BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
Fehmi Koru
Today’s Zaman
March 13 2008
Turkey
His silhouette is black and white in my mind from the Turkish movies
he appeared in back in the 1960s. He was handsome, extremely handsome,
a la early Marlon Brando. Something, nevertheless, was missing —
when the time in the movie came to get the girl, the girl always
chose somebody else, even though the chosen one was not as handsome
as he was.
I always wondered why Kenan Pars as an actor was destined to suffer
in love affairs, despite the fact that he was likable and charming
by Turkish cinema standards. I cannot remember when I found out the
truth, but I know for sure that my personal enlightenment came rather
late. Although he went by the name of Kenan Pars, his original name
was Kirkor Cezveciyan, and he was of Armenian descent. He assumed a
Turkish sounding name to get a place in Turkish cinema and was able
to play different roles throughout his long career. He also directed
six movies and played in some TV serials until his demise last week
at the age of 88.
I am sure his friends in the movie business knew his ethnic background
and didn’t mind. Turkish cinema has a history of tolerance for
non-Turkish and non-Muslim players. Pars was not alone in his
generation of Armenian-Turkish artists; there were many like him in
the entertainment business. Some, like Pars and Sami Hazinses, changed
their names to Turkish sounding ones, and others like Nubar Terziyan
retained their original names. In the Turkish Internet encyclopedia
(tr-wikipedia) in a section titled "Famous Armenian-Turkish citizens"
it relates the names of some well-known Turkish actors and actresses
of Armenian descent; there are some with Turkish names, and even today
a great majority of Turks don’t know that they were of Armenian origin.
In my own childhood I had the experience of studying with non-Turkish
minorities. I was born in Izmir, the most cosmopolitan city in Turkey
on the Aegean coast, and lived in a neighborhood with a variety of
ethnicities. My classmates included at least four Jews. I remember
them as very industrious, not only in school but also after school,
when they went to help at their fathers’ businesses.
Then the non-Muslim and non-Turkish minorities in my neighborhood
suddenly disappeared.
He was not Pars in my mind’s eye; he was always a character in Turkish
movies, playing in as many as 218 films since 1952 in which he tried to
attract the attention of the most beautiful girl and always suffered
in the end. I cannot remember an instant that Pars won the heart of
any lead actress; she was never his. He always had to play second
fiddle and suffer heartbreak.
In his later years, Pars showed some interest in the Islamic art
of calligraphy.
It is not easy to be a member of a minority group in an overwhelmingly
homogenous country. Turkish-Armenians, after all the heartbreaking
experiences of the early 1900s, have remained among us, participating
in Turkish society with their own skills and expertise.
Many of the families of Armenian descent have been living in Anatolia
as long as the Turks, or even longer, and because of their minority
status in a largely Muslim society, have suffered socially. At the
same time, since they don’t raise their voices of discontent to the
satisfaction of diaspora Armenians, they also take some blame from
their ethnic brethren.
The Armenians and other religious minorities came to the fore of
Turkey’s attention very recently, when some religious organizations
held fast-breaking activities and invited religious representatives of
ethnic minorities. That brought about more understanding of non-Muslims
living among us in the minds of religiously inclined people.
My heart rejoices to see some activities that do the reverse; Muslims
joining Christians’ Easter celebrations, for example.
In an interview conducted a year ago, Pars related a story from his
days in the army. He suffered there, too, in his younger days. He was
given a shovel instead of a weapon and was sent with other minority
soldiers to work in road construction. He was given a reprieve later
on when he became aide-de-camp to his commander. One of the most vivid
memories of his army days was an Easter breakfast. His commander’s wife
prepared a full-fledged Easter table, including red eggs. He noted in
the interview that he changed then and there and became more hopeful
as an Armenian living in a society in which Turks were the majority.
Turkish society, too — though perhaps rather late — is changing.
Pars died an Armenian Christian and was buried in an Armenian cemetery
after a ceremony held at a church. But the highest ranking Islamic
authority of his district in Istanbul called on his neighbors to
pray for his soul in the Islamic tradition. The mufti of Bakýrkoy,
Ýzzettin Konuk, is determined to send up his prayers for Pars, saying
that Pars’ burial in an Armenian Christian cemetery shouldn’t prevent
Muslims who knew him from doing so.
Pars’ face, smart and handsome to the end, must be displaying a
satisfied smile that his determination to remain where he was born
and entertain the people who were his neighbors and countrymen was
not in vain.
–Boundary_(ID_3pElyI444x9HdGMQSNJ2fA)–