|An Untold Love Story
By Yagmur Dursun
My name is Yagmur (it means "rain"). I was born in rural Turkey, in
a village. Generally Turkish women enjoy many freedoms, which our
Arab sisters canít even think of. Rural Turkey is a different story.
Honor killings take place every day, women donít have much say (if
any) in household matters and female employment is out of question.
However, much hard work is done by women because men donít want to
strain themselves; women are like cattle or slaves. If husband tells
you to do something, you have to obey.
My mother was a fairly educated woman, she taught me at home and I
even went to school. My hobby was reading books. Through them I
learnt different languages and acquired a lot of knowledge.
I was a disciplined and obedient girl, unlike my sister who was
somewhat uppity. When she was 18, she fell in love with a young man.
They both loved each other but he was meant for another girl, thus
his parents had decided. Dating is utterly forbidden in Islam,
marriages are arranged and often young people meet on their wedding
My sister was rebellious. She ďdatedĒ that young man. Every night
she would go to see him. They even kissed and actually their
relationship went too far. She got pregnant. At first they planned
to run away to a big city where they would be safe. They knew in
villages, religion rules and they could be in trouble. Authorities
donít care whatís going on in rural Turkey. Sometimes imams, mullahs
and elders who try to practice Sharia and break the secular state
law are punished but usually authorities are more interested in big
cities full of tourists and turn a blind eye to what happens in
I remember their young faces. I didnít understand the whole
situation; I was a little girl. But when I looked at them I could
see they were happy. Their happiness made me happy too and I wanted
Instead of eloping, they decided to speak to my father. "Pregnancy
is a very good reason to get permission for marriage", or so they
Alas, my sister had miscalculated my fatherís love for her and his
obsession with his religion. He became furious. Instead of letting
the two young lovers marry and build their nest of love, he took her
to the religious elders and they ruled that she had committed
adultery. She was sentenced to death by stoning. They showed no
mercy even for her unborn child. She had stained the ďhonourĒ of the
family and the only way to remove that stain was to nip her life in
the bud. Her unborn baby was a stain too and that little creature
had to be destroyed as well, so my family could live honorably.
In the evening before her execution, she came to my room and told me
that she would miss me. She was crying and hugged me to her bosom.
Then she smiled and said that soon she would see her unborn baby. I
was blissfully unaware of her fate, but I felt that something bad
was about to happen. I was so scared!
you have the stomach to watch, click
see a video of Muslims actually stoning 4 people to
I still remember her black eyes; she stared at the sky while she was
dug into the ground. She was wrapped in white sheets and her hands
were tide to her body. She was buried up to her waist. The rabid mob
circled her with stones in their hands and started throwing them at
her while the roars of Allah-u-Akbar Allah-u-Akbar added to their
frenzy. She twitched with pain as the stones hit her tender body and
smashed her head. Blood gushed out from her face, cheeks, mouth,
nose and eyes. All she could do was to bend to the left and to the
right. Gradually the movements slowed down and finally she stopped
moving even though the shower of the stones did not stop. Her head
fell on her chest. Her bloodied face remained serene. All the pain
had gone. The hysteric mob relented and the chant of Allah-uíAkbar
stopped. Someone approached and with a big boulder in his hand
smashed the scull of my sister to finish her off. There was no need
for that; she was already dead. Her bright black eyes that beamed
with life were shut. Her jovial laughter that filled the world
around her was silenced. Her heart that beat with such a heavenly
love for only a short time had stopped. Her unborn baby was not
given a chance to breathe one breath of air. He (or she) accompanied
his young mother in her solitary and cold tomb, or who knows, maybe
to a better place where love reigns and pain and ignorance are not
known. These two budding lives had to be nipped so my father could
keep his honor.
