Inferno

Tags

amreading, amwriting, arson, blog post, ecosystem, fire, flora and fauna, Forest fire, heinous motives, inferno, livelihood, loss, Marmaris, Memoir, memories, Muğla, pine forests, True Story, Turkey, writers' community

Marmaris, Muğla ,Turkey 29 July, 2021

One never knows when one is safe in life. I’m sitting in my lounge, with the aircon on, while an inferno builds around me. Outside the temperature is 42+ C, inside, a comfortable 26C. But then it all depends on the electric company, doesn’t it? Once they decide it’s safer to cut my power, I’ll be immersed into the heat. Once the wind turns, from the east to the west, I’ll sit in the middle of the flames burning the pine tree covered hills around me.

Where would I go? Into the pool, I’m thinking, but would I have to stay underwater while the inferno takes me hostage? For how long? Will I survive? Who knows?

This is the fourth day of the fire. No, it’s not a bush fire. I know this for certain. I’ve lived here for the last 11 years, and never seen anything like this. Usually, the fires are local, and firefighters put them out in a few hours. This is different, deliberate, mean and calculated. Set ablaze in various spots. Mankind is the cruellest creature on the planet.

The villages are left on their own. Their livestock, greenhouses, homes, and fields at the mercy of the flames. There is no state, authority to protect them. The president visits the disaster sites in a convoy of hundreds of cars and throws tea bags out of the window. Not flowers, not water, but teabags…

Have I come here to die in an Inferno? I do not know. I miss my hometown, but I also got accustomed to this place which has given me hope. A fake hope, perhaps. Hope is a wish that keeps us going.

At dusk, the scenery resembles an apocalypse, a blood red sky, smell of burning, and the death of the forest. Hot winds blow ash and burnt pine needles everywhere.

In daytime, driving through the once thick woodland, the ghosts of pine trees lament their lost glory. No more the rich green against the azure sky. Only carcasses in brown, dead and dying, weeping. I weep for them, and all the creatures who have lost their homes and perished. It seems it takes 50-60 years for a forest to recover its ecosystem. The flora and the fauna that provide livelihood to the locals. I won’t be around then, but I have seen the best. No one can burn my memories.

So, I wait for fate to turn its wheels. As far as my view and binoculars allow, I watch the forest day and night, to spot intruders with heinous motives. Will the wind change, the power cut, or will I be saved, redeemed, and perhaps understand what I’ve come to learn in this life.

Marmaris, Muğla, Turkey 29 July, 2021

Muğla, Marmaris, İçmeler, then and now, before and after 29 July, 2021

Muğla, Marmaris, villages, forest fire, despair…

Survival

Tags

adaptation, ancient traditions, continuation, crop rotation, developers, evolution, Flash Fiction, fleeting, flora and fauna, harmony, immortality, industry, nature, resilience, spring, survival, threats, tradition, transience, virgin soil

 

 

I wandered into the field along the dirt road to explore the flora and the fauna. A kaleidoscope of spring flowers, dotted with herds of cattle, sheep, horses, and donkeys. The hyper goats and their babies preferred the rocky terrain, on its edge, climbing and leaping from the heights, and feasting on fresh herbs and blooms. The aroma of sage, rosemary, and oregano filled the air. No humans around, though. It seemed the fauna had the scene for their own amusement.

I was not to complain, as I trod on the young grass, taking care not to harm the beauties of early spring along my path.

Settled on a rock, I watched the vibrant scene as the animals shared nature’s bounty. I took photos, viewed them on my camera, and shot some more to capture the ambiance. At the end of the field, the dirt road snaked towards the village on the hills, after passing through a closed gate. The farmers had herded their livestock into the meadow for grazing till sunset.

In this part of the world, Spring is brief, fleeting like our youth. Hot summer sun burns the grass. The only plants that survive are the trees and thorny bushes. Flowers fade and the green becomes yellow.

I left the meadow with the villagers who came to gather their animals and lead them into the sheds. They offered me coffee at the coffee shop where men smoked and played backgammon. They were dressed in their all year round outfits, jackets worn over shirts, and trousers   The sound of rolling dice against the wooden board mixed with the background noise from the TV on the wall. Noisy, but not disturbing. Not that these people cared about what was happening in the world or in the country. Their world was their village. They had lived that way for centuries, despite devastating events that changed the lives of many. It was their way of survival, like the thorny bushes.

The village head, an old man swinging his worry beads around his wrist, sat next to me and spoke.

“Photographer lady, will you make us famous?”

“I take pictures for my own pleasure. If I publish or sell them, I rarely mention the place. Would you like me to?”

“Yes and no,” he said, taking a big slurp from his coffee. “This is still a protected site, but we don’t know how long it will last.” He pointed to the TV and folded his arms. “The developers are viewing the land, taking photos and measuring. We may not be able to live this way for long.”

I knew what he was talking about. Land profiteers, vultures that thrive on virgin soil. They were everywhere, digging mines, shaving off mountains, building hotel complexes, marinas, and power plants.

“What they do is against nature,” I said. “Yet, they have supporters in the government.”

“Isn’t it always so?”

“I came here to photograph Spring on these ancient lands. I witnessed it once before, but never managed to visit at the right time again when the combination of the animals and nature exist in such harmony.”

“Once harvest is over, the animals graze in the fields on the other side of the gate. Crop rotation, a four-hundred-year-old tradition.” He pointed to the area, peeking from beyond the houses.

“Spring is transient,” I said.

“Isn’t life?” he answered with a smile, tipping the brim of his flat cap.

