16 Ekim 2012 Salı


Ας είναι λακωνική!
Χρειάζομαι να πιστεύω...

11 Ekim 2012 Perşembe

Elegy to my beloved daddy

't used to be so warm hugging your huge belly though your marble palace was cold today, under the cedar trees.  I appreciate your existence each and every breathe that I take. As you still can make me feel safe, even from thy icy box that you are in. 

29 Eylül 2012 Cumartesi


Alnımın teriyle
mavilerin en derininden çıkardığım,
bir avuç ışığa;
Sunmaya hazırım,
en büyük şehirlerini gizlerimin.

Hadi tut yelkenin ucundan,
tut ki açılalım menekşe denize.

13 Eylül 2000
Özlem Yaşayanlar

3 Ağustos 2012 Cuma

The Farm

The cedar trees which seem to continue breadthwise and lengthwise, provided a border to the farm that was about twenty kilometres from the town. There were peach , cherry and lemon trees in the tranqualizing land.  The small  and white village house was built in  front of my father's vineyard.that provided shelter in hot summer days. The forest of pine trees could be seen from  the left side of the white washed house and the smooth breeze  has always  swept away the uneasiness of the day. The barn was between the house and the forest. On the right side of the village house , the river flowed gently where I used to go fishing. The pink oleanders  bent over to hear the sound of the flowing water. Actually, there were more turtles in the water than fish but during  Summer holidays  and at the weekends in  Winter I have always gone there to catch some . 
Though, I have generally disliked going to  the farm as there were no children to play with, except  Sundays. Sundays were fun! I used to spend  time with the children of our guests  who were stopping by on the way back from the beach. 
Mehmet, my indispensible hero had grey-white hair and  the color of his eyes always reminded me of the mossy  blanket that one could only find in the depths of the sea. For he always had a smiling expression , his wrinkles were more obvious  and as he  didnt like to use a belt, his trousers were always down but he never cared about it until somebody warned him.  Dad always liked to fix something in the kitchen for his guests. Extra virgin olive oil, thyme, daphne and garlic were the basics in many of his recipies. He slowly made the grill ready while drinking raki and murmuring couplets in  Cretan to make the guests  laugh. One of them still echoes in my mind:

Ολοι μου λένε πως μεθώ
Μα 'γώ κρασί δε πίνω
Ένα πουλάκι με μεθεί
Κι'  εγώ στον θεό τ' αφήνω.

He had always eaten alone beside the grill, rarely sat down with us. Even at those times when he used to make everyone laugh and leave them breathless with his naughty jokes, he would generally conclude that 'laughing is a good way to digest food.' 

His Cretan roots have always brought diversity of colors to our table. Collecting wild greens, so carrying a knife were indispensible delicacies of life .  Γιαγιά  was even able to tell from a distance where she could find wild artichokes due to the whitish color of the soil. My favorite was always wild asparagus  cooked with eggs and spring onions.   Favoring that sort of a bitter taste was making me feel  privileged.
During the week at the farm I always wished to be at home back in Izmir so I could watch TV , but since I was only eight I wasn't allowed to be left alone at home and I had to go to the farm to make the family happy. Later on, I finally decided to  try enjoying my time while I was at the farm  to make it more bearable as I had no other choices but to go anyway.

The barn was huge; Mehmet  had built it according to the plans that  he brought from the capital city. There were rabbits, cows, horses, chickens, roosters and sheep. We also used to have two hunting dogs called Zoka and Kostak  that always protected me from the strangers and the other dogs that looked disturbing.
Mehmet  used to put traps for the  rats in the barn. I remember taking out the dead rats and carrying them with a shovel to the paved road and whistling their funeral music. After leaving them on the road, I waited for the cars to pass by so I could watch the rats to be transformed into paper sheets. 

Inci, my mum, complained about almost everything that she've experienced in her life. Perhaps she wasn't aware of the tension that was reflected to her face. Her matte green eyes have always seemed very black to me. Remembering tragic moments of her life have eventually become a permanent habit as the years passed by. Somehow the psychiatrist's prescription was not working well on her. When I was fourteen, I remember asking her to watch the movements of the willow leaves so maybe she might feel ease. As a response she said,"Are you on drugs, so you are talking like this?" Through each and every attempt that I made to "reach" her inner world, I was refused and after a while I had to accept the unbreakable distance between us. 

