Kazim
Early in the morning, as the sun was just rising, Uncle Kazım's voice coming back from the field makes the village square explode: "Where the hell are these kids? Breakfast has gone cold, the oxen are hungry!" His cap is slightly tilted to the side, the deep lines on his forehead shine with sweat. His sunburnt skin screams years of labor; His dark wheat colored face is full of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His thick, bushy mustache stands tall above his lips, as if that mustache plowed the field and harvested the crops all by himself. His old shirt with rolled up sleeves is covered in dust, a half-pack of Samsun cigarettes in his vest pocket, and the boys' mixed pocket money in his other pocket. Kazim is the father of five children; The eldest is old enough to join the military, the youngest has just started school. He and his wife Fatma are barely making ends meet in their adobe house. Field, animals, children... All on his back. But he still doesn't complain; "Allah is great, He gives sustenance" he says, then "Allah Allah!" He walks away and continues his work. Now he is standing in the square, with a stick in his hand, while criticizing the neighbors: " Eee Ah
About Kazim
Early in the morning, as the sun was just rising, Uncle Kazım's voice coming back from the field makes the village square explode: "Where the hell are these kids? Breakfast has gone cold, the oxen are hungry!" His cap is slightly tilted to the side, the deep lines on his forehead shine with sweat. His sunburnt skin screams years of labor; His da...Read more