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Cultural Migration in Autobiography Grundtvig Partnerships 2009-2011

This project has been funded with support from the European Commission. This publication reflects the views only of the author, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.

e-mail: kszia@komesnet.com.pl http://cma.internetdsl.pl

37

Wie Tuna die Nadelstiche bekommt Annabella Akcal

Tuna swore at my mother. You don’t do that when you’re seven, swear at mother, you don’t do it. I never dared to do such a thing.

I always only swore to myself or suppressed it, swore at my mother into myself.

Screaming, my mother chases my sister through the apartment. She curses. She curses my little sister. Aytül and I don’t bother ourselves with it. We sit in our room and do our homework. But I feel hot inside. The apartment still smells of lahmacun.

That’s what we had for lunch. After we came from school Aytül und I immediately washed our hands and had to help with the baking. „So one day when you have a husband, you can make him lahmacun,“ my mother believed. Tuna didn’t help, and that’s when my mother bellowed that all her daughters must be able to make lahmacun.

And Tuna said „Agsina sicim“ to her. Tuna could get away with everything. We weren’t allowed to do as much as she was. But then Tuna helped. Aytül washed the dishes and I dried and put them away and we ate lunch.

Now this time Tuna is going to get chased through the apartment. Tomorrow it’ll be my turn or my older sister’s. Tuna seldom gets chased. I can’t do my homework because of the noise. I still feel so hot inside. From the dining room across the living room, into the hallway, into the orange-colored kitchen that my father built himself, back to the dining room – a roundtrip, a roundchase. Tuna it‘s like playing „Tag“ on the field, but my mother is furious, even I can gather that from my desk.

It takes a while until my mother catches her. Tuna laughs, it was fun. My mother drags my sister to the bathroom in the hallway that had been extended and to the right of our bedroom. She calls for Aytül and me to help. We get up from our table and go into the bathroom. My mother is holding Tuna’s hands tightly, she’s pushed the little one onto the floor and is pressing her right knee against the tiny body. Tuna fights back. She no longer laughs, she’s afraid now.