Snow and Sweat / Ruhan Odabaş

2010.02.23
Laşet

It all began with Sabahattin Ali…

It all began when Selim Güneş, who lives in Istanbul, whom I know as a fine photographic artist as well as an engineer, and who is also a close relative of mine, phoned me one day and said, “I’m turning Sabahattin Ali’s story ‘Ayran’ into a screenplay. I’m thinking of making a film. If I came to İzmit one day, could we have a chat?” He came, we sat in the garden of Ziganalı, and as we went over the script once more, the conversation turned to my theatre work in my student years.

Then came Selim’s suggestion: “You’re going to play Grandpa Kadir!” While I was still wondering whether it would work or not, I found myself inside “White as Snow”.

Now you’ll ask, “What is White as Snow?” You’re right. “White as Snow” is the film Selim Güneş adapted from Sabahattin Ali’s story “Ayran” and shot…

So where was the film going to be shot? Selim had worked that out too and had Artvin in mind. And by Artvin I mean that filming would begin in a heavenly corner of Şavşat, in the area of İmerhev, that is Meydancık, now known as Maden Village but whose old and real name is Bazgiret.

Only the location?

The location was of course not the only problem. The cast mattered too. Above all, by taking on such a film, Selim Güneş had also taken on a social responsibility.

He thought big and gave the film’s weightiest role to Hakan Korkmaz from his own village, who had no experience at all in this field. Hakan was still an 8th-grade pupil at primary school and truly had no experience whatsoever…

Selim went ahead of us. He held meetings in Artvin and Şavşat and scouted locations. Later we boarded a plane from Istanbul Atatürk Airport to Batumi. After a short journey we reached Batumi, from there Sarp and Hopa, and from there Artvin and Şavşat, or rather İmerhev.

One of the biggest problems in those parts is accommodation. Sadly, not enough people go to visit those beautiful places. So, it seems, the locals don’t undertake such ventures. That must be why we stayed in the dormitory of İmerhev Multi-Program High School…

Off to Bazgiret

We spent two evenings in İmerhev. Part of the filming was to be done there, and so it was. On the third day we set off for Bazgiret, Maden village by its new name.

It wasn’t bad up to a point. We drove along a worn-out asphalt road. Then we turned onto a dirt road. Little by little we got covered in mud and then snow, until we left the cars at the foot of the mill in Bazgiret, because it was impossible to go any higher. The whole village was under snow, pure white.

The villagers gave us an extremely warm welcome. As soon as we arrived we saw the heartfelt care of the people of Bazgiret, whose authentic way of life is completely unspoiled. They carried our belongings, which we had loaded onto ox-drawn sledges below the village, to the houses where we would stay. They put us up in sound houses made entirely of wood, in spotless beds and quilts, and fed us breakfasts and meals of the most natural foods. I don’t think we would be exaggerating if we said that during the time we spent in and around the village, at an altitude of about 1800 metres, all the blood in our bodies was changed and renewed…

As I said, Bazgiret’s new name is apparently “Maden”. I asked the locals why it was “Maden”. Lead ore was once mined in the area just across the small river that runs past the village, they said. That is where the name comes from. I suppose they closed the pits because they no longer yielded enough.

So how do the villagers make a living? That question comes to mind, doesn’t it?

They keep livestock on a small scale. They get their eggs from their own hens, their milk and cheese from their own cows. Vegetables such as cabbage and beans, and fruits such as apples and pears, also come from their own gardens. Is it enough? As far as I could tell, they also raise animals for the Feast of Sacrifice, because I heard the same thing from almost everyone I met. They raise cattle bought young, then take them to market and sell them as sacrificial animals. That is perhaps their most important source of income.

Filming begins

We start filming in Bazgiret the very next morning. Up at 04.00, a good breakfast, and filming from around 05.00. Snow or cold, there’s no stopping. Because the film has to be finished on schedule. And that scheduled date is 7 March 2010.

The film is called “White as Snow”, after all, and Bazgiret is white all over. In that sense we have no trouble. Some mornings we don’t need to get up early. Whichever of our friends has a scene that day is the one who gets up early. But for Selim Güneş there is no such thing. As the director, Selim has to get up early every single morning. Which of course is quite exhausting for him.

