Streetcar named Discord

“No – I will not elope with you! I cannot betray my family at their time of most need, my father the Sultan, and my mother, the Valide Sultan.”

It was signed with an initial Z.

The note was written in Ottoman Arabic.

Kemal crumbled the piece of paper in his clenched hand, and then a fraction of a second later unclenched his fist. The movements, though subtle and unnoticed by the pedestrian traffic, reflected the many conflicting emotions inside his head, anger, frustration and sadness. It was the end of the relationship; his written proposal had been rejected. Briefly his unclenched fist held the note, and then a sudden gust of wind caused by the passing horseless red tram snatched the paper, and as it was held aloft, it looked like a paper dart.

“Silly, stupid girl! Living in the past, a past soon to be removed forever!” Kemal muttered under his breath, behind his clenched teeth.

It would be his final thoughts of remorse, as he gathered himself, turned, and marched down the street. His self-discipline quickly returned; Kemal the officer cadet in his immaculate uniform, marched steadfastly down the busy street towards his future.

*******

The red tram heaved, strained and simultaneously sucked up maximum electric power from the overhead power cables, as it climbed always upwards towards Taksim Square along the snaking main thoroughfare of Cumhuriyet Caddesi of Constantinople. The Taksim line distinctive red trams had recently been introduced in the busy area of Beyoğlu and had been modernized and converted from being horse drawn. Horsepower was replaced by a cleaner, quieter form of power. Some of the residents of the Beyoğlu district of Constantinople, didn’t like the change, and missed the sight of the horses struggling and sweating to pull the fully laden trams up the hill. The horses were a comfort and sense of old familiarity, in a world wrecked and in turmoil, now recovering from a terrible world war. Some of the horses were honoured with nicknames, as the children chose their favorites and often fed them juicy apples at the tram stops. In comparison the new electric trams were anonymous, quiet and without character. Some of the Beyoğlu residents were nearly run down by the quiet electric monsters, as the local residents reported. “They sneak up on you from behind, just like those infidels, at least the horses would always snort a warning” Unfortunately, the Beyoğlu district was losing its reputation as an area of modernity, once full of foreigners with their many varying customs. It was always a contrast to the rest of the city which hadn’t changed much in the last 100 years.

It did not go unnoticed to the rest of the city, straddling both east with the vast continent of Asia and west with continental Europe, that the district of Beyoğlu was the first to be converted to the electric red trams.

Although Beyoğlu district was gaining a new form of city transportation, at the same time it was losing some long-standing foreign inhabitants. This time it was the exodus from Constantinople of the philanthropic Greek shopkeepers and traders who had played a role for years as representatives of contrasting customs and opposing religious beliefs to the Islamic state of the Ottomans. Before the Great War Northern Greece and Macedonia had been part of the Ottoman empire, and these inhabitants had settled in the city, Constantinople; the heart and soul of the ageing empire. It was a symbol of conquest and yet paradoxical benevolence. A show of tolerance towards continued differences. It was a compromise to facilitate trade and commerce within and outside the vast empire. Furthermore, it was a necessity to embrace other cultures and religions, and part of an important strategy of saving the Ottoman empire from completely falling into the hands of the religious zealots of the caliphate. The religious dictators with their heads and hearts stuck in the Middle Ages. To these short-sighted and intolerant people surrounding the ruling sultans, they always lived in an intolerant past. All foreigners were the infidel and couldn’t be trusted just like the new quiet stealth like sneaky electric trams.

Once one of the greatest empires in human history, which ruled vast lands for more than 600 years, was now imploding. The Ottoman Empire was like a dying prehistoric animal; the stench of its demise was strong in the air of the world after the Great War. Now the empire was defeated, its outdated political and social ideologies vulnerable, as the new world order attacked from all directions. Both literally and figuratively. Like the hovering eagles of revenge wanting their retribution and divine justice. By the same people, the same countries and the same races the Ottomans had once ruled over for many hundreds of years.