There was an endless tobacco field at the neighboring farm where I used to escape until my hero, my sweet daddy got back home. It was fun to collect tobacco, to help to our neighbors. I was gladly giving massage to the backs with my tiny little hands as they worked. Sometimes I was even stealing some pans full of food to bring to our neighbors because I thought mum can always cook but those people had to work. And I was the one to balance justice between the two farms! Of course, on the way back home I knew what was waiting for me: Inci with a willow branch in her hands. 
"But I wanted to help them!" 
"Oh really, I don't have anyone to help me! This is not an excuse and it is not the first time you've stolen food from your own house to bring to the neighbors. Do you have any idea how many hours it took me to roll the stuffed grape leaves?"

I never felt any pain because I was so sure that I hadn't done anything wrong. The problem was her, Inci. While I was counting the traces of the wounds on my legs, I was so sure that she again misinterpretted my deeds. 

One day, in the afternoon Inci and I were drinking tea under the willow tree in front of the house. She was obsessively twisting a strand of her curly hair. She took a deep breath and started to talk about her father again. I, a fifteen year old, was again patiently listening her story. "God, I hope he is resting in peace wherever he is" she said and turned towards to me: "You know, he was a great man one could ever meet in a life time...When I had a headache, he cried. You cannot imagine how strong were his manners, everything about him was beyond human limits. And my mother right after losing such a wonderful man, got married with a drunken worker. How come she dared to do that, I will lose my mind!" 

I said, " Mum, please try to leave it behind you. Whatever happenned, has happened. You cannot change it. Maybe it was not the proper thing to remarry right after losing your father but perhaps it wasn't easy to keep up with the daily routine as a single parent in those years. Please try to forgive her and moreover try to love her along with her mistakes. You don't know what you could have done if you were in her shoes. She was only thirty two and she needed someone. You can't simply die with the dead."

Inci got mad, she really freaked out: "What about 'honor'?" she shouted. 
I was already tired of talking to her for she was a stubborn goat! She stood up slowly, holding an empty tea glass in her trembling hands, looked at me in a weird way and walked into the house mumbling to herself.

Right after she got in, my brother Ali showed up. He was back from hunting. He was snorting with anger. He threw his back pack, his rifle, common quails and grey patridges over the empty chair, next to me. Then he pulled the water pump a couple of times and washed his face with the ice-cold water. It was not something uncommon for him to be aggressive but this time he looked like he had a good reason.
"Hi, a bad day?" I asked him.
His eyes got even darker and shouted, "Damn Zoka died!"
"He wanted to challenge the train. He was running along the railway and has completely forgotten about birds or hunting. When he almost passed the very first wagon, he suddenly disappeared underneath it."

I was scared to respond, as if my muscles turned into marble pieces at that second. Poor Zoka, my friend...I wonder what he thought that the train was; a huge bird? Or a monster to challenge? Or did he simply try to prove to his master that he was faster than the train? I asked Ali if he burried Zoka. He didn't respond.


Mehmet had always been an easy going person. I remember him saying, "Oh my cheeks are aching again of smiling." He was generally discreet and modest although he had a lot to be proud of; he was a calm sea. He was my harbour! He donated an elementary school to the government and although he was not a wealthy man he happily paid for many children's school books for so many long years. Whatever he did, I was deeply in love with my hero.

One sunny afternoon I was digging the ground to find some worms to use as a bait. Mehmet was smoking his narghile in front of the house. His stillness pulled my attention. As he laid down on the divan and I realized he was staring at a picture. There was a sulky expression on his face, his eyes were shimmering though. In his sullen expression there was something rebellious and at the same time his wrinkles were so obvious which made me think that he was actually smiling. I was so curious to see that picture!

It was my grandmum's picture, his mother. She was quite chobby and taller than usual standards. Her curly hair was tied up very properly. The most noticable feature of hers were her big green eyes and the way she looked; I thought one could easily cast under her spell. She'd passed away when Mehmet was born.

Mehmet's father, Ali had done his best for the child; feeding him with goat milk and making sure that he was always clean. Ali was rarely having time to rest; he had to till the land and plant various greens. As Ali didn't know any Turkish, Mehmet used to speak only Cretan until he was finally six years old. Then on Mehmet was sent out to play with the locals so he could learn and practice some Turkish in order not to experience problems at school.

