Shining for 70 years...
Güncelleme Tarihi:
by Aslı Sağlam
Oluşturulma Tarihi: Mayıs 23, 2009 00:00
ISTANBUL - A veteran of one of Nişantaşı’s main thoroughfares, Hasan Gelir has seen nearly 70 years of Istanbul’s best - and worst - stroll past his longtime shoeshine stand near a mosque. Nostalgic for a past he says was kinder and more generous, Gelir works every day, rain or shine, to eke out a living
After working the streets of Nişantaşı for nearly seven decades, 73-year-old Hasan Gelir is witness to the daily parade of the rich, the poor, the generous and the ill-mannered Ğ all from his shoeshine stand in front of Teşvikiye Mosque.
Staging his shoeshine stand on the sidelines of jet setters’ daily paths, Gelir waits for customers as he has for nearly seven decades. Wearing his colorful but worn out work uniform, which is the same as his daily outfit except for his blue armbands, he takes out his polish and black brush and puts them neatly next to his stand. While settled amid the city’s loud voices, honking cars in standstill traffic and the sound of businesswomen’s clacking heels, Gelir greets a few passersby throughout the day.
Gelir sits in front of the mosque and looks around with smiling eyes, no matter what he faces during the day. He was not born in Istanbul, but he is one of the few people who can recall the neighborhood when there were not more than 10 cars driving the streets and there were still some green fields left.
Gelir is a true braveheart. After his father died, he decided to move to Istanbul from Konya. Although his mother cried for him not to leave her with his seven siblings, he bought a ticket to the most talked-about city anyway. The bus ticket was 25 kuruş back then, and he was only 7 years old, hitting the road to begin a new life by himself in Istanbul.
Gelir knew there were many people from Konya who settled in Istanbul long before he arrived in the city, and he said that partly encouraged him. But he faced his life’s first disappointment when he met his kinsmen in Istanbul, as no one was willing to lend him a hand because they were struggling to stay alive in the big city.
"I was walking around, and I thought I should buy a shoeshine stand to start working to fill my stomach," he said. Gelir bought his first stand in Eminönü, walked all the way to Nişantaşı and placed his shoeshine stand there.
"I was there, and then I moved 5 meters left, and here is my last spot. That’s how much I moved in 66 years," Gelir said.
Pointing to a consulate building and chain restaurant Saray Muhallebicisi, Gelir said, it is impossible to earn money in a rich man’s world. "They did not let me open my shoeshine stand in front of their businesses. That’s why I came here," he said, sighing. "Nişantaşı has changed so much, and it’s not only the looks of the neighborhood. It’s also the people that have changed in time."
Gelir remembers the past, and it is obvious that he misses it. Back then, he was supported by the people living in the area. Even if they did not need their shoes shined, they offered him food, water and, most of the time, tea. "Today they do not even offer a glass of water," he said.
When he was a kid, he worked everyday, no matter if it was raining or snowing in Istanbul, but he was offered a place inside the apartments to stay dry and to avoid getting sick. Comparing the genuine Istanbul people of the past with today’s complex population, Gelir said they don’t let him get close to the entrances of the apartments today.
Although time has changed everything, he has still continued to do the same job on the exact same street for more than half a century. "When I first started working, there weren’t many buildings on Teşvikiye Avenue. The owners of the land, the people who were born here in Nişantaşı, died here Ğ most of them are now beneath the earth," he said, adding that he could not remember how many governments had come and gone.
The only concrete things he has in his life, besides the dingy and simple shoeshine stand, are his apartment in Okmeydanı, which he bought with the savings he gathered over 70 years, his wife, whom he met in Konya, and his six children, who, with the exception of one, did not go to school, just like him. "One of them is a sergeant major in Kahramanmaraş," he said proudly.
Gelir has a young head on old shoulders. Even though he wishes he could be young again, he would never consider doing another job. "Besides what could I do? I can’t even read and write properly," he said.
Over time Gelir has faced other disappointments in Istanbul. One time, after Gelir greeted a rich man, the man scolded him saying, "Is it your business to say hello to me?" Since then, Gelir says he barely says hello to rich people with clean-cut suits passing by.
"The big fish eat the small fish; this is the tenet of the world. The financial crises that have hit the world can be felt in rich neighborhoods as well. Actually, according to the poor, the rich complain more than they do," he said. "I was happy with what I earned in the past but today, especially this year, there are days I don’t even earn a kuruş," he said. Gelir began talking about his competitors that popped up in his area a few years ago, which he said makes it harder for him to earn money. A flower vendor woman broke into the conversation saying, "I couldn’t even make the first sale of the day. And he has been here for nearly all his life. We never ask for too much, we only want to have a healthy life, but that is also impossible in these conditions."