Woman being prepared for stoning- Iran
She wanted to marry a man whom she loved. She dreamt wearing a white
wedding dress, that there would be a big ceremony, lots of people
would be invited and they all would congratulate her, chant merry
songs and throw flowers and confetti at her. Yes there was a
ceremony, but it was not her wedding. She was dressed in white but
that was not her wedding gown. Lots of people came to the party but
they came to curse her and to throw stones at her. No music was
played and no merry songs were sang; only screams of Allah-u-Akbar
filled the air. The only hug she got was from the cold earth in
which she was half buried. The only kisses that she received were
from the rocks thrown at her that tore her flesh and broke her
bones. They were the kisses of death. She was not united with the
man whom she loved but was wed to death.
This was a tragedy for my sisterís young lover. His life lost its
meaning. He got lashes but nothing more. He could well forget about
the whole affair and get along with his life, but he didn't. I
recall seeing him standing in front of our house every day, as if
waiting for my sister to come out and meet him. I could see him
crying. I can only imagine that when he was not crying in front of
our house he was in the cemetery, crying over the grave of his love
and his baby. One day he could no more bear his pain and hanged
His death was hushed and no one talked about it. Maybe no one cared.
He was reunited with his love and his baby. No one can hurt them
anymore. No one can separate them from one another again.
It is a sad story. But unlike the story of Romeo and Juliet it is a
story that is never told. No one talks about those young lovers. No
one sheds tears for them. Not only they were buried, their memories
were also buried as if they never existed - their tender love was a
shame to others - a shame that had to be washed with blood.
But the saddest part is that according to Islam my sister deserved
that death. The elders were sure she would be burning in Hell for
eternity. No, I can't imagine that God can send someone to Hell for
loving and for being happy. I can't accept a cruel God.
Now back to my life. When I turned 18, I was married off to a
Turkish businessman from Germany. When I came to Germany I found out
that he had another wife.
He is not a bad man at all. He is very kind, but he is a Muslim. He
doesnít understand why Europeans donít like polygamy, for instance.
He doesnít allow us to leave the home. He protects our honor in this
Then we moved to the UK. Here we are even more isolated than in
Germany because there are fewer Turks. In Germany we at least could
meet our fellow expats.
As for my relationship with my husband's first wife, we are friends.
There is some rivalry between us, thatís for sure. But I am alone
and canít meet anyone or leave home. Her life is just as dull and
empty as mine. We canít hate each other; we should be friends to
overcome our troubles. My co-wife and I are like two cellmates. We
only have each other. There is not much room for antagonism or hard
I have 5 children, she has 4. She occupies a more privileged
position within our family because she has a son. I have given birth
only to daughters so far.
We are both educated, but she is so obsessed with kids that she has
given herself up. I am still trying to grasp at non-existent straws;
probably one day I will be freedÖ I read books, keep myself informed
and like to think. She is not remotely interested in reading books
or thinking. I am alone.
Sometimes I think of running away, but I have 5 daughters. I can
neither leave them, nor run away with them. Actually, I am stuck.
Even though I left Islam a long time ago, I cannot stop praying or
fasting. My husband keeps a rod for the disobedientÖ
When I try to protest, my mouth is shut up with quotes from the
Quran. Islam defines our lives. Isnít it stupid that people live
according to a book written a long time ago?
I am not whining about my life but I do hate Islam. At least I could
object to certain traditions but Islam preserved the worst in our
culture, reducing women into slavery and keeping them ignorant. What
can you expect from an uneducated woman?
When I look at my daughters, I pray that they may live in a free
world, free from Islam and this slavery.
Ali, you promised to defeat Islam very soon, so please do it.
I know sometimes you must feel like giving up. It seems to me youíve
devoted yourself fully to the good cause of yours. You may feel at
times that you will never succeed. I just want to say that you are
fighting for women like me. When you despair, think of me and
millions of women with similar tragic experiences. Never give up.
You are my knight in shining armor. I just want you to know that I
am your keen supporter.
Please sent this story to your friends and publish it in your site.
Yagmur Dursun is a pen name. Some details of this story have been
changed to hide the identity of the author.