As Mehmet grew up, he eventually started to help to his father and learnt how to deal with mother earth.
They rarely talked while cultivating the land.Sometimes Ali murmured some couplets in Cretan or fed Mehmet with many interesting stories about Crete and eventually Mehmet grew up with admiration to an image in his mind which even shaped his soul by bestowing him self-confidence, pride and manhood. He was so proud to have his roots from an island which was accepted as the most beautiful piece of land on the entire Earth. As his father explained, Crete was a land with endless and fertile vineyards; and that the amazing vineyards looked like the waves of the Aegean sea; that Crete was a holy land. Mehmet has felt that he was superior than the locals for he had Cretan blood in his veins.

At nights, Mehmet was hiding in the darkness of his room and was crying secretly, of not having the warmth of a mother and for not being able to put his head on her lap. "Why God?" he begged. He couldn't understand why she had to leave him so early.

I was back to the worms again when Mehmet called me, "Hey, your worms are escaping!" I suddenly decided to invite him for fishing trying to take him out of the world that he seemed he got lost.

*        *      *           *      *     *       *    *   *    *    *   *    *      

At six o'clock in the morning I heard a fluster in the house. It was too hard to open my eyes but Mehmet's voice was tense: "Give me the car keys. It's time." He was running about in panic. I stood up, washed my face and brushed my teeth in a minute. İnci told me that our horse, Rebecca would be delivering her baby soon. The steward, Ahmet has been checking with Rebecca for the last two days. I rushed to the barn gate but I wasn't let in. Ahmet explained that horses like to be alone during delivery. I started to pray for Rebecca, for she would have lesser pain and cramps as I cried without knowing why.

Mehmet in the meanwhile was already back with the veterinarian. As they got in to the barn İnci said, "Go and bring some eggplants from the backyard. I'll cook." I was almost paralyzed for her impassive way of looking at things. Then she said, "Are you still here? Go out of my sight!"

I slammed the door, walked quickly to the barn gate and sat beside it, consumed with impatience I felt gorge start to rise. I felt I was pining away with grief. Then I started to pray again while I watched the ants rushing to extend their food reserves for winter.

Four hours later, dad appeared by the gate. I sighed. He was looking down. I still can remember the sound of my own voice, screaming, "NO!" I started to walk backwards, Mehmet grabbed me from my arm and hold me tightly. "Child, I know Rebecca was very important to you. You grew up riding her. She was also very special to me, but I want you to be sure that we did our best."

I laid my head to his shoulder and whispered, "Why?"
He said, "My sweet baby, she had twins and her womb was upside down. Believe me we did our best."
I swept away my tears and shouted as I kept sobbing, "Don't you ever leave me alone!" He hugged me and said ," I'll never leave you, I promise. Now let's go and wash your face."

İnci was in the house, still cooking when we got in. "I'm starving" she said. "Couldn't you leave it to the veterinarian? What could you do to help her for heaven's sake?"
Mehmet said, "We lost her."
İnci was serving the lunch and she mumbled, "We'll get another one, no need to worry."
I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **

A month later, I was still crying for Rebecca. It was August and even under the shade it felt like Equador at the farm. The next day was my birthday and all I wished for that night when I layed down on my bed was a healthy life for my dad.

The following morning I woke up to a caterwauling. I saw from the window that Mehmet and İnci were having breakfast under the willow tree. I started to search the house to find the source of the noise. And finally I saw a black cat in the kitchen and I thought that the window was left open and probably the wind shut it. The cat jumped through the window to get out and it fell down. With each attepmt to get out the black cat broke another piece of glass, its paws were cut and bleeding. The sink and the kitchen counter were washed into red in a few minutes. Finally it saw the door that I opened and ran out.

I thought that all these were frustrating but when Mehmet received a letter from the government informing him that a dam was to be built in the area and that he had two months to leave the farm I stood aghast. I was twenty by that time and for the first time I realized how much I actually loved to be at the farm. It was impossible to get used to the idea of losing the farm. The forest was going to be cut down, Mehmet's vineyards, mum's rose garden, everything! 

Then on, Mehmet was stuck in an apartment. At the weekends he strolled around nearby places and he objected buying another land and he constantly kept saying that he did not want to betray the farm. He still  liked to voice the Cretan couplets while drinking raki but I had rarely seen a cheerful smile on his face. 


