48
hayat hikayesi
life story
basımında, aradan geçen 37
yıldan sonra aynı hislere sahip
değildi. Yaşadıkları için üzgün,
bunlara sebep olanlara kırgın ve
kızgındı.
“Bırak olmasın mezar
taşımız, bir okul
bahçesine gömsünler
bizi çocuklar koşsun
üzerimizde.”
Bilinen adıyla Aziz, asıl adıyla
Mehmet Nusret Nesin 20 Aralık
1915’te İstanbul Heybeliada’da
gelmişti dünyaya. İstanbul
Süleymaniye’de, sonradan
adı İstanbul 7. İlkokul olarak
değiştirilen Kanuni Sultan
Süleyman İptidai Mektebi’nin
3. sınıfına girdi. 1935’te
Kuleli Askeri Lisesi’ni bitirip
Ankara’da Harp Okulu’na geçti
ve iki yıl sonra mezun oldu.
Her anı mücadeleyle geçen
80 yıllık yaşamına yüzlerce
eser, başarı ve ödül sığdırdı.
Temelleri 1972 yılında atılan ve
kurulduğu ilk günden bu yana
yüzlerce çocuğun eğitimine
katkı sağlayan Nesin Vakfı’nı
gençlere emanet eden Aziz
Nesin, 6 Temmuz 1995’te
Çeşme’de kalp krizi geçirerek
yaşamını yitirdi. Her zaman
“Tamamlayamadığım yazıların
sayısı, yayınlananlardan
kat kat daha fazla” derdi.
Yayınlanan 100’ün üzerinde
kitaba ölümünden sonra
yenileri eklendi. Nesin Vakfı,
ondan kalan yazıları toplayıp
yaklaşık 10-15 kitap daha
yayınladı. Cesedinin Devlet
Hastanesi’ne verilip, tıp fakültesi
öğrencilerinin araştırmalarında
kullanılmasını vasiyet etmişti
Aziz Nesin. Hayattayken hep
faydalı olmak için uğraştığı gibi
ölüsünün de birilerine faydalı
olmasını istemişti. Mutlu bir
dünya, aydınlık bir gelecek için
sürdürdü tüm ömrünü. İçinde
not selling. Of course, he had
things he could sell. His skills,
knowledge, labor… He made
oil paintings for one lira each
to a store at the Grand Bazaar,
gave old Turkish lessons. He
even found himself giving Qur’an
lessons at the Grand Mosque.
Thus, he made ends meet in
this way until the parents of the
children found out who he really
was and decided not to send
their kids.
“You are both your guest
and host. Embrace and
host yourself while you
still have time. Because
you know that the future is
very close. Some will say.
So love yourself now, love
yourself, love! Who do you
have to love you, but you,
yourself?”
Aziz Nesin thought that evenings
were the most difficult periods
of time for hurt and troubled
people and that is why he kept
on taking long walks along the
streets of Bursa as night started
to descend. Partly to explore the
city and partly to forget himself.
He had found a coffeehouse
in the rural parts of Temenyeri
overlooking Bursa from up high.
He wondered for many hours
about his loneliness and his
family at this place that took
one’s self to times that are far
away. His beloved wife for whom
he had risked his days of exile
had left him. Because he was an
exile here. It was forbidden for
him to leave the city and there
was a notebook he had to sign
every morning and every night
at the police station. Despite all
these, he had went to Istanbul to
see his wife even if for a couple
of hours. But what he saw was
that his wife who he always
thought even before himself
during difficult times had left
him. Aziz Nesin had accepted
that he was all alone. The young
newspaper reporter Haluk Yetiş
was perhaps his only aid and
maybe his only real friend to
whom he wrote letters every day
during his exile and to whom he
