. That's such a rude way of saying it.’

‘Well, what should I say, teacher? As wrong as it is to call a doctor a doctor or a body shop mechanic a body shop mechanic, what else can a merchant be called?

Teacher Zafer: ‘For example, salesperson, salesman.’

‘Oh, isn't he a merchant then?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘Well, you are right too. After all, one of the most classical phrases of today is to add some exaggerated words to these titles to make them seem important and to use them by making people feel important.’

‘’Teacher, for God's sake, what are you saying, what kind of a word is that? Teacher, actually it is not a secret, but unfortunately people like it that way.’

Laughing in the sleeve, he straightened the pencil holder on his desk.

Teacher Zafer: ‘You made me look like you, what will happen now? What am I going to say to the Principal?’

‘Nothing, teacher, what will you say? You will say 'there is nothing wrong with this child.' Being different is not a problem. Isn't everyone different anyway? Who is the same?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘The differences of individuals do not mean that they are sick, we have accepted that. But I think you are missing something, master.’

‘What is that, teacher?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘If these differences of individuals interfere with other people's personal space and put them in a difficult situation, then the situation changes.’

‘Teacher, for example?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘If someone like you comes along and while the other students are listening to the lesson, they are busy with other things and the teacher's attention is distracted, and the other students cannot get efficiency from that lesson, then there is a problem there.’

He seemed to be happy and leaned back in his chair like a victorious commander. He folded his hands on his belly. He was staring into my eyes, waiting for an answer from me.

‘Of course, the name of that problem is Atilla.’

Teacher Zafer: ‘Why, would you expect it to be Zafer? Of course it's you. You should be more sensitive about this. In reality, it can happen once, we can even call it normal. But if it spreads to all the lessons and there is no change even though the teachers warn you, then you will end up here with me.’

‘Well, then, am I a problematic student?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘I don't understand what you mean by this question. Is this what you want to say: Am I a problematic student?’

‘Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to say.’

Teacher Zafer: ‘Actually, no, you are not a problematic student. This point is important. People miss this either intentionally or unknowingly. You are someone else's problem; I, as a teacher, need to solve this so that other students and teachers can get rid of this problem.’

He had solved all the problems and put everyone at ease. I wanted to comfort him a little more.

‘Wait now, teacher, I am confused. Are you dealing with me for my problems or for solving the problems of others?’

Teacher Zafer: ‘I am not dealing with anyone, do you have a problem?’

‘No, I don't.’

Teacher Zafer: ‘Then someone else has a problem and that is you.’

Merchant

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