The whole crew takes care to do not only all they can, but even more than they can. As for the extras from the village who have joined us, their performance has left us all amazed. They are like seasoned stage or screen actors.

You could say everything is going well. We have our little troubles too, but as the saying goes, even the judge’s daughter has a flaw or two.

We finish our filming in Bazgiret and set off back. The route is once again Meydancık, once again the Multi-Program High School. But we have grown very attached to the villagers. Leaving is quite hard; there are emotional moments on both sides.

The inevitable end: we say our goodbyes and leave Bazgiret. We leave, but with a poem that sums up our work and us…

THE BEAUTIFUL-EYED CHILD OF BAZGIRET

Snow and sweat,
but everywhere.
Close behind, poverty
bursts in after betrayal.

A mother, the pillar of his home,
a child, yet still a child;
god, perhaps
merciless,
onto his tiny shoulders
loads a dirty world.

The familiar calls of the wild fowl
carry the scent of pine resin, from nights into mornings.
When the stars are
closest to the earth
he waits, faintly, for spring;
on the verge of falling in love.

The name of hope
he has written above the black hearth, at such a young age
he has written it to labour, proudly.
Into the clear part of a jug of ayran
he has let his voice fall, that
comes from Gamaşet, from Daba,
from Deviyet, from Zeliyet
and goes on to the future.

He lives through black winters,
sees things white as snow, a friend to sorrows.
He hears laments from those he least expects,
in life’s least expected corner.
Like the edge of night turning to morning,
day bursts suddenly,
asking the way to the light in the kiss of a dove.

The beautiful-eyed child of Bazgiret
catches his breath,
smiles,
builds a new world in his dream…

We leave Bazgiret with fond memories. We get into our vehicle below the water mill where we shot some of the scenes and set off again for Meydancık. The road is not as snowy or muddy as when we came, thanks to the grader that came and did a quick clearing while we were up there.

We had left most of our belongings in the dormitory of Meydancık Multi-Program High School, and our biggest problem was not being able to take a shower. We wanted to get to Şavşat as quickly as possible, check into a hotel and come back to ourselves with a warm bath.

On the day we came down from Bazgiret, we shot important scenes in Meydancık. All that remained now was our filming in Şavşat. We are guests in the high school dormitory for one more night, and then we head for Şavşat.

At Laşet

Artvin as a whole is perhaps lacking in this respect. That is, there aren’t many options for accommodation. Şavşat is naturally even harder. And yet there is magnificent nature in those parts and incredible tourism potential. The lack of sufficient promotion is of course an important factor.

Selim, and especially his wife Nur, work very hard to make the crew comfortable. They are busy finding a place as quickly as they can so that we can rest. The winter season makes this harder, of course. After asking around, a place is found at last: Laşet.

You leave Şavşat heading towards Ardahan. You pass Mamanelis, you pass the Kuçen turn-off, and before you start climbing up to Sahara, you see Laşet down by the stream. That is, a few kilometres from Şavşat.

Laşet is a mostly wooden building set on the rise of a gentle slope. The ground floor is a restaurant, the upper floor a motel. There aren’t many rooms and beds in the motel part, but Laşet also has bungalows.

As the “White as Snow” team, the cast and the rest of our friends came to more than 30 people. So the beds in Laşet’s restaurant building weren’t enough for us. Some friends and I stayed the whole time in Laşet’s bungalows in Kuçen (Kocabey). That place is a few kilometres below Laşet, in the village of Kocabey. There are 10 bungalows, each sleeping three or four people. They are wooden throughout, with showers and hot water, and no heating problems. And on top of that, Kuçen’s magnificent view…

04.00 in the morning, 17.00 in the evening

My friends who had scenes on a given day got up around 04.00, finished breakfast around 05.00 and started filming. Imagine what it is like to take that morning frost with half a metre of snow on the ground, at a thousand or fifteen hundred metres above sea level! And that was only for those of us acting. The camera crew, the lighting crew and the director worked from 04.00 to 17.00 every single day without fail, and for the first time I saw how much intense labour a film shoot demands. I did think, too, of those who stretch out in their cosy rooms and watch TV series.

