Divorce Turkish Style by Esmahan Aykol Page A

died of cancer caused by pollution from his factory would mourn him? Would anyone regard it as tragic if a factory that had been pumping poisonous water underground went up in smoke? The people have had enough. Of course such actions would have an impact.”
    â€œYes, of course,” I said, pressing my fingers to my temples in an attempt to avert a crushing migraine.
    â€œThrace could be economically self-sufficient without all these industries. It has the Maritsa, Tunca and Ergene rivers, floodplains and basins. A new natural gas field is discovered almost every day. The university’s good. Everything would be rosy without the environmental problem and ever-increasing migration. Standards in Thrace are much like those in central Europe. It’s the only region in Turkey to have developed sufficiently for EU membership, a fact that’s much exploited.”
    â€œAre you trying to persuade me to accept the idea of a Thrace Republic?”
    â€œNo, I’m not. I’m pointing out the arguments being used to win over people living in Thrace.”
    â€œBack at the shop, you said that the life of someone you care about is in danger.”
    â€œI suspect that a former boyfriend of mine is mixed up in all this.”
    â€œAnd you still think the TLF might have killed Sani?”
    â€œI don’t know how they make their decisions, and I don’t know what role my ex has in the organization. He may know nothing about this.”
    â€œI expect you realize,” I said, “that there are weaknesses in both my theory about the industrialists and your TLF theory.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œWhy would Sani have let them into her home? The police said the door wasn’t forced. So if Sani was murdered, she must have opened the door to the murderer. In other words, she knew the person well enough to let him or her in.” I paused for a moment before adding, “Living in Istanbul makes you lose your trust in people, doesn’t it? You never open the door to anyone.”
    â€œLet’s say you become more cautious. It’s a big city, and you have to be on guard all the time,” said Naz, turning to gaze out of the window.
    In the autumn sunshine, I noticed lines around her eyes and on her forehead that I hadn’t seen before. Her face suddenly looked full of sorrow, etched with life’s struggles, gains, losses, missed opportunities and dreams.
    â€œI’m losing my faith,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. “Each day since my sister’s death, I find I’ve lost it a bit more. I don’t believe in myself, my ability to cure patients, to save Ergene, to be happy… I no longer believe in anything. For the first time in my life, I feel completely spent.”
    â€œWhy now? Yesterday you were fine and seemed to be coping with your grief.”
    â€œReally? I don’t think so,” said Naz. “I suppose everyone mourns differently. It’s as if I’ve been drained of all emotion and I’m left completely empty. And it’s worse when I see the state my parents are in. What’s going to happen now? What on earth can happen after this?”
    â€œWe’ll make a plan,” I said, knowing that this was probably not what she meant, but I’d learned from Fofo that scenes of high emotion were best kept short. “You’re going to go to the forensic pathologist, and I’ll talk to the police officer in charge of the investigation this evening and fınd out what they know. How about that?”
    â€œGood,” said Naz.
    â€œWould you like some green tea? Or something else?”
    â€œIt’s still early, isn’t it?” replied Naz, looking at her watch.
    â€œYes it is, so let’s go and eat. It’d do you good to get out for a bit.”
    â€œCan we go a bit later?”
    â€œOf course. We’ll go whenever you like,” I said, opening the window to fill the