Kemal sat proudly on the electric red tram dressed immaculately in his cadet officer’s uniform. It was one of his continued pleasures to wear a uniform, as it set him apart. Since he commenced military school all those years ago it was always a privilege to be able to dress with a sense of efficiency and purpose. In his western style military uniform, he felt removed from the rags and various loose-fitting dresses of normal people of the region. Wearing his uniform gave Kemal a feeling of superiority over others, it bordered on an aloof over confidence in the young man. Like many young boys growing up in the Ottoman empire, just like all great empires before or hence, the single power needed a well-trained sword to protect the lands and keep the people’s minds focused and disciplined. The well-trained sword was the military, which would strike briskly and mercilessly whenever there was an appearance of any vipers of descent. Or the emergence of the slightest smell of resistance to oppose the rule of the sultans, and the Ottoman empire.

Kemal was born in northern Greece, from mixed parentage. He joined a military academy from the age of twelve due to his early academic prowess, as well as the dying wishes of his father.

Zeynep always got on at the next stop after Kemal. Kemal made a point to be on the tram at the very time Zeynep would enter the hard wooden seated carriage. The carriage was segregated with a curtain divider from the ceiling halfway down, separating the carriage from the men only section, and another section for single women or women with children. One could still see the bottom half of the passengers in the other section, but not their upper parts of their bodies or their faces. It was only at the tram stop or in the street that the person on the tram became fully visible. The segregation on the trams of Constantinople, and the curtain divider were a halfhearted attempt to create privacy, resulting only in an act of false modesty. The introduction of this new modern form of public transport was in complete conflict with medieval Ottoman society and culture. For example, the cloistered inner cycle of the sultan’s hareem, which had not changed for a millennium, was full of intrigue and secrecy. Life in the sultan's harem was a blend of luxury, conspiracy, and political power, with its complex social institution.

This archaic dictatorship with its own hierarchy, politics, and cultural life was about to come to end.

Zeynep was part of this luxurious complex society. Born and raised in this unusual, yet outdated community, she knew no different.

She grew up not knowing her father or her mother. The children of the hareem grew up together in a creche like environment, suckled at birth by various bountiful mothers, and taught how to walk, talk and cry by many mentoring females, as well as many siblings, and stepsiblings. The sultan’s hareem life was private, protected and cloistered, and had existed as a social institution for hundreds of years.

Sitting on the red tram she was dressed in the Topkapi Palace finest clothes, long flowing skirts, and a blouse and fine embroidered tunic. Her female style fez was adorned with decorative chains both around the fez hat, and around her blouse and tunic. Her long black hair was braided and hung like rope tresses downwards to her waist.

Zeynep was high up in the social strata of the hareem, so it would be shocking news to other members of the hareem if they knew the reason she was riding the horseless red tram. It was a dangerous and undisclosed secret, a clandestine meeting with a young officer cadet. Zeynep’s reputation would be forever tarnished, and she would be demoted from her high position in the social circles of the hareem at the palace if it ever became known.

For weeks Kemal had sat next to the partitioned carriage and always craned his neck to get a glimpse of the stranger. He knew based on her fine clothes, a gypsy style from a previous wandering nomad time, the Anatolian origins of the Ottomans, she was part of closed inner circle of the Sultan. Any relationship with this girl would be a dangerous liaison. Nonetheless, he decided to write a note containing his admiration for her beauty and pass it secretly to Zeynep sitting in the other segregated carriage. The plan would only work if she sat next to him on the other side of the privacy curtain, which even in a sitting position prevented either side from seeing the top half view of the body. Nonetheless, even with this restriction he knew he would recognize her by her fine clothes.

The plan worked, as Zeynep slender gloved hand captured and at the same time covered the written note, which was slid along the common wooden seat of the red tram. Although their secret rendezvous, traveling together on the horseless red tram of the Taksim line lasted for only a short time, their lives had collided, the young officer cadet, and beautiful girl from the Topkapi Palace hareem. For a moment in time, it also represented a fleeting meeting in time of the old dying world order with the birth of the new.