Most of the filming in Şavşat was done at the foot of Sahara. Those who know, know; those who don’t will rightly ask, “Where is Sahara?”

Sahara is the forested summit of the road linking Şavşat and Ardahan. A beauty whose sign at the highest point reads 2640 metres. The pine trees on the stretch up to 2,000 metres are worth seeing. Above 2,000 it looks just like a highland pasture, that is, there are no trees. In winter it is adorned with a pure white blanket of snow, in summer with lush green meadows. These are the summer pastures of the people of the region.

As I said, it turned out to be hard work. To be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted to be in Selim Güneş’s shoes. Nor in Nur Güneş’s, of course. Listening to everyone’s troubles, preparing the setting, sorting out what was missing, thinking about the shots: a mountain of work rested on those people’s shoulders. The responsibility for a work that had been talked about and publicised, and that also had to succeed, should not be underestimated.

The hut we built at the bend near Laşet also serves as our shelter. We set up a little stove and go there to warm up between tasks. That hut and that stove are also part of the film. At the end of the film a fire breaks out, and the wooden hut that sheltered us for so long burns to ashes.

A wedding scene

“White as Snow” has a wedding scene. Selim Güneş and his team are looking for a place to shoot it. I don’t know whom they asked or how they found it, but they set their sights on an old school building in Şavşat’s village of Vanta (Elmalı). One of those old, single-storey, two-classroom stone schools we all know. Sadly it is empty now. It is one of the places where primary schools were turned into eight-year primary education and village schools were emptied under the bussing system. We went early for the filming. Friends who had gone ahead had cleaned the school and decorated the larger classroom and the entrance. The schoolyard had also been arranged for the wedding. What I was curious about was where they would find a crowd for a village wedding!

The people of the village and the area are volunteering as extras. Yet each of them is as experienced as if they had acted in films before. The men and women who come in their local costumes create just the harmony Selim wanted.

My mind goes back years, to that remote mountain village in Bitlis. What I lived through in Çırçak, where I was sent when I was barely more than a child, no doubt makes up a very important part of my life experience. A heap of memories, good and bad, come alive in my mind.

Inspector Turhan Satan comes to mind, for example. I remember him coming to the village one evening to inspect me, seeing my books in the wooden chest nailed to the wall, my being a soldier and thinking I would get into trouble because of those books, and being wrong. The portrait of Atatürk still hanging on the wall comes back to me, and who passed through that school, that classroom, who graduated, and where those graduates are now…

We think it was a successful shoot, and once again we take the road to Şavşat and from there to Laşet. Because the next day will again be busy and tiring… I’d like to bid you farewell with another poem I wrote in Şavşat. This poem has perhaps become the summary of our month-long adventure in Şavşat, İmerhev and Bazgiret.

LEAVING IS HARD

You know, leaving is hard,
being far from those you love.
Above all,
they are like frost falling on a flower,
long journeys;
like forgetting the salt in the soup,
the sugar in the tea.

Since before you were born,
stored in wooden chests,
the lace-edged headscarves:
now think of their bittersweet taste!
Think how
one side of them smells of loneliness!
Of a deadly longing
you find the tangible face;
being without you is exactly something like that.

Even breathing in the same city,
stepping on the same paving stones
tells a person so much, doesn’t it?
If on a snowy Şavşat evening,
in an aniseed-scented moment,
you fall for no reason into the very middle of my mind,
where can I hide you,
to whom and how could I ever tell my sorrow?

I said Mamanelis,
I remembered an old friend,
of a comrade from Gerkulop
the bruised fingernails caught in my mind;
not from the cold, but from torture.
At Laşet,
at the foot of the slope climbing to Sahara,
living days between shame and resistance,
in Şavşat Square
I kissed the sounds of the bullets that pierced my lungs.

You may not believe it, but
Enver Karagöz
was reciting a poem of independence; I heard it, I listened,
and the words were somehow like you;
clear,
fearless,
brave-hearted;
just like you, what more can I say…

*****