Pastor's Cigar / Okan Üstünkök

    

PASTOR’S CIGAR VERSUS THE JUJUBE FLOWERS

 

 This piece was first written in 2018  with the title Derelict Cemetery. This is a 2021  re-write with a new title and  only some  slight editing here and there..  For those who are interested, the Turkish version is  also to be found elsewhere in the Blogspot.( Papazın Pürosu İğde Çiçeklerine Karşı)

 

That Sunday morning the man was walking aimlessly when he found himself  near the weekly farmers’ market. He did not want to mix with the  crowd  and,  rather than going in  and  meandering among the stalls, he chose to turn into the narrow alley behind the blank, nondescript back wall of the marketplace. Expecting to find the alley chock-full of farmers’  trucks and filthy refuse,  he was pleasantly  surprised to see how clean  and tranquil the little street was. He noted that  it was too narrow for vehicles and there was also a church on one side. ‘’Oh! I see’’,  said the man to himself. ‘’This explains the cleanliness’’.   He slowed down to look at the small  churchyard which,  compared to the larger and well-kept gardens of houses down the road,  stood rather  modest, to say the least.  With the farmers’ market on one side and only a handful of houses near by, the church was somewhat out of place, too. There was also  an overwhelming scent of jujube flowers coming from the neighboring gardens at that time of the year. ‘’What a dense smell those darn trees exude! Nice, but more than a tad too strong. Very much like the rich, uncouth  women who flaunt  their  toiletry by forcing  their perfumes into nostrils of others‘’,   the man mumbled angrily. He had always associated the scent of the jujube flowers with the heavy, to him nauseating, fragrances splashed on profusely  by the well-to-do women with rich husbands,  on their way to a tea party in the lazy afternoons wearing  fancy dresses and heavy make-up.  It was certainly  due to  his lower-class background  leaving   him with a baggage of social prejudices which he has not shed off even after he himself had become wealthy, really wealthy.                                                                                                           

The cobblestones of the alley were still wet and somewhat slippery from the morning’s rain. Walking carefully so as not to skid and fall, the man pushed the squeeky iron gate and entered the churchyard where there were many graves. The gate was rusty and the entire yard,  graves and all, seemed disused and derelict. There did not seem to be any  recent burials. The dates carved on  existing headstones were all  fairly old. Walkways were overgrown with creeping weeds and ivy.  The graves themselves  looked gravely unattended, too. ‘’Gravely unattended graves!’’  The man repeated after his own thoughts. ‘’That’s a pun I can maybe use later somewhere...’’            The church, presumably of a minority sect, was obviously in dire financial need.  Not only the yard but also  the building appeared to be in poor maintenance. The  gutters and downpipes were broken here and there heaven knows since when  and the overflow has already drenched the walls even  in the morning’s slight drizzle.   ‘’ These would be useless in a heavy downpour’’,  observed the man.   ‘’Look at the walls. Soaking wet. Stones are spalling,  joints need repointing.  And the  windows? The  frames are all in a pathetic state of disrepair. How awful!’’.                                                                         

The cemetery had indeed long been  abandoned and people were now taking  their deceased to the town’s main burial ground way outside the settled area. In fact, the man knew that the local administration encouraged that and  provided free funeral service to all denominations, even to the smallest of the minority groups, whatever the affiliation. ‘’Yet the minorities still whine like pooping babies, for pity’s sake’’ the man murmured, again tersely,  under his breath. ‘’ Minority rights is all you hear about. Well, what about me? I am a minority myself, a minority of one, at that. There is nobody like me, is there now?   I am a loner, damn it, not even a minority. Better still, a lone star!’’.  He liked the  designation and his face beamed. ‘’Yeah! A lone star. A lone star indeed.  That’s what I am.  Like Texas! Big, strong, esoteric in many ways, and...’’   -pausing  for a split second, ‘’..and freaking lonely’’ he said, his  smile fading.                                                                                                         

