Read Online Evan's Gallipoli by Kerry Greenwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Kerry Greenwood
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5th
We had a stroke of luck today. A carriage came past and drew to a halt when the driver saw Isaiah. He called out to us and offered us a lift into the next village. Father is finding walking hard so we accepted. It was very bouncy and uncomfortable but so fast! The miles flew by. Soon we were in Kadikoy. It is a nice village with stone houses and the driver took us into the stable and said we could stay there for the night. Isaiah gave him some salt wrapped in paper. The driver seemed very pleased with this. Perhaps salt is valuable here. The driver says he is not Muslim and invited us into the house attached to the stable. There was a crucifix on the wall of the dining room. We were offered water to wash inâI accepted, Abdul did notâand a meal with luxuries like oranges. The driver is called Ezekiel. He is much younger than Isaiah, a jolly man with curly hair and white teeth. He has three little daughters and a wife who is a very good cook and he says that he is happy. We all sat down around the low table and I ate too much. It was all so good. Lamb cooked on skewers and rice with cinnamon. Father said grace and we all bowed our heads. The stable had a good load of hay for so late in the season. I am full and sleepy.
August 6th
We must take the paths to the sea now; the road goes inland to Erikli. Isaiah urged Father to rest for the day until his feet heal a bitâhe has blistersâand tomorrow we might be able to hitch a lift some of the way to the sea with the carts that carry fish from the fishing villages. They must be pretty smelly by the time they reach the inland. In Australia we say that three days out of the sea and the fish should only be fed to cats. Bit harsh on the cats, I say. I have nothing to do and I really donât want to leave Father. He seems to be a bit feverish and wandering in his wits today. Isaiah has gone out to sell things and Abdul has vanished and there is just Father, me and the horses in this stable. I wish I had a book to read. I wish that thief Mehmet hadnât stolen my Iliad . Iâm still angry with him. It is a fault over which I must pray. I must forgive Mehmet.
LATER I tried really hard to forgive Mehmet but I still hate him. I am a flawed soul. But I already knew that.
August 7th
Got to some unnamed village by fish cart. I am so bruised and I stink to heaven. More later, after I have a wash.
LATER Thatâs better. I have also washed my shirt and trousersâwith soap, in hot water! We are staying in the garden pavilion of a lady called Rachel. Isaiah gave me a message to deliver for him and she asked us to stay. This is a beautiful garden. There are lots of climbing plants, flowers, even a patch of green lawn. When I was all clean again I lay down on it and breathed in the scent of green. I was so happy that I almost fell asleep. Father just murmured that it was the Garden of Eden. He is sitting on the garden bench staring at the budding plants. The air smells of water. I hope that we might stay here tomorrow too. It is Sunday, after all. Abdul vanished into another house. It is still Ramadan so I expect that he has gone to his mosque. These people are very devout. I was sorry to say goodbye to Isaiah but he said that we might meet again.
August 8th
Rachel said that we could stay until tomorrow. No one has asked after us in this village. She said that one should not travel on oneâs holy day. I think that she is Jewish, so her holy day is Saturday, not Sunday. She sent her servants, who are Turkish, to bring us food. They told me that she is a great lady and kind, but not to be crossed. I am surrounded with the scent of flowers. Father is right: heaven is like this. As a great treat Rachel sent us some sherbet. It is like little ice crystals flavoured with lemon and rosewater. Sort of like ice cream without the cream. I have never tasted anything so delicious. I repaired and washed all our clothes and put a patch on Fatherâs boot. Abdul
We had a stroke of luck today. A carriage came past and drew to a halt when the driver saw Isaiah. He called out to us and offered us a lift into the next village. Father is finding walking hard so we accepted. It was very bouncy and uncomfortable but so fast! The miles flew by. Soon we were in Kadikoy. It is a nice village with stone houses and the driver took us into the stable and said we could stay there for the night. Isaiah gave him some salt wrapped in paper. The driver seemed very pleased with this. Perhaps salt is valuable here. The driver says he is not Muslim and invited us into the house attached to the stable. There was a crucifix on the wall of the dining room. We were offered water to wash inâI accepted, Abdul did notâand a meal with luxuries like oranges. The driver is called Ezekiel. He is much younger than Isaiah, a jolly man with curly hair and white teeth. He has three little daughters and a wife who is a very good cook and he says that he is happy. We all sat down around the low table and I ate too much. It was all so good. Lamb cooked on skewers and rice with cinnamon. Father said grace and we all bowed our heads. The stable had a good load of hay for so late in the season. I am full and sleepy.
August 6th
We must take the paths to the sea now; the road goes inland to Erikli. Isaiah urged Father to rest for the day until his feet heal a bitâhe has blistersâand tomorrow we might be able to hitch a lift some of the way to the sea with the carts that carry fish from the fishing villages. They must be pretty smelly by the time they reach the inland. In Australia we say that three days out of the sea and the fish should only be fed to cats. Bit harsh on the cats, I say. I have nothing to do and I really donât want to leave Father. He seems to be a bit feverish and wandering in his wits today. Isaiah has gone out to sell things and Abdul has vanished and there is just Father, me and the horses in this stable. I wish I had a book to read. I wish that thief Mehmet hadnât stolen my Iliad . Iâm still angry with him. It is a fault over which I must pray. I must forgive Mehmet.
LATER I tried really hard to forgive Mehmet but I still hate him. I am a flawed soul. But I already knew that.
August 7th
Got to some unnamed village by fish cart. I am so bruised and I stink to heaven. More later, after I have a wash.
LATER Thatâs better. I have also washed my shirt and trousersâwith soap, in hot water! We are staying in the garden pavilion of a lady called Rachel. Isaiah gave me a message to deliver for him and she asked us to stay. This is a beautiful garden. There are lots of climbing plants, flowers, even a patch of green lawn. When I was all clean again I lay down on it and breathed in the scent of green. I was so happy that I almost fell asleep. Father just murmured that it was the Garden of Eden. He is sitting on the garden bench staring at the budding plants. The air smells of water. I hope that we might stay here tomorrow too. It is Sunday, after all. Abdul vanished into another house. It is still Ramadan so I expect that he has gone to his mosque. These people are very devout. I was sorry to say goodbye to Isaiah but he said that we might meet again.
August 8th
Rachel said that we could stay until tomorrow. No one has asked after us in this village. She said that one should not travel on oneâs holy day. I think that she is Jewish, so her holy day is Saturday, not Sunday. She sent her servants, who are Turkish, to bring us food. They told me that she is a great lady and kind, but not to be crossed. I am surrounded with the scent of flowers. Father is right: heaven is like this. As a great treat Rachel sent us some sherbet. It is like little ice crystals flavoured with lemon and rosewater. Sort of like ice cream without the cream. I have never tasted anything so delicious. I repaired and washed all our clothes and put a patch on Fatherâs boot. Abdul
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