Café Efsane
The Café by the New Mosque was called the Café Efsane.
Whenever friends were going to Istanbul, I would ask if they would go and say hello to the waiters of the Café Efsane and maybe look for the little boy Yilmaz. Some of my friends took my photos with them to give to the little boy. But none of them ever had the chance to meet him. All the waiters are still there, calling out to and greeting their customers. The last person to go to Istanbul for me was my mother but the waiters told her that Yilmaz is not a little boy anymore, he is a young man. I think he would be about 16 years old now. And they told my mother Yilmaz had left Istanbul and gone back to his city that was 24 hours away by bus in south eastern Turkey.
Maybe he got frightened of all these foreigners asking for him. I don’t blame him.
I always believe that one day I will see Yilmaz again. Maybe it will be when I am an old woman and he is a man with a family of little children of his own. I wonder if he will ever forget me? Someone of knowledge told me that it is doubtful he will forget, because I was so out of the ordinary of his daily life. Another person told me that I was probably the first person in his life to be kind to him. I hope that this is not the case. But the life of a child who has to work on the streets to support his family and live without the care of his mother at such a young age is a cruel life. I did what I could for one child because I owed that much to him.
A very religious friend of mine once told me that Jesus said that when you look into the eyes of a poor man, you will see the eyes of God. Perhaps that is what compelled me beyond rationality to seek out this child in the city of 15 million to give the photographs to him. I didn’t think I would find him again, but just as I was sitting alone at a table at the Café Efsane on the third day, thinking that perhaps my quest was irrational, I looked up to see the child standing between the two of the waiters before me. I almost cried because it was a miracle.
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Pingback from Another Sees Yilmaz | Imagine Istanbul
Time: April 4, 2008, 12:29 am
[...] of my readers sent me a long, superbly written comment about this website on a posting about the Café Efsane. She believes that she too met the little boy of Istanbul. It our world that becomes smaller today. [...]
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Comment from teresa
Time: April 1, 2008, 4:12 pm
My dearest lady, thank you for your visions and stories. I too saw the little boy of Istanbul. We took a trip, mid summer, last July, to pray and to learn what this ancient city would speak to us. The Man of Peace, took us there, to that city with broken walls and firm foundations. I believe He took us there to weep and to love. To weep for so many who have abused faith for wars, to love not just a land, or a history, but a people dear to Him. To see His glory was more intense in the eyes of the market man, than in a thousand beatiful sunsets over the Bosphorous.
On a Tuesday, late in the night in an upper room, as we prayed and sang, I saw a street. It seemed so real, that I keep opening my eyes to see if I was there. THe air in the room felt like outside air, the Peace that I felt was as rich as a perfume. I felt we were all outside on this beautiful street singing for our love –Isa. I didn’t see Him in this vision, but it seemed that at any moment, He would be there among us, walking down this street. It was overwhelming, but in a most beautiful way.
Two nights later, we walked near Taksim, down Istiklal. I loved this part of town, it felt so alive and the people so excited. We sat in a cafe and had some demli tea. Then as the sun was setting, we made our way back to catch the 10:00 ferry. We walked down an alley where all the music stores and street musicians reminded me our our night of singing. I began to tell our Istanbul friends about what I had seen in my vision. Just as I started descibing the street scene, we turned a corner, and I looked up and saw the exact street. My whole body trembled at this sign. Never has heaven felt so close. But what did it mean? and why had our time ran out? It was almost 10:00. When went back home, but I was determined to return. Two days later, my husband and I went back. We had to. This beautiful force of love and mystery compelled us. We spent the evening on Istiklal and talked with different store keepers, sometimes turkish, sometimes spanish, and of course our native tongue. We wanted to know why this place, these people are so special.
Again as the cresent moon won over the sun, we made our way back down the same narrow streets. We found the place of the vision and sat down. We weren’t expecting much, and we simply started to sing. It was lovely and peaceful, and after singing for a while, we were about to leave. Just then, a young boy came over to us and kneeled down. He was only about 12, a Kurdish boy. He asked if he could shine our shoes. Of course he could. He shined my husbands brown leather shoes and talked about his family and that he helps support them with this work. Then he wanted to shine my shoes, but I wanted to just give him money so he could get home before dark. He insisted. He cleaned my shoes and when he looked in my eyes, I felt I was looking into the eyes of Jesus. He was there. Somehow in this little boy, I saw God.
He will not shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.