Understanding Is The Solution (eBook)

Introduction

My name is Cengiz Dana, I was born on 29th November 1952 in Tepebasi, Istanbul. When my sister, Oya, was born fifteen months before me. Years later I learned that I wasn't the first child. It was surprising for my father to hear the news, and I was told that he dropped the phone because he had been anticipating the arrival of a son. When I came into this world, my father faced a different predicament - I was so big that my mother couldn't deliver me naturally, and the doctors informed my father that a cesarean section was not possible. He had to choose between my mother and me. It was clear that he had underestimated my determination, as despite the numerous challenges, I made the decision to ensure my mother's survival. After enduring several hours of labor, she successfully delivered me, a healthy and robust son weighing 5.6kg. Four years later, with a lot less drama, my younger brother Emin was born and our family was complete.

Tepebasi, where I lived until I was 11 years old was an eclectic mix of cultures and ideas. It was a blend of old and new where various religions existed side by side. Everyone was living their own life and was respectful to each other. As far as we were aware at that time, there was no racial or religious discrimination. If it existed, I wasn’t aware. Nevertheless, at the age of eleven, our family relocated to Merter, a different neighborhood. In this new environment, our neighbors held greater influence and were more conservative. As children, we were not particularly aware of these differences, but our mother underwent a significant transformation. She began wearing a veil and fully embraced the practices of Islam.

I finished secondary school at the age of sixteen but my father wanted me to continue my studies. Turkey, at that time, was a political mess. Students from the left and students from the right of politics were killing each other in university. Despite my father’s protestations, I refused to continue studying. He wanted me to get a good education because he hadn’t, but two of my uncles had. One was my mother’s brother, Giyasettin Karaca, who spent 24 years in Ankara, the political capital of Turkey. He was in a group of representatives from different cities in Turkey who represented the interests of the people there, serving for 8 years as the Minister of Internal Affairs in Demirel’s Democratic Party. Although he became well-known and prominent in national politics later, at that time, he was serving as the Deputy Mayor of Erzurum, a large city where my mother originated. Her father, Apdurrahman Karaca, had been the mayor. Another of her brothers, my uncle Sevket, had done very well at school and was now the manager of a local bank. Both earned good salaries and this was what my father hoped for me to eventually achieve.

My paternal grandfather passed away two months prior to my father's birth. He was fighting in the First World War and was in Ataturk’s personal group of fighters when he was killed in action. From the moment that happened, my father’s family came under the personal care of Ataturk. My father’s older brother was taken to work in the Dolmabahce Palace, which is also known as the White Palace. A few years later, when he was about 12 or 13, my father went to work with his brother and started working in the kitchens within the Palace where Ataturk lived. During that time, he got to know Ataturk very well. The great man would enjoy drinking Raki every night and often would find himself in the kitchens with my father late in the evening. He would always come to eat food after his working day and that was when my father got to know him as a man, rather than as the great leader that he was. During this time, my father learned from Ataturk how to prepare lamb meat with beans the way he loved it. My father learned so well that whenever Ataturk wanted to enjoy his favorite meal, it was always my father who would prepare it for him. My father had many pictures of Ataturk in his gardens, some of them with important dignitaries, taken during this period. In 1938, when Ataturk passed away (from cirrhosis of the liver, caused by all the raki he loved so much) my father was in his early thirties and already an accomplished chef. Because he was no longer needed in the Palace, he was sent to work with a man I only know as Ilyas but who was the most famous chef in Turkey at that time. When the Istanbul Hilton opened in 1955, I was just a baby and my father was selected as one of the three chefs by Conrad Hilton. My father became such a well-known chef that he was selected to represent Turkey several times in what was then, the world’s most prestigious culinary competition, the Zurich Escoffier Grand Prix. By this time, my father was also earning a similar income to his brothers-in-law, the government minister, and the banker.