The woman, Sevim Portakal, said she considers Gelir her big brother. Portakal sells a few different flowers next to Gelir and is someone for him to talk to during the day. They often chat and commiserate.
The shoe shiner, who says he has no memories other than work, stands like a historic statue that was saved from the past. After recalling the good old days, he starts looking for shoes to shine.
Staging his shoeshine stand on the sidelines of jet setters’ daily paths, Gelir waits for customers as he has for nearly seven decades. Wearing his colorful but worn out work uniform, which is the same as his daily outfit except for his blue armbands, he takes out his polish and black brush and puts them neatly next to his stand. While settled amid the city’s loud voices, honking cars in standstill traffic and the sound of businesswomen’s clacking heels, Gelir greets a few passersby throughout the day.
Gelir sits in front of the mosque and looks around with smiling eyes, no matter what he faces during the day. He was not born in Istanbul, but he is one of the few people who can recall the neighborhood when there were not more than 10 cars driving the streets and there were still some green fields left.
Gelir is a true braveheart. After his father died, he decided to move to Istanbul from Konya. Although his mother cried for him not to leave her with his seven siblings, he bought a ticket to the most talked-about city anyway. The bus ticket was 25 kuruş back then, and he was only 7 years old, hitting the road to begin a new life by himself in Istanbul.
Gelir knew there were many people from Konya who settled in Istanbul long before he arrived in the city, and he said that partly encouraged him. But he faced his life’s first disappointment when he met his kinsmen in Istanbul, as no one was willing to lend him a hand because they were struggling to stay alive in the big city.
"I was walking around, and I thought I should buy a shoeshine stand to start working to fill my stomach," he said. Gelir bought his first stand in Eminönü, walked all the way to Nişantaşı and placed his shoeshine stand there.
"I was there, and then I moved 5 meters left, and here is my last spot. That’s how much I moved in 66 years," Gelir said.
Pointing to a consulate building and chain restaurant Saray Muhallebicisi, Gelir said, it is impossible to earn money in a rich man’s world. "They did not let me open my shoeshine stand in front of their businesses. That’s why I came here," he said, sighing. "Nişantaşı has changed so much, and it’s not only the looks of the neighborhood. It’s also the people that have changed in time."
Gelir remembers the past, and it is obvious that he misses it. Back then, he was supported by the people living in the area. Even if they did not need their shoes shined, they offered him food, water and, most of the time, tea. "Today they do not even offer a glass of water," he said.
When he was a kid, he worked everyday, no matter if it was raining or snowing in Istanbul, but he was offered a place inside the apartments to stay dry and to avoid getting sick. Comparing the genuine Istanbul people of the past with today’s complex population, Gelir said they don’t let him get close to the entrances of the apartments today.
Although time has changed everything, he has still continued to do the same job on the exact same street for more than half a century. "When I first started working, there weren’t many buildings on Teşvikiye Avenue. The owners of the land, the people who were born here in Nişantaşı, died here Ğ most of them are now beneath the earth," he said, adding that he could not remember how many governments had come and gone.
The only concrete things he has in his life, besides the dingy and simple shoeshine stand, are his apartment in Okmeydanı, which he bought with the savings he gathered over 70 years, his wife, whom he met in Konya, and his six children, who, with the exception of one, did not go to school, just like him. "One of them is a sergeant major in Kahramanmaraş," he said proudly.
Gelir has a young head on old shoulders. Even though he wishes he could be young again, he would never consider doing another job. "Besides what could I do? I can’t even read and write properly," he said.
Over time Gelir has faced other disappointments in Istanbul. One time, after Gelir greeted a rich man, the man scolded him saying, "Is it your business to say hello to me?" Since then, Gelir says he barely says hello to rich people with clean-cut suits passing by.
"The big fish eat the small fish; this is the tenet of the world. The financial crises that have hit the world can be felt in rich neighborhoods as well. Actually, according to the poor, the rich complain more than they do," he said. "I was happy with what I earned in the past but today, especially this year, there are days I don’t even earn a kuruş," he said. Gelir began talking about his competitors that popped up in his area a few years ago, which he said makes it harder for him to earn money. A flower vendor woman broke into the conversation saying, "I couldn’t even make the first sale of the day. And he has been here for nearly all his life. We never ask for too much, we only want to have a healthy life, but that is also impossible in these conditions."
The woman, Sevim Portakal, said she considers Gelir her big brother. Portakal sells a few different flowers next to Gelir and is someone for him to talk to during the day. They often chat and commiserate.
The shoe shiner, who says he has no memories other than work, stands like a historic statue that was saved from the past. After recalling the good old days, he starts looking for shoes to shine.