As immersed as he was in his thoughts the man still saw, through the corner of his eye, somebody coming out of the  church. ‘’Oh, it must be the Pastor sneaking out for a smoke after the service’’,  he assumed. Sure enough, unaware of the man’s presence, the clergy man closed the door behind him and slowly  reached for  the pocket hidden between the folds  of his robe, took out a cigar, unwrapped it and, bringing  it to his ear, rolled it between his fingers so as to hear its faint crackling.  He then licked the end wet before he put it in his mouth  to light it. Cigar was the Pastor’s one and only vice, as it were. He detested cigarettes for their stale smell in ashtrays. Pipe tobacco was better but, nonetheless, he did not like it much because he felt most brands were ‘’perfumed’’. Cigar, on the other hand, was pure tobacco. No additives, nothing.  Just as he brought the match to his cigar he noticed the man but went on to light  his beloved,  precious cigar and then  softly spoke, exhaling the first lungful of smoke. ‘’Good morning.  Can I help  you in any way?’’  The man did not know what to say. He stammered a few words of excuse which came out  only as idiotic blithering of an intruder caught in the act. The Pastor would not allow the man to make a fool of himself. He softly asked ‘’may I assume that you have a relative buried here? Is that what brings you to my church?’’ Encouraged  by the Pastor’s politeness and the pleasant whiff of the cigar smoke, the man was more composed now.  ‘’I apologize for tresspassing’’ he said,  calm and collected. ‘’The answer to your question is no.  I do not have a relative in your cemetery,  and I don’t belong to your congregation either’.  All of a sudden he found himself opening up to the Pastor. ‘’ I don’t mean to be offensive or anything but,  frankly, I don’t even believe in organized religions. That’s just the way I am. This morning  I happened to be passing by and  saw the church. You see, I did not know that there was a church here’’  he said and, as if wanting to change the subject, went on, ‘’ that’s a very nice tobacco you are smoking, if I may say so. I myself used to be a cigar smoker but I quit some time ago.  I realized that it effects my breathing and gives me a strange cough.  But now that I don’t smoke, I enjoy the aroma even more. In any case,  it is better than this overwhelming smell of jujube flowers in the air’’.  The Pastor apparenty did not have to go back in the church and  he was a bit curious about the man. ’’You said you didn’t know there was a church here. Are you from this town, then ?’’  ‘’Yes, yes, I am indeed. Born and bred. It is just that somehow I had never come out here before. You see, I was merely taking a walk, simply because I have nothing else to do these days. I wandered into this alley to avoid the farmers’ market and  saw the church. Forgive me for saying this but your  cemetery is so neglected.’’  ‘’You are absolutely right’’,  the Pastor almost cut him off, ‘’but the church itself is interesting. We have a few things that are of some value, like chandeliers and such. Would you care to see ?’’  ‘’Thanks but no thanks. Maybe some other time. However, I would not feel comfortable if I did  not mention something. May I ?’’  ‘’By all means..  What is it?’’  ‘’Well, the building needs serious maintenance from what I see and,  like I already said, the graveyard is really, uh, in shambles.. There is no other way to put it, I am sorry..’’  ‘’It is true, I know, but...’’  This time the man interrupted. ‘’How about the church goers, the congregation? Don’t they see this?    I am sure they can help, if not financially  at least by putting in some menial work, you know, like to clean and spiffy the place up a bit..’’  ‘’Oh, the congregation...’’ said the Pastor,with a sigh. ‘’What you call church-goers are no more than fifteen, twenty people and that’s on a good day. Besides, they are way past their prime. Their average age is almost eighty. They need the church to help them rather than the other way around and our resources are really, really limited. Actually, meagre  is a more fitting term. Under the circumstances and given the present day cultural environment, it is a miracle that we still exist.’’  With that, the conversation stalled. Neither of them could say anything to break the silence for a while. The man was the first to speak. ‘’Look, I always say there is a reason for everything. Maybe my walking in here this morning is not for nothing, after all.’’  ‘’How so?’’ the Pastor wondered.  ‘’Well, I already admitted that I don’t belong to your religion and am not religious at all but I do not disrespect others who are. Believe me, seeing the place in this  condition hurts me.’’    ‘’Me too, but what is there to be done? Money does not grow on trees, as they say.’’  ‘’Listen, I am a retiree. Have nothing to do but loiter around all day, every day. I can come and do some of the necessary work here. You know, clean the stones, hack off the weed, ivy...’’  ‘’Sir, I just told you, we have no money to pay you or anybody else, for that matter.’’  ‘’Oh! What the h... Who said anything about pay? I can come here a couple of  days for   a few hours and..’’  The Pastor would not have it.  ‘’No no, a thousand times no! I cannot allow that at all. That would put me in a very difficult position vis-a-vis the Church Commissioners, but thanks anyway. It’s not like I don’t appreciate your generous offer. You are very kind.’’ The man saw no point in insisting. ‘’Well, I think I understand. It was only a suggestion, please do not take it as an imposition. . The decision is of course yours...  On that note, I think  I should leave. It was nice meeting you. Have a good day, Sir.’’  ‘’You too, and thank you again.’’