 

I loaded my bags containing herbs, honey, and almonds from the local shop into the car, and left the village. Driving through magnificent scenery washed in the colours of sunset, I pondered whether I was spring grass, a thorny bush or an evergreen. Grass renews itself and dies, then comes back again. A thorny bush survives all circumstances. Nature is resilient. Bougainvillea bloom, pine trees grow into forests, from the tiny seeds hidden in their cones.

I decided not to publish any of the photos on my website. Let it be a well-kept secret, on my part. Perhaps I could post them as historical documents in the future.

 

 

 

Photos from Google

The Healer

Tags

addiction, agony, animals, clairvoyance, connection, devotion, flora and fauna, gossip, gratitude, healer, healing, helping, herbs, lotions, love, nature's gifts, people, plants, potions, sadness, seer, slander, therapeutic, witch

 A woman’s story for Women’s Day and Women’s History Month

Amber left the last town behind her, deciding village life would be better for her. All she wanted to do was to help people with her gift, but it always back-fired. After the gossip and slander, she had ended up as an outcast. The medical authorities criticized her, calling her a charlatan, a witch, and a quack with a sick mind. The people she healed were grateful and awarded her with donations though she never asked for a fee. Going from town to town, she sometimes stopped at fair grounds and practised her clairvoyance skills. She would sit in a stall and feel the people before they walked in. A single glance into their eyes told her their stories and their future, a future sometimes she felt she should not impart.

She arrived at a charming seaside village called Mermaid’s Cove and strolled down the narrow cobbled streets, looking around. Not too big, not too small, this is just fine. A two-storey stone house with an overgrown garden came into view. She felt sadness coming through its windows. The drapes drawn tight across. The front door looked forlorn, its paint chipped and splintered, colour faded. An estate agent’s sign caught her attention and she stepped in.

“I’m looking for a house to rent. The stone house around the corner, is it available? It looks deserted.”

“No, madam, that house is occupied. A lady lives there with her daughter. I have a small cottage by the woods if you’d like. It’s in perfect condition and has a lovely garden.”

When Amber saw the cottage of honey-coloured stone and a thatched roof, she fell in love and rented it. In the village, she bought a bicycle, some provisions, and returned to spend her first night in her new home. Before she went to sleep, thoughts crossed her mind. Never deal with people, again. A castaway in a sea-side village, that’s what I’m going to be.

The new day dawned with the sounds of nature. Birds chirping, a squirrel munching nuts on a tree by the open window. She stood and watched, inhaling the sweet aroma of the herbs and blossoms. Sitting in the garden with a cup of tea, she observed her new surroundings vibrant with the activity of the flora and the fauna.

Over the following days, Amber discovered herbs in the meadows and the forest she could make her potions from. She called all animals in distress to her garden. They came, with their injured limbs, wounds, bites, and many birds with broken wings. She healed them applying her lotions and treatments, gave them love and set them free once they recovered from their ailments.

The children of the village visited her garden and saw the animals recuperating. They called her Lady Healer, and brought their pets in need of attention. Amber told them stories about the animals and the therapeutic plants that helped them. The word spread with the wind and even the village Vet brought her cases he had difficulties dealing with. Sometimes she went along with him to farms in the neighbourhood and helped him diagnose the problems.

One day a woman came to her door. Amber took one look at her and knew she was the lady who owned the stone house in the village.

“Hi,” she said, “Can I help you?”

“I believe you can.”

“You’re in pain. Someone close to you is in distress.”

“Can you help, please?”

“I only deal with animals, not with people.”

“But you’re a healer, aren’t you?”

“That’s what people say. I try to help the animals in pain. People hurt me if I perform healing on them.”

“I understand how some people can be cruel and ungrateful. If I tell you I have spent a fortune trying to cure my daughter’s addiction, would you believe me?”

“I can see it, yet, like I said …”

“If I tell you she’s only twenty-eight, her teeth are falling from crack cocaine and she only weighs forty-five kilos, would you consider it? I’ve tried everything. Psychologists, psychiatrists, rehab, acupuncture, hypnotism … nothing worked. Meanwhile, I have sold and spent the funds from four properties. My house here is the last property I own, inherited from my parents. If I don’t give her money, she goes into prostitution. She’s had three abortions, and the last one was after five months of pregnancy. Murder, but that baby would never be normal. If I give her money, she indulges. Please help.”

Amber looked at the mother’s anguished face and pondered. “Does she want to be healed? If not, nothing will work.”

“She does, yet doesn’t want to go through any of the treatments again.”

Amber sighed, this was a test. “If she does, she must come here and tell me. I have one condition. No one must know.”

“You have my word. I’ll never tell anyone. Thank you.”

Jade, the young woman with a hazy, green gaze showed up at Amber’s doorstep the next morning. Her eyes spoke, yet Amber needed to hear it.

“Help me, please.”

“I need an assistant to look after my animals, convalescing. They need love and care. Can you do it, regularly, on my schedule?”

“I love animals.”

“Good. Follow me.”

Amber showed her the herbs and plants stacked in jars on the shelves in the kitchen, and instructed her about their therapeutic qualities. Marigold, coriander, lemon balm, mint, mullein, thyme, oregano, rosemary, lavender, chamomile, St John’s wort, capers, sage, nettles and wild mushrooms. Then, her herbal mixtures for different remedies. Afterwards, she made a list for Jade’s chores.

Each day before Jade left, Amber gave a her a cup of herb tea. A week later, Jade’s eyes looked brighter, her skin fresh and youthful. She was good with the animals, she spoke their language.

At the end of three months, Jade, completely rehabilitated, continued her education to become a veterinary physician, and helped Amber with the animals during her school-breaks.

Amber cycled down to the harbour, sat on a bench and watched the sea. Castaway on a fishing village to save a soul …