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Ataturk and Castaniyet Moroccan

ATATÜRK's table was a meeting where all national issues were discussed. These intellectual works, which lasted until the first hours of the morning, were sometimes replaced by saz, speech and entertainment hours. It was such a rest day at Dolmabahçe Palace. The most elected hanende and sazendes of the country are in the parliament. Selected pieces loved by ATATÜRK and his table friends are played.

ATATURK for a while:

He says, "Now, let's listen even if there is a castanet player."

Sazendes look at each other, one of the people at the table:

- My Pasha says, one of my acquaintances is playing an extraordinary castan, if you order, we will have him brought.


- Who is this person? he asks.

- A friend of mine named Şerif Sürmeli, son of Asaf Pasha, one of the former and deceased governors.

- It's late, I must have bothered you.

- No, my pasha, he is a good person, he goes to bed late.

The address of the sheriff's house is given. A motorcyclist immediately sets off...

Sheriff Bey explained the rest of the event as follows:

I jumped out of bed with a loud ringing. There was a loud knock on the door. Refikam had also jumped out of bed. I looked at the clock, it was past midnight.

Refikam went downstairs and opened the door. A deep male voice was asking me. Curiously, I went down to the door, an official cop:

"Come with me," he said. Now they want you from the palace.

- What will they do?

- I don't know, that's what I ordered.

- Well, let me get dressed.

- They called in a hurry, we don't have time to wait a second.

- Let me come with my pajamas.

- Put on your dress.

I did as he said and settled on the mat of the bike. We flew away like the wind in the worried gaze of my refika.

I was shaking with excitement. When I entered the palace, Mr. X, one of our family friends, greeted me. Seeing me in my pajamas and miserable:

- What is this? He could not help himself from throwing a page of amazement. I told the incident. Laughing:

- There is nothing to be excited about, he said, I praised ATATÜRK for your castanets, come on, take your castanets.

The matter was settled, but my nerves were also relieved. When I returned to the palace, I still could not calm my excitement. To my friend:

- Oh, I said, raki. I cannot stand before ATA in this state of mind.

After rolling a few doubles from ATA's special raki, I entered the peace and was presented. They showed up in front of him.

The first part of the castanets did not satisfy me as I could not suppress my excitement completely. In its second part, the castanets sang like a nightingale between my fingers. I was jumping from tune to tune, trying to make the most magical sounds out of pieces of wood. ATA's interest increased from minute to minute, his expression of satisfaction filling my soul from his azure eyes.

When the song I was playing was finished, they praised me:

- Thank you, I'm glad.

One of his table friends, whose name I can't remember now, told ATATÜRK

“I found it stronger, superior to all the Istanbul artists I saw and listened to,” he said.

ATA's answer is in my ears, word for word:

- Being a Turk is enough to be superior...


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