One day we used to have fun making sentences with 4 different languages, usually German, Turkish, Italian and English. All the 4 languages had to be represented in the same sentence.
You had to make efforts in Italian, while my challenge was on German and Turkish. That's why one day I wrote on this blog: "Hayde, Ali, come zurück presto!". It was one year ago, one year and less than 3 weeks ago. You were kept in Cyprus for what was your (and our common) pleasure: a bit of marijuana. We were waiting for you to rehearse for a coming concert.
We have never been best friends, I want to tell it clearly. We happened to be neighbors, especially after september 2009. And you, as a good neighbor, provided me any help. Actually I went even further, I asked you contacts and suggestions, for my life and for work, and you simply gave me all that I needed. In exchange, I gave you some advice on how to menage with some disappointing situation and especially I prepared sometimes my best "italian pasta" I can cook.
Normal relations we can say. I will never forget a few unforgettable nights on the terrace of your building above the roofs around the Galata tower. A lot of good guests, food, bier or wine, lots of funny stories and music, lots of musicians, good musicians, as always, at your place. I remember one night you asked all those who were there to sing a song. I sang a neapolitan song.
I have a regret. We always were talking about music and cinema. I promised you one day to give you the dvd of "When we were kings", a documentary by Leon Gast on the match of the century between Mohammed Ali and George Foreman in Kinshasa. You told me that your father gave you the name of Ali after that match. A common friend who took that dvd, never gave me back, and as often these things happen, I had to uphold my promise.
But you also upheld a promise to me and this is my second regret. I waited and waited for you to come in the studio and record the bağlama for my song. Yesterday we were in the studio to record another bağlama, because after months I could not wait further. While we were in the studio our friend who had to record instead of you welcomed me saying that your liberation came. I thought that this was your way to say goodbye to me. Like you were there to tell me: "sorry man, I could not come this time, but you have here a worthy substitute". And I thank you also for this last kindness you had for me. I have to say that it follows perfectly what was always your style, your elegance.
That's why many people were infatuated by you, not only for your kindness, for your sense of brotherhood, for your cleverness but also for your charm.
Actually I have a third regret. One day at your place you told me: "hey, you know what happened with the soap-opera I was working with?", in fact you started for a while also the career of actor, and I can easily understand why, as you are a handsome guy! And I: "no, what happened?". "well, they heard that I have a cancer, so they decided to leave me at home. They said it's too risky for the production..". "Fucking bastards!!", I said. I think sometimes your cancer became more important than you at the people's eyes. Sometimes it turned people away, sometimes it turned people close to you. Even today, I see people who want to put their hat on you, to make you a hero of their cause. I find it such an inelegant thing and so far distant from your spirit. My regret is that there was no need at all!
You had to make efforts in Italian, while my challenge was on German and Turkish. That's why one day I wrote on this blog: "Hayde, Ali, come zurück presto!". It was one year ago, one year and less than 3 weeks ago. You were kept in Cyprus for what was your (and our common) pleasure: a bit of marijuana. We were waiting for you to rehearse for a coming concert.
We have never been best friends, I want to tell it clearly. We happened to be neighbors, especially after september 2009. And you, as a good neighbor, provided me any help. Actually I went even further, I asked you contacts and suggestions, for my life and for work, and you simply gave me all that I needed. In exchange, I gave you some advice on how to menage with some disappointing situation and especially I prepared sometimes my best "italian pasta" I can cook.
Normal relations we can say. I will never forget a few unforgettable nights on the terrace of your building above the roofs around the Galata tower. A lot of good guests, food, bier or wine, lots of funny stories and music, lots of musicians, good musicians, as always, at your place. I remember one night you asked all those who were there to sing a song. I sang a neapolitan song.
I have a regret. We always were talking about music and cinema. I promised you one day to give you the dvd of "When we were kings", a documentary by Leon Gast on the match of the century between Mohammed Ali and George Foreman in Kinshasa. You told me that your father gave you the name of Ali after that match. A common friend who took that dvd, never gave me back, and as often these things happen, I had to uphold my promise.
But you also upheld a promise to me and this is my second regret. I waited and waited for you to come in the studio and record the bağlama for my song. Yesterday we were in the studio to record another bağlama, because after months I could not wait further. While we were in the studio our friend who had to record instead of you welcomed me saying that your liberation came. I thought that this was your way to say goodbye to me. Like you were there to tell me: "sorry man, I could not come this time, but you have here a worthy substitute". And I thank you also for this last kindness you had for me. I have to say that it follows perfectly what was always your style, your elegance.
That's why many people were infatuated by you, not only for your kindness, for your sense of brotherhood, for your cleverness but also for your charm.
Actually I have a third regret. One day at your place you told me: "hey, you know what happened with the soap-opera I was working with?", in fact you started for a while also the career of actor, and I can easily understand why, as you are a handsome guy! And I: "no, what happened?". "well, they heard that I have a cancer, so they decided to leave me at home. They said it's too risky for the production..". "Fucking bastards!!", I said. I think sometimes your cancer became more important than you at the people's eyes. Sometimes it turned people away, sometimes it turned people close to you. Even today, I see people who want to put their hat on you, to make you a hero of their cause. I find it such an inelegant thing and so far distant from your spirit. My regret is that there was no need at all!
I think that the better way to remember you today is remembering you with your "Sambistanbul" (WATCH HERE A VIDEO), that was the only thing I have never seen anything else make you happy in the same way.
But I know, you will not care of these regrets of mine. Things happen, let them happen. I know the only regret you have today is not to have the chance to see your little child and stay beside your beloved girl the day he will be born. But anyway, he will say one day that he can be proud of his father. Hayde, Ali..
But I know, you will not care of these regrets of mine. Things happen, let them happen. I know the only regret you have today is not to have the chance to see your little child and stay beside your beloved girl the day he will be born. But anyway, he will say one day that he can be proud of his father. Hayde, Ali..
These photos above were taken around 1 year ago during a session of rehearsal. In the first one Ali is in backlight with his bağlama on the window in front of the Galata tower. In the second photo the 2 handles of my contrabass and Ali's bağlama.