Finally it was my turn to leave home for university. I was doing well with my lessons and was so happy to have a flat of my own in Ankara...until one day I got a phone call from my mum, informing that I was supposed to get to Izmir as quick as it was possible. Mehmet was not well. In half an hour I was at the train station as there weren't any flights at that moment. There was no way to take the bus where smoking was not permitted. I was sure that six hundred kilometres was not going to pass without smoking. 

I am always going to remember that journey... I was exhausted of anxiety when I arrived home. Inci, with an artificial smile on her face, welcomed me. Then she leaned against the wall, "You are a strong girl but this is hard even for you. You will have to experience what I had experienced long ago and I hope you would not go mad like I did...Your daddy has cancer of the liver." 

I fell on the floor. 

I do not know how long it took me but I finally woke up some time later. Inci was smoking a cigarette and staring at me. "He doesn't know yet. Behave properly." she said with a frigid voice. I left the room silently. Only one single word was echoing in my mind. "No!" He has broken his promise! Inci was responsible of his illness, she was the one to be blamed. Her pessimism was injected into Mehmet's liver in the form of a tumor and now it was her getting bigger and bigger every day. 

A month later, Mehmet's huge body was fighting against death. I brought him some chicory that I collected from the greenest pastures, hoping to cure his liver. And yesterday friends came over to visit us. Mehmet promised to have some raki as soon as he gets well and he told some couplets in Cretan: 

The doctors, medicines
none worked at all
and my lonely heart
is left without cure. 

"Licking the Pages" Magazine
Bilkent University Editions

Özlem Yaşayanlar

13 Haziran 2012 Çarşamba

Dünyanın öteki ucunda

Uçak gösterisi yapılıyor. Kuşlar ürktü. Kuşların ürktüğünü benden başka kimse gördü mü bilmem. Elimden düşmüyor tütün ve sen başımı döndürüyorsun.
Damarımda kan kalmadı, gözüm toprak görmek istiyor. Merhabam neredesin? Gözündeki pırıltı nerede?
Özlem Yaşayanlar
Fortknox, 1992

12 Haziran 2012 Salı


Karanlık suların dibindesin, ürkek ve korkulu. Göğe bakıyorsun şöyle bir, umutsuzluk çağlıyor var gücüyle. Yukarıda sıralanmış balıkçı tekneleri hep birden projektörlerini yöneltiyor üzerime. Ne kaçacak temiz bir deniz ne yürek kaldı.

Kayalıkların arasından süzülerek, loş sokağa salıyorum benliğimi. Çaresizim. Uzaktan izliyorum kendimi. Her taraf idamı zevkle seyreden yarasaların çığlıklarıyla dolu ve daha ruhum bedenimden ayrılmadan parçalarım götürülüyor.
Son kez o göğe ulaşan köpükleri düşlemeye başlıyorum, alabildiğince mavi. 
Özlem Yaşayanlar
Ocak, 1995


A black picture:
me: the little fish,
is away from the depths.
Him: cannot be seen in the crowd
and the smoke
is almost on the floor.
Colors are behind the obscure curtain,
would you draw me a flower?

Özlem Yaşayanlar
1990, Ankara

Response to Levertov's "Beyond the End"

Available death tickled my knee!
It's over my heart now.
Activating each other,
getting bigger and bigger each and every second
like the mystery of solid dreams. 

Its potentiality is gathering,
now I feel it everywhere
as if a spider is walking
all over me,
mumbling humble rhythms.

Gathering and strolling towards my throat,
I knew it was gonna happen!
-I am not ready yet.
They thought for a while and said:
"Fine, but we'll be back"

I took a deep breath.
although it's inevitable,
although it's the end,
although it's beyond the end,
although it's to begin, to be and to defy.

It was like tons of salt, sailing in my liver!

