Turkish Immigrant Journal

Turkish Immigration Journal

Entry 1: February 3, 1897

Dear Journal,

My family has left Turkey today, except we lost my father. We tried to search for him, but the area was dangerous, so we left. I truly hope we find him soon, for my little sister misses him. She told me a while ago that she misses the way he kisses her forehead when she is scared, which she is now. He is not here to comfort her the way he did.

Our ma is doing the best she can to get us on this ship to America. I have heard it was a wonderful place, filled with wonderful people. There were not any fights or wars, because it was very calm and peaceful. Please, please let us all be able to go, with Pa in spirit.

My family is very beautiful, filled with kind people. My ma, Arzu, was always cooking delicious food for people who had none. My pa, Adem, helped fixed kind people’s tools, and sometimes invited them over for dinner. I am Asuman, the eldest, and I like to help sick people. My ma taught me when I was very young how to bandage and treat people. My little sister, Berna, is just a happy child, filling everyone’s lives with joy. She brings light to us, filling the empty voids in our hearts.

Now, this war was started by Greece, not Turkey. These Greek boats would not leave our country alone, although we said we would give them a bill of freedom for them to leave. Sadly, they stayed, and we… Oh. Turkey started this war. I guess our army attacked them, resulting in people having to leave to America to be safe.

I really hope the trip is safe and we can make it into America. What else would we do if we could not get in?

Entry 2: February 5, 1897

Dear Journal,

We are alive! Oh my, we made it onto the boat with no hassle. One thing is wrong, though. Pa’s still missing. I have the feeling we won’t be seeing him again. I hope he did not die.

When Berna found out that Pa wouldn’t be joining us, she cried so much we could not calm her down. I do not like seeing her sad, and Ma agrees. We found a little doll for Berna to play with, with the help of the boat captain. Thank you Captain.

This boat is not very enjoyable. It stinks and smells of rotten fish. Could someone wash it down? If all of the girls and women got together to clean it, the boat would smell good and not look dirty. 

I must be going to sleep. It has been ages since I have gotten a deep sleep like my sister and Ma. Maybe I will dream of Pa, and how he used to tell us stories before bed.

I am back. This boat woke me up, with people all around us screaming and holding onto the railings for dear life. What has happened? Is everyone okay, or are we being taken captive?

It just stopped, but it stopped so hard that people flew forwards, hitting their heads on the wooden floorboards. Does the ship crew not care about us much? At least Berna won’t get sea-sick anymore, and the rocking of the ship has stopped.

I think we are all supposed to sleep now. Maybe we can go to America tomorrow. I believe we will.

Entry 3: February 6,1897

Dear Journal,

They woke us up too early, just to get in line so we can become citizens of America on Ellis Island, as it is called. I am very tired, and this line looks very long. At least I have the entertainment of my sister, so I have something to watch in line. Sadly, the building isn’t finished, so it is currently raining on us.

It is very hard to write in this journal while standing up. I wish there was a table somewhere. Oh look, four more people in line. Then Berna can go first, then me, then Ma.

My sister got through quickly! They did not even need to change her name. They just needed to write down a few things about her. Now it is my turn to go through.

I cannot believe what they did. They changed my name. It was too hard to spell, so they say, and they changed it to Beste, which means melody in my language. At least they chose something well.

My sister and I are nervous. It is taking forever for Ma to get back. Berna and I are moved away from the building. Ten minutes later, and no sign of Ma. I tried to talk to someone, but they pushed me away, saying I will not see her anymore.

It’s been half an hour. I guess we’ll leave and have to look for a home now.

Berna won’t stop crying. I feel like crying, too.

Entry 4: February 8, 1897

Dear Journal,

Two days ago we managed to find a small shelter. Without Ma or Pa, we can not afford a home ourselves. No one will even let us live with them. At least Berna is safe.

These people are not what I expected. They are rude, nasty, and only a few are nice. I cannot believe the lies we were told. At least the children do not understand their parents yet, as they are kind to us and like to play with my sister once in a while.

I have managed to find a few coins on the ground, and my sister has too. We are starving, only being able to get a piece of bread and some cheese everyday.  No one wants to help us, or plans to.

Everything will get better Berna, I promise.

Entry 5: February 15, 1897

Dear Journal,

Someone took us in. I am extremely grateful for this miracle. The daughter Micaya, of Sryana, the woman who took us in, is Berna’s age, so Berna has someone to play with. I am content on my own, for now, but I have a job and I earn 30 cents per two hours.

Berna and I are not starved anymore. We eat a small breakfast, a good lunch, and a large dinner everyday. I still cannot believe these people were kind enough to take us in. We sleep in little beds in the living room near the fireplace, and it is very warm.

America is not as bad as I thought it was. Those people were only rude to us because they were the rich who believed we shouldn’t be allowed here. I am glad Sryana is not like that.

I wonder how my country is doing. Hopefully the damage is not too bad and we can return home soon. I just wish this never happened.

Since all of this, Berna cries herself to sleep every night in my arms. I get so sad hearing her cry out for Ma and Pa. She does not deserve this, but this is what happened and so we have to be strong through this.

I have figured that my father has moved on and into the spirit world. He lived a good life, yes, and I love him dearly still.

My mother is doing fine. I can feel it. I can feel her worrying about us, worrying about how we are doing here in America. I worry about her, too. Hopefully she can feel it, also.

We are doing fine, and we will remain that way until I have to leave Berna on her own.

We will survive this.