A Trip by Truck from Belgium to Turkey. (Day 2)

Being always on roads… Interesting…

The biggest nightmare of truck drivers is traffic jam. This results in delays and arriving late at the resting truck stations. As a result of this, drivers always keep in touch and gives information to each other about the traffic of the roads. Long conversations happen on the phones and jokes are made and  funny stories are exchanged. There are strict rules on the roads of Germany. Çağdaş: Germans have regularity and rules. However, they don’t try to find mistakes in our trucks. In contrast, they try to ignore little mistakes. You can never bride a German police or other state workers. 

We’re at the resting station on the border of Czech Republic. The darkness of the night is approaching. Drivers look to be exhausted. We are supposed to spend the night here. Arabic and

Turkish are the most spoken and heard languages because the majority of the drivers are from Antakya. Other languages that we hear are Serbian, Hungarian, Slovak, Greek, Romanian, Czech and Bulgarian. We see typicalviews as we see at any truck driver’s resting station in Turkey; People who drink tea, people who makes video call with their families, people who fill water into their trucks and the ones who are just hanging around to ease the pain in their legs. Some of them take a nap or sleep in their trucks...

This place looks like a theatre stage. And on this stage, everyday a similiar play (life) is performed German Government has a customs office here. Drivers relax and eat here and they can do their paperwork at the same time.

We start to cook together. Like the other truck drivers, Cagdas opens the kitchen mounted on the side of the truck. We sit on the small chairs. We make salad and rice. We prepare the fruit and mezes (dishes to eat with Raki). During this time, some neighbors ask for salt, spice or pepper like we live

in a village. It’s like there is always solidarity and assistance here. In the middle of the dinner, the friends of Çağdaş show up with Raki and cheese. It’s like they come as guests into Cagdas` house. We open the bottle of handmade wine that my cousin (Zekai) gives me as a gift. And other cousin Selda’s Gannuc with garlic leaves a wonderful smell among the trucks… The dinner becomes so lovely that deep conversation surrounds everybody.. The neighbor truck driver, Serbian Stefan says; Hi and joins us. While stting on the chairs between the trucks, funny stroies, rumours and events are told. Of course, mostly are genereally erotic stories. Wwe were not the only people who are having a party. They are small groups among the trucks having dinner with their friends. One of the drivers, Ahmet says; "We try to be positive. If we don’t laugh, if we don’t make

jokes we couldn’t endure this job and we couldn’t survive this type of life". Cagdas; "In every station, we see someone familiar or friends. Because of this, this resting stations are really special for us". I leave friends and in the darkness of night, I walk around the camp. There is are many more groups

who eat, drink and chat behind the trucks. It’s likein the ancient times when people used to sit around the fire and perform rituals. I sit on a rock and I watch the harmony of people who come from different lands. However, this job makes drives have same similar behaviours and attitudes. There is a peacuful scenery in hard conditions.

I notice Ahmet’s (25 years, from Antakya) fancy truck. In front of the window, there are yellow flowers in the vase. His bed is hidden behind an inlaid curtain. He opens the curtain leegently ad I see the cute bookcase.  There is a variety of books from Kafka to Livaneli and Tolstoy. Seeing me

suprised, he starts to express himself; ‘’Books make me feel better when headache comes’’ and smiles with his beautiful, tired blue eyes and mourning beard. We start to listen to songs from Kardeş Türküler. He has home made food and drinks in his fridge and the truck cabin is decorated like a home. He says; "Don’t be shocked. My life passes here and it seems like it will continue like that. He looks at the ceiling thoughtfully and he feels sad; ‘’If I find a better job, I will quit the job but I don’t think I can

find’’. ‘’ Anyway, I got used to this life, anyway’’  Then, he shows the videos he takes while driving

on the on the in snow in Ukraine and Russia. The all difficulties we face are in winter. You are experiencing our  easy holiday times now. These are the best days of us.

When we come back to table dirty dishes are being washed. Çağdaş says to Ahmet; ‘’ You are going to finish my water up in the tank! Easy’’ Ahmet says; "Eri fi dappotek (Fuck your tank). We laugh out of our hearts. It’s time to sleep. The camp turns out to be tired quiet. With the shadow of people who

move slowly in front of us, my eyes are closing. I hardly hear Çağdaş saying; "Tisbah bi hayr" (Good night).

When I wake up and open my eyes I see Çağdaş washing the window. Then, he tidies his bed. When inside of the truck is clean and beautifil I feel like I have washed my baby.  I start to understand better why the truck is really important for Çağdaş and his friends. Preparing the breakfast starts… Ahmet is approaching to us while he is singing in Arabic as usual; ‘’Sebb il esmer cennen ni, yağyüni’’. He joins us with hot pita

bread and fried meat. We make the eggs with the delicious meat. The tea is already boiling. Our neigbors are earlier than us. We smell the tea. He invites people; ‘’Why dont you come and drink tea with us’’ in Kurdish. We say; "Afiye te" (good appetit) to him. The interesting thing is that there is no morning sleepy mood in Ahmet and Çağdaş. Jokes and erotic stroies continue nonstop. Of course,bosses and border issues are also being talked. They fulfill their needs by exchanging information and fun.  They also excahge food. Someone gives pepper and takes grapes, someone gives watermelosn and takes bread in return. 

After a while we depart. Aafter driving a short time little, we notice the small sign board on the side of the road saying; "Welcome to Czech Republic". Where is the border? There is no border. Funny. A funny idea crosses my mind. Capitalism achieve our dream of  countires without borders.

Translated from Trukish to English by Berdan Sönmez