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    My father had done nothing but agricultural work all his life. He was illiterate, as were my mother, my brothers, my sister and myself. We were lost in Tatvan. Our clothing, our language, our Kurdish cultural heritage made us foreigners here. My father had to invent odd jobs in order to assure our survival. He tried everything; the quarries, work as a porter, dock worker, woodcutter, construction work or hawker in the markets. Nothing regular, nothing to get us out from under poverty's heel.
My brothers and I were soon sent to work. I sold comics I'd drawn in front of cinemas, worked the docks with my father, and worked on construction sites. In the Tatvan station, I sold bread and bottled water to passengers.
Person did not speak Turkish In our family.
After five years of primary school, a waste of time in my father's opinion, I withdrew and started work as a carpenter's apprentice. Between the ages of 12 and 15 I dallied in delinquency. Everyone said I had the character
of a bandit.
I was repeatedly denounced to my boss and my father. It was said that I was a bad boy, with no upbringing and I was often the object of beatings carried out by my employer, my father and my brothers…
with my camarat of games
My two brothers (four and ten years my senior) were too old to start school and spent their time looking for all kinds of work. Even while in school, I worked for extra money for my family.

My brothers: Halis - Murat (Tatvan) 1968