Özlem Yaşayanlar
1994, Ankara

Sarı Top

Biri büyük sarı bir topla oynuyor, 
doğudan batıya doğru
gidişini izliyorum.
aynada gördüklerimi tanımıyorum ama
mezarlara çiçek ekmem gerektiğini biliyorum,
çok telaşlıyım.
Şehir avuçlarımda ve
hala ağlayabiliyorsam eğer
savaşı kazandık demektir. 
Özlem Yaşayanlar
1995, Ankara

A dream hidden in a nightmare

Primitive. That's why one would prosper her soul in this heaven. It seems the stars have fallen down on earth and within the core of every house there are new born babies. O Lord, are you really there? 
I guess it was dew that the little girl was holding, little precious thing. Was it an ode or a hymn that I heard, I am not so sure. Hitherto, the mossy trees in the woods are scaring me, and his breath over my skin. 
I see a nymph by the river and probably some wise men pondering. There is no ebb & flow.
Özlem Yaşayanlar
25.10.1996, İzmir 


Menevişli, dingin bir sabah,
bedenimi saran dalgaların her deviniminde
bulduğum seni, 
şimdi hangi mercan adacığında bulacağımı bilsem;
yitmeye hazırım en derin mavilerinde,
içten bir tebessümün için.

Lakin uğrunda ölecek mavilik gerek,
Yüreğini ortaya koyacak ruh gerek!

Giyin kuşan o zaman savaş takımlarını ey kabusum,
hazırım alnım açık, savaşmaya
varoluşumu körükleyen aşk için!

Özlem Yaşayanlar
1996, İzmir

Response to A. Gingsberg

I've touched your book:
smelling the humid earth
while walking in the vineyard
this morning. 

Touched the lines: 
shopping for images
while I stood watching
the boat disappear
late in the afternoon.

I've touched a child;
childless I...
while possessing 
every frozen delicacy
in the early evening. 

I'm reading your book
to the child now,
on the bench.
The street lights are reflecting us
on the road and 
we are shade to shade.

Özlem Yaşayanlar
1994, Ankara


A streched fishing net
between two wooden sticks.
falling apart,
with remains:

A tight wrath 
of honesty.
Infatuation of virginity.
An exploited vein in the skull.
A rhytym, untuned.
A face,
lost: me. 

Özlem Yaşayanlar
1993, Ankara

Spring Syndrome

Suffer! You mankind.
Terror, I want some more:
More to the edge!
Streets, fall apart.
Oceans, cover the lands.
Hail, high mountains, embrace
with the corals in the depths. 

Hey you witch, raise 
and pluck their wounds forever,
and don't let them die.

Why there is noone to stroke my hair? 

1992, Ankara
Özlem Yaşayanlar

5 Haziran 2012 Salı


İmzalanan bir anlaşma uyarınca memleketinizi bırakıp gitmeniz gerekseydi, önceliklerinizi düşünecek halde olmamanıza rağmen yanınıza ne alırdınız? Bir fotoğraf? Veya altın mı? Yoksa ‘yabancı’ bir toprakta ekmeğinizi bölmek ya da  ot toplamak için bir bıçak mı? Kimbilir, belki de özenle  bir mendile sarılmış, yüreğinizin üzerinde taşıyacağınız bir avuç toprak mı? Peki alt tarafı bir insan doğup büyüdüğü topraktan uzakta, dağılmış parçalarını nasıl bir araya getirebilir? Bütün benlikleriyle sevdikleri memleketiyle  vedalaşan Giritliler, yazık ki beraberlerinde sadece ‘anılarını’ alıp gelmişlerdir.
Farklı mı hissediyoruz? Evet. Peki neden ‘yeni toprağımızda’ –çoğumuzun ‘yerliler’ diye tanımladığı- diğerlerinden farklı hissediyoruz? Büyük göçün ardından, Girit’i hiç görmemiş, Anadolu topraklarında yaşayan üçüncü kuşak bir Giritli’nin, Girit’te yaşayan biri gibi olmasını, yiyecek-içecek alışkanlıklarını olduğu gibi sürdürmesini hatta kara ve deniz avına çıkmasını kim, nasıl açıklayabilir? Anılarımıza nasıl bu kadar sıkı sarılmış olabiliriz? Nedir Girit ruhunu bu kadar güçlü kılan, hiç tanımlamaya çalıştınız mı?
 Giritliler’in neden farklı hissettiğini anlamak, bu sırrı çözmek için en belirgin özelliğimiz olan Giritli inadını kullanarak bu uğurda çok yolculuk yapmamız gerektiğine inanıyorum.  Kahvede oturan birinde babanızın gözlerini görmek, otobüs bekleyen kıvırcık saçlı bir kadında annenizin duruşunu yakalamak insanı dalga boyu çok yüksek, travmatik çalkantılara sürüklese de, bir yanınız yoldan geçen herkesi kucaklamak isterken, bir yandan oturduğunuz iskemleden kalkamayarak usulca ağlasanız da, benzerliklerin sadece fiziksel öğelere bağlı olmaması ve  aşinalığın bu kadar fazlasını ‘yüklenmek’, eski toprağına bu kadar tanış olmak hiç kolay olmasa da, kaçınılmaz şekilde yüzleşilmesi gereken bir  sorumluluktur.
Öte yandan, her Girit yolculuğunun ardından Girit çoğalır insanın içinde. Dağılan parçalar bir araya gelir. ‘Şu yoldan belki dedem de yürümüştür’ derken, yaban Girit’in dini, dili bir yana, Giritli olmanın Psiloritis’den bile daha yüksekte, bambaşka bir kavram olduğunu anlar ‘yüzleşmeyi’ yaşayan kişi.  Hatta aile büyüklerinin yaşadığı evi bulmak bile önemini yitirebilir zamanla, çünkü o koşulda bütün Girit, ‘ev’ olur.
‘Kendini anlama’ yolculuğunda, köklerimize saygı göstermek için dedelerimizin  ana dilini, dilimiz döndüğünce konuşabilmek, minnet borcumuzun çok küçük bir ifadesi sayılmalıdır. Köşedeki Suriyeli kasabın İzmirli bir Giritli’ye böbrek yatağı ayırması, Girit lirası çalan bir tanıdıkla karşılaşınca ‘To meraklidiko puli pote folia den kanei’ şarkısına başlaması, yolda yürürken gülümseyerek selam vereceğiniz mandıra sahibidir artık en büyük zenginlik. Çünkü bütün bunlar içimizdeki Girit’i besler, Girit çoğalır ve onun en küçük zerresini bile çoğul anlamlarda sevmeyi deneyimleriz.

