This page hints at the interestingly complex cultural family history that Zeynel originated from: he’s of Spanish (hence the surname, deCordoba – of Cordoba), North African, Persian and Sephardic ancestry.
The paternal side of his family reflects a historical legacy of immigration: having thrived as Jewish scholars in the intellectual centre of Umayyad-era Cordoba, his ancestors escaped persecution after the Muslim empire’s collapse. They found a new home in Istanbul, more or less continuing the same social arrangement under yet another Muslim empire. Many life events across generations led to Zeynel’s existence (to be seen in the who-knows-when-it-will-happen prose spinoff).
I don’t elaborate on it much in the text of this story, but this family background impacts Zeynel deeply and is core to how he as a character represents the core themes of TCM: story and migration.
Papu is Ladino for grandfather.
The most prominent figure in the hierarchy of his mind was his Papu Yosef – Efraim's father and Zeynel’s grandfather – who was a renowned historian, cartographer and storyteller, and who brought up the Spanish-hailed, Sephardic family of deCordoba into prestige in Istanbul. And then most immediate were the reputation of his physician mother Zeyneb, and the looming shadow of his astronomer-lecturer father Efraim. All were looking at him to continue their legacy, to follow in the footsteps of the scholars who came before him, who made him.
He was overwhelmed.
How could he possibly?
Who was he?
If not for the hafiz title, he would be nothing. That was the truth of it: he was actually nothing. He was hiding behind names and the privilege of academia. He was hiding behind a crafted facade for himself – of an accomplished boy who knew politics, science, the Quran, anything – but it only worked if the impressiveness of academia and the decorum of pleasant small talk were enough to make up an interesting person. When people wanted more than that – when they wanted to get to know him, to see the boy behind the books – , he drew a blank.
He knew nothing about himself. He didn't have any other hobbies, besides studying and collecting stories. He could not speak about his future, because he didn't entirely believe in it. Did he want to become an imam because he truly wanted to, or was it because his family expected him to? He could not speak of his past either. It would incriminate his family, of the things they had done and said, of things that should only be unknown to strangers.
When it came time to know Zeynel, what was there to know?
He was nothing.
And he would rather not let people know this truth.
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Tears have been welling up in Zeynel’s eyes as he spoke, and towards the end of the confession he could only bear to hide his face behind his palms. No stranger should see him cry like this. What more Ayşe. She doesn’t deserve to see him at his most vulnerable, and to listen to all of his rambling. Then again, if he already is messing things up, he may as well keep going. At least he has told someone about the emptiness in his heart, even if it isn't yet the full story.
