Notes from the 125th day of Hunger
Good morning to you all … to the pictures at my bed side, The pictures on by bed side which I look as I open my eyes: love of my wife, the picture of Nuriye, the column writers of the columns I tacked on the bulletin board; to the 111 intellectuals who has signed for us on our 111th day, to our allies who go on definite or indefinite hunger strikes to support us; to the ones who resist or will resist for bread out there; to the ones who doesn’t withhold their support from us; the ones who ask for our jobs to be given back to us; to the ones who saves a spot for us in the corner of their minds; to the conscience people who get upset for us staying in hunger; to the birds who wake me up with their cheeps and sounds coming from the ventilation in my room; and to all the birds away, far away from here at where I cannot see, and to all flying mammalians and the others, all the flightless mammalians and the others, all the vertebrates and invertebrates, all bacteria and plankton; all the insects and parasites, all of the microorganisms and viruses; atoms and all the known and unknown subatomic particles… Good morning to you all. Good morning to my hope and my belief, good morning to the one who doesn’t withhold their hope and keep their hopes growing, the ones who fight for a just world, the ones who learn to fight and the ones who know by fighting, to friends and allies; good morning to all of you as every single day we go out to brightness. For the name of the bright days, good morning to everybody.
Although they are pretty similar to each other, days go by. My cell is different from yesterday, the battery of my desk clock is lower, a bit more. A ramp has been made in my cell by pouring cement in front of it. It is, in fact, to deceive the inspectors coming to check the conditions of the prison for me to stay in, but they will say it is for me to enter and leave the cell with the wheelchair. While I was a child I had witnessed my sisters and brothers writing their names and the date, on the newly split cement. I have never had such a chance. (They made two ramps, one at the entrance of the cell, the other at the entrance of the ventilation.) Taking advantage of the opportunity, I wrote on the cement, while it was wet, with capitals, “Long live our hunger strike resistance! / Nuriye-Semih/ 10.07.2017″ and “We want our jobs back! / 124th Day of Hunger! / 10.07.2017”.
My cell keeps changing, my muscles are weakening, my bones are weakening, and my mind is becoming clearer; I can see and understand the conflicts of life more easily, my thoughts get sharpened and prominent. I, who used to like to sleep while I was out there, has gone. Now, I try to sleep less to be more disciplined, programmed and to build myself up. There are so much to think and to do. How can a man sleep, with the most prominent meaning of the word, while massacres take place every second, while dozens of kids die without being born, just because malnutrition; while many who search for hope and cannot find, get depressed in the face of injustice; while imperialism and capitalism does not hold themselves back from attacking excessively as the main responsible of this situation? How can a person who wants his job back, who thinks of his love’s hunger, who misses his students, stay ease?
Furthermore, let’s take from this angle: Weather is warm, windows and doors are open all the way to the end, and because of my condition, fierce flies piled in the cell, laying an ambush for me. They are not leaving, or showing themselves, or making any noise. As a man who is not nourishing himself, my energy is going down every second. I turn my lights off and lie down in my bed. The mosquitos, marching from every corner, are finding my bloodiest veins, and attacking. I say, “Please, go away!” slapping it on its body. I even like the whirring of the flies, and watch their sloppiness (while they are flying around). But at that moment, but the moment they drive me crazy, I remove them from the category of bugs and by taking my power from god I attack. How quick can a man be who runs short of energy? I get up, open the lights, and I wait for the mosquitos which I considered to be bugs before, but they never leave. I give up, and start walking around the cell. I look at the isolated corner of my cell; with my eyes, which has lost its sharpness a while ago as my organs which has been controlling my senses and my sight have started to lose their abilities. I get tired and go back to my long-termed waiting. They come back. Whatever whom may say, at that moment, the most “organized force” in the cell is the mosquito army. How no one can defeat an organized nation, no one can neither defeat an organized army of mosquitos. As it was told, in one of the Temel narratives; he could sleep comfortably when he killed one the bugs as all the other bugs goes to the funeral of the deceased. As to apply what is told in the narratives doesn’t serve a purpose, it causes you to get your hands covered with blood, in this case, with your own blood. Other mosquitos turn it into a matter of honor, and want to suck the blood of their enemy even more viciously. I furiously, remember the quote from Eduardo Galeano: “Why did Noah take the mosquitos on his ship?” Then he also asks a question about a saint whom he apparently considers as a gentle man: “Does St. Francis of Assisi also like the mosquitos?” You can make sure, the prophet Noah, would not take two mosquitos on board without convincing them by talking. And he probably regretted that choice. Because no matter what you say they will not be convinced and leave.
At the first glance, you may consider this diary of mine under the title of “the damned mosquito of the state”. However, you can be sure of that I am one of the rare people who, when faced with the question “Do you like mosquitoes?”, would reply ” Yes, I do like the mosquitos just a bit. At least I don’t hate them.”
As I wrote in the beginning of my letter, that everything changes, including my thoughts. What happened so that I stopped being the enemy of mosquitoes. Everything has started with this animation movie. It’s titled as “The Ant Bully”. The film reaches its climax when a lonely kid spends time in a garden and fills water in the ants’ nest. Then, with kind of a magic potion? the ants make the kid smaller and join their collective life. They fight against the pest control (who comes for the mosquitos) all together. Henceforth, the mosquitos who fight in harmony, achieved to gain my respect. I won’t tell you all about the film in detail. In sum, I don’t hate the mosquitos anymore. Besides. I think they are skinny and sympathetic animals.
However, I must admit that, there are two types of mosquitos in this life: the good ones and the wicked ones. The good ones always have a place on my veins. For the wicked ones, I am still an enemy of them. Because beyond their nutrition needs, they whirr around your ears to annoy you. And this meaningless flood of words, continue to annoy you despite all the animation movies that changed your point of view towards them.
However, never forget this: Under isolation conditions, the bugs and the birds have a significant importance. They are from the rare species which tells you “You will never walk alone in this path of life”.
If there still are some people whom I could not have convinced with my words about the bugs and on the mosquitos, think it in this way: If it hadn’t been for the mosquitos you wouldn’t be reading the last section of this letter. Huh, are you saying, ‘ So what if I hadn’t read this part?”
So be it…
Take good care of yourselves.
Good bye.
Semih

Let me present you a poem as a gift:
Bugs
Flying whilst whirring, clumsily
The fly who forges to land
Don’t you have any courage
To get out that door You’ve entered before?
Crosswords are asking you,
A word with seven letters
First and fourth letter ‘A’
And the fifth letter”R”
What would you say to such a question?
“Whirrrrr?” as usual?
11.07.17 / Sincan