So, my father, without a university education but with training from a great chef, as well as a philosophy created by spending so much time with great men, was doing very well. I thought I might be able to do the same and didn’t need a university education to do it.

My mother’s youngest brother, Cevdet Karaca was a man I admired very much. Like my father he didn’t study but he was extremely interested and active in fashion. He had built a business on Beyoglu Mesrutuyet Caddesi, the fashion center of Istanbul. It was a factory called Karaca Konfeksiyon. The factory specialized in designing, drawing, and producing some of the country’s top fashion shops at the time. He worked with all the major fashion brands such as Nail Yurdukal, Faize & Sedim. These names, some of which are long forgotten, were the icons of the time and I was keen to become involved in such a wonderful trade. My father though, had different ideas. Through his many contacts in Turkey’s elite society, he found me a job in the MAN truck factory. Because of his and therefore my relationship with Mr. Semih, the owner, they treated me like a VIP, introducing me to all the managers in many different offices but finally took me to the gearbox repair section in the building to the left of the entrance of the big factory. They told me I would start here and learn everything. My father had planned for me to go there, learn a trade, and become something I didn’t want to be. I went, but resigned after only 15 days, earning the wrath of my father but the support of my uncle, who offered me a place in his factory. To this day, I have never regretted that decision.

Life wasn’t as easy as I had hoped. I needed to prove myself to my uncle and my workmates, and I certainly didn’t get an easy ride. Firstly, with my uncle, I learned stitching. What my uncle didn’t know was that I was going back to the factory after hours and learning to sew on the machines. I studied drawing, and pattern design, I learned how to iron and sew. I needed to learn cutting and finishing and understand the manufacturing processes as well as quality control. Within two years, I had covered it all.

After I left working with my uncle, he introduced me to Hakan and Evin, both famous shops on the most popular shopping street and I spent some time working in both of them. On seeing that I had learned so much and become so accomplished in the industry, I found that I had earned my father’s trust. My father, who as we know was very well connected, and had started to believe I had some promise in the industry, then introduced me to Vitali Hakko. I went to work in Vakko. To say that Vakko was a shop would be an understatement. The name Vakko and fashion in Turkey were synonymous. It was the largest department store in Turkey with seven floors of fashion. Although there was only one shop in Istanbul, it has since become one of the largest Turkish fashion retailers with many outlets throughout Turkey and some in other countries too. Getting this job was a lot more complicated than it seemed. I needed an introduction to Viatali Hakko, the owner. He interviewed all the staff in his head office, which is in a factory, and they not only needed to come from a good family, but they also needed an excellent work ethic and a solid reputation to get a job. My interview lasted more than half an hour and I was offered a job. I hope it was because of who I am, not because my father catered for all the major weddings and parties and knew Mr. Hakko personally, nor because my father recommended me. By the time I was 19 years old, I was enjoying being a part of the fashion industry in Turkey and, from selling men’s clothes on the fourth floor of Vakko, I moved to be in charge of six fashion salespeople, I was learning a lot.

At this time, I also came to know the film producer, Hideyat Pelit, a particularly good friend of my uncle Cevdet. Hideyat was known as being one of Turkey’s best filmmakers. My uncle and Hideyat had served in the military together and then Hideyat traveled to the US after their service. His 1971 movie Kanli Define, had a real Turkish movie star, Ahmet Mekin, in the lead role but I was also in the movie as a supporting actor. Acting wasn’t a full-time job for me but I was good at it and was invited to play a part in the movie Pelit Films would make once Kanli Define wrapped up. I can’t remember the name of the movie; it was something to do with “The Streets of Istanbul” or something like that but I don’t remember because after the work on the movie started, about two weeks into filming I left the set, Pelit didn’t want to pay me so I walked out and that was the end of my acting career.

All boys in Turkey needed to sign up for military service and being free from the film set allowed me to do that. That also didn’t last long.

In 1973, as a young man, I took a break. I was incredibly lucky. My national service...