Bir Girit tutkunu olarak, bugün sizlere sormak istediklerim var. Hepimiz Giritli olmakla gurur duyuyoruz elbette, lakin Suriye- Hamidiye köyündeki Giritliler de gurur duyuyor ve kültürü yaşatmak için çocuklarına dilini, lira çalmayı, halay türlerini öğretiyor. Peki biz ne yapıyoruz? Yaşça büyük olanlar dışında kaçımız Giritçe biliyor? Enstrümanlarımızı tanıyor? Halaylarımızı biliyor? Pentazoli oynayabiliyor muyuz? Peki kaç çeşit yabani ot tanıyoruz? Aile büyüklerimiz kaç çeşit ot tanıyordu? Biz neden Giritli olmayı seviyoruz?
Girit’in bendeki çoğul anlamlarından sadece birini çekip çıkarmak istiyorum bugün. Dünyanın esas aldığı, Anadolu topraklarında da yaşattığımız Girit mutfağına dair, alıkoyduğumuz ve geride bıraktıklarımızı belirleme girişimi kapsamında, bazı hatırlatmalar yapmak ve adanın coğrafi anlamda gittikçe Afrika kıtasına yaklaşması sebebiyle değişen bitki örtüsü ve dolayısıyla azalmakta olan yabani ot çeşitliliğinin omuzlarımıza yüklediği ağırlıktan, başka bir deyişle ortak sorumluluğumuzdan bahsetmek istiyorum. Günümüz Girit’inde yazık ki sadece dağ köylerinde yaşamaya devam eden Girit mutfak kültürü, turizme yönelik kolay ve hazır gıda üretiminin -özellikle sahil şeridindeki  artışıyla- büyük kayba uğramıştır. Dolayısıyla, bizler kendi payımıza, kendi cephemizde, Girit mutfağına sahip çıktığımız oranda kültürümüz Küçük Asya topraklarında yaşamını sürdürecektir.  
Mutfağımızın zenginliğini bir panele sığdırmak mümkün değil lakin belli başlı öğeleriyle Girit’te ve İzmir’de yaşayan Girit mutfağı arasındaki benzerlikler ve farklılıkları anlatmaya öncelikle arapsaçı veya maratha’dan başlamak istiyorum. Bildiğiniz gibi arapsaçı kemikli kuzu etiyle pişirdiğimiz un ve limon terbiyeli yemeği; mücveri; tarhana, kuru fasulye ve börülce içinde kullandığımız muhteşem bir çeşnidir. Girit’te farklı olarak hala kurutulup erişteye eklenir  ve çeşitli deniz ürünleriyle de pişirilir. Böreklere kazandırdığı enfes aromayı göz ardı edemeyiz. Etli piştiğinde un ve limon yerine, Girit’te yumurta ve limon ilave edilir.
Kemikli kuzu etiyle pişirdiğimiz veya haşlama salatasını sıkça tükettiğimiz şevketi Bostan, nam-ı diğer askalivrus farklı olarak Girit’in dağ köylerinde hala arapsaçıyla veya enginarla birlikte de pişirilmektedir. Lakin artık Girit’te köküyle toplama zahmetine giren olmadığı için çoğunlukla toprağın üzerinde kalan yeşil kısımları kullanılmaktadır. İlk kuşak Müslüman Giritliler, şevketi bostanın haşlandığı suyu gece serinliğinde –genellikle avluda- bekletip, ertesi gün tortunun üzerindeki duru suyu içerek böbrek taşı-kumu dökerlermiş. Ayrıca idrar yolları ile ilgili şikayetlere iyi geldiğine inanırlarmış.