That afternoon the man sat down in the parlor of his lavish house, reflecting on the morning’s encounter. One look  around the house and you could easily see that   he was not only a simple retiree with nothing to do, he was indeed a very, very rich  man. As he brought a silver chalice to his lips and took a sip from his expensive brandy accompanied by imported  Belgian chocolates, he pondered. The Pastor had not accepted the offer, which of course was his prerogative, but ‘’ if I go there when there is no one around like, say, in the wee hours of the night to clean up the place, it wouldn’t be a crime now, would it?’’he said to himself.  That would be  the way to do it. He could do it at one go, before the Pastor or others realized what was done.  ‘’That’s it!.  Yes, by Jove, I’ll do it like that! It bothers me to see a derelict cemetery. It’s so unfair to the dead. They can’t do the work themselves! I’ll do it and that’ll be the end of it. Who is to sue me?’’                                                        

Two days later he came to the narrow alley well after midnight. There was indeed no living soul around at that time of the day and it was pretty dark. The faint, yellowish light of the street lamp further down the road was of no use. The man pulled out a camping lantern from his tool bag. Pushed the rusty iron gate of the cemetery and went in. He placed the lantern on the surrounding wall and immediately started cleaning the graves and the walkways with the pick, the shovel, and the small rake he brought along.  A short while into the work, he felt a movement near the periphery wall. He straightened up to look. It was the heavy marble lid of a grave moving!     It couldn’t be an earthquake.  Nothing else had even stirred. He had goose pimples all over. All of a sudden he regretted what he was doing. ‘’You stupid idiot!’’ he cursed himself. ‘’Why in the name of heavens are you here in this godforsaken place to clean up someone else’s mess? Now you’ll have to deal with  howling ghosts instead of sitting in the comfort of your warm, cozy house!’’  He grew weak with fear, had to kneel down, holding on to the shovel. He was far from the gate and did not have the strength to get up and run anyway.  He had to stay put no matter what but he was so scared he was trembling. The marble lid of the grave  moved to the side just enough to let a bony hand appear from within. The hand  grabbed the end of the heavy slab and lifted it out of its place as if it were a piece of paper and  rested it outside against the side of the tomb. Then  the whole body came out! It looked both dead and alive with an ashen face, no cheeks,  and hollow eyes so deep in their holes that they looked as if gouged out. The man’s heart was thumping so hard, it could have jumped right out of his chest. The body, the corpse, the ‘thing’ that came out of the tomb, started to clean up the area around its  own grave, scraping the weeds and grit that had accumulated in who knows how many years. Then, another grave, nearer the man, slowly opened the same way. This time what came out seemed like the dried up body of a woman. She stumbled her way towards the man who was about to die of fear, put her  bony hand on the man’s shoulder and, in a creaking whisper, said  ‘’thanks’’, with a faint smile on her shriveled, parched lips. ‘’Nobody has ever shown any interest in this derelict cemetery, much less the willingness to clean it up like you did.    We may be dead but we are aware of our surroundings. You know, there is nothing to do in the grave. We’re all bored stiff.  Now you just stay where you are. We’ll do all the work. You then go to that smoking, no good Pastor tomorrow and tell him you did it all by yourself. He ain’t gonna hang you now, is he? Oh, won’t we all have a chuckle over it when you talk to him but you won’t hear us of course. Nobody ever does.  You are a good man, that’s what you are.’’  As the dead woman spoke, all the graves opened up, one by one, and every corpse  in the derelict cemetery came out to join in the work. With lively energy and enthusiasm each one cleaned his or her own grave and the walkways in between. The man could not believe what he was witnessing! Within less than an hour the whole cemetery was made spotless clean like new. Not derelict any more, no way! Then everybody slowly went back to the graves, climbed in and pulled  the  lids back on like weightless goose down comforters.                                                                                                                   

The man stayed where he was for some time before he slowly got up. He picked up the lantern and tools and walked towards the iron gate. Only when  he came out he noticed the  gentle rain falling as if to give the graves a final  wash.  The cobblestones of the alley had already  turned wet and  slippery. Walking slowly so as not to slip and lose his balance, the man again felt the heavy smell of jujube flowers coming from the garden next door. For the first time in his life, however, he liked the scent.

.                                                    ***

P