Acı ve tatlı sarmaşık İzmirli Giritlilerce bildiğiniz gibi yaygın olarak taze soğanlı ve yumurtalı pişirilir. Öte yandan Girit’te deniz ürünleriyle veya etle de pişirilmekte, böreklerde peynir ilavesiyle birlikte kullanılmaktadır.  Blog’umu takip edenler bilir, ben avronyez turşusu da yapıyorum.
Ebegümeci veya moloha gözlemelerde, sirke ve un terbiyeli ana yemek şekliyle bildiğimiz başka bir yabani ottur. Girit’te ayrıca sivrisinekleri uzaklaştırmak amacıyla, yaşlıların etraftan toplayıp vücutlarına sürdüklerini de gözlemlemiştim.
Karışık ot, bahçe otu veya çiporta dediğimiz içine domates yaprağına kadar bahçedeki bütün yeşillerin girdiği enfes yaz yemeğimiz hem Girit’te hem İzmir’de hala hatırlanmakta ve gelenek sürdürülmektedir.
Deniz börülcesi ve körmen adıyla da bilinen yabani pırasayı, baharda çitlembik ağacının filizlerinden yaptığımız turşuyu Girit’te bilen, toplayan, tüketen kimseyle henüz karşılaşmadım.
Meşhur yemeğimiz balıklı bamya artık Girit’in unuttuğu lezzetler arasında sayılabilir. Anadolu topraklarında, özellikle Cunda’da hala liste başı yemekler arasındadır. Hem bamyaya hem balığa ekşi yakıştığını göz önünde bulundurursak, umarım bugünden sonrasında deneyleyeceğiniz bir lezzet olarak, tekrar mutfaklarınızla tanışır.
Kemik erimesi ve kıkırdak gelişimi için üretilen ilaçlarda kullanılan salyangoz, çok az sayıda Müslüman Giritli’nin hala tüketmekte olduğu bir lezzettir. Yeşilliklerin sadece filizini yiyerek büyüyen salyangozlara ağız burun kıvırmak yerine, tavuk yediğimizi düşünecek olursak belki önyargılarımızı bir kıyıya bırakabiliriz, ne dersiniz? Bütün yapmamız gereken yağmurdan sonra toplayacağımız salyangozları bir hafta un veya makarnanın içinde bekletmek. Sonra biberiye ve sirkeli buburisti, fırında kabaklı ve domatesli, pilavı, makarnası, çeşitli yabani otlarla birlikte tüketebiliriz. Salyangozlu kozmetik ürünleri almak yerine, içten aynı etkiyi sağlayacak olan ve tadı aynı deniz ürünleri gibi olan salyangozun kendisini yiyebiliriz.
Kabak çiçeği veya anthous’un dolmasını hepimiz severiz. Eğer vakitsizlikten içlerini dolduramazsak, çiçekler kapanır ve o koşulda un ve yumurtayla kızartabiliriz. Maalesef, içleri doldurulmadan kapanan çiçekler Girit’te artık çöpe atılıyor. Çiçek kızartması, bizler hatırladığımız sürece yapılacak başka bir Girit lezzeti.
Stifado veya portakal kabuklu, defneli, tarçınlı et yahni hem Girit’te hem de İzmir’de herhangi bir değişikliğe uğramaksızın hala sofraları şenlendirmektedir ancak tarhana içeriği Girit’te bütünüyle farklıdır; irmik ve sütle veya kesik süte kırık buğday eklenerek mayalanma sürecine başlanır, daha sonra küçük parçalar halinde kurutulur ve kışlık olarak saklanır. Tarhana sadece çorba olarak tüketilmez, tarhanalı ekmek yapılır, dolmaların içine pirinç yerine tarhana koyulur.
Bakla yaprağıyla yapılan eşsiz salata, Girit’te de hala tüketilmektedir. Lakin mustalevria adını verdiğimiz şıra ve nişastayla pişirilen, son derece kolay ve sağlıklı tatlımız Girit’te artık hatırlanmamaktadır. Aile büyüklerimizin jöle kıvamındaki bu lezzeti, güneşte kurutarak küplere depoladıklarını eminim duymuşsunuzdur.  Son derece hafif ve muhteşem bir Girit tadını çocuklarınızın da tatmasını istemez misiniz? Peki en son ne zaman staka yaptınız? Sütün kaymağını biriktirip, unla kavurdunuz ve şekerleyerek yediniz? Staka’nın kilosu Girit’te 15 Euro, İzmir’de satışı yok ve sadece yaşlılarımızdan bir kaçı evlerinde staka yapmaya devam ediyor. 
Oğlak dolma hem adada hem de İzmir’de çok sık olmasa da hala hatırlanmakta olan bir yemeğimiz. Öte yandan kaliçunya, Girit’te sadece anız sütüyle yapılan mizithra peyniriyle hem tatlı hem de tuzlu haliyle masalara kurulurken, Anadolu’da lor peyniri kullanılarak sadece şerbetli tatlısı yapılmaktadır. Yolunuz Girit’e düşer ve kaliçunya yerseniz, sadece Hanya’da tabağın kıyısında bir dal fesleğen görünce şaşırmayın çünkü  kaliçunyanın yanında sadece Hanya’da fesleğen bulunur. Girit’te yiyeceğiniz kalburabastı veya melomakarona şerbete yatırılmaz onun yerine üzerine meşhur Girit balı gezdirilir.
Türkiye’de termiye veya Yahudi baklası olarak bildiğimiz lubunya, idrar yolları iltihabı için şifadır ve atıştırmalık yerine tüketilir. Zeytin gibi acısını atana dek suyu değiştirilir veya çuvallarda iskele ayaklarına bağlanır. Hiç yediniz mi? Veya en son ne zaman termiye yediniz? Peki aramızda kaç kişi hala karpuz, domates, turunç reçeli yapmaya devam ediyor? Gelecek nesillerin de uzun ve kaliteli yaşam sırlarımızı yitirmemesi için ‘yabani otlarımızı’ tanıma, tanıtma ve toplama turları yapmamızın zamanı geçmeye başlamadı mı dersiniz?
Öte yandan çeşitli av etleri Girit’te, İzmir’e kıyasla daha çok tüketilmektedir ve bunun için ava çıkmak da gerekmez. Kasaplarda rahatlıkla bulma olanağı mevcuttur.  Göçle birlikte İzmir’e ulaşmayan farklılıklar arasında ‘Girit mangalı’nı da sayabiliriz. Daire şeklinde bir çember üzerine kargılara geçirilen etler oturtulur. Kargının aroması ete ayrı bir lezzet katar, şişlerin metal olmaması en önemli püf noktasıdır. Ateş çemberin ortasında, etlerden yaklaşık 40-50 cm. mesafededir. Böylece et, ateşi uzaktan görür ve için için tandır kıvamında pişer.  Kendi bahçelerimizde benzer bir düzenek kurarak, Girit’e giderek, unutulan yemekleri geri kazanmaya çalışarak, folklorik öğeleri ve özellikle dilimizi canlı tutarak kültürümüze sahip çıkabiliriz ve esasen kültürümüze sahip çıkmak bizim yükümlülüğümüzdür.
Ben Mübadele’yi yaşamadım ama benim için mübadele devam ediyor çünkü Girit yolculuklarıyla besleniyorum ve bir madinada da söylendiği gibi Giritli olmakla gurur duyuyorum:

«Όπου κι αν πάω κουβαλώ χώμα του Ψηλορείτη, 
και το σκορπώ για να γενεί ούλος ο κόσμος Κρήτη».

Özlem Yaşayanlar
Giritliler Derneği
Girit Kültürü