The Strawberry-Scented Eraser

Karadeniz Ereğli, Turgut Reis Primary School… Class 2/B
The year was 1969.

I still remember Seher, the daughter of the district governor…
And Gönül, the daughter of a coal miner.
Bora, whose father was a notary… And Mustafa, the son of Aunt Nazik, our school janitor.
If you hadn't known them personally, you couldn't have guessed whose child was whose.
You wouldn’t have known who Mustafa’s father was either.

Because no one could separate us by looking at our shoes.
There were only two types of shoes in town anyway: black and brown.
And a pair of rubber boots in a single color.
We all wore the same cloth-top school shoes—boys and girls alike.
We cherished them so much that we wouldn’t wear them for the first few days.
We’d keep them by our bedsides.
We knew they’d fall apart at the soles in a matter of weeks.
And our shoes were always one or two sizes too big—
So they’d still fit us next year.

Once, Handan’s father brought her a strawberry-scented eraser from Germany, where he worked.
Every single one of us took turns smelling it.
Some of us asked for second turns.
Handan’s strawberry-scented eraser…
I can still smell it.

Fathers back then didn’t break easily.
Their pride was never crushed—that’s why they stood tall.
We only asked for something on rare, carefully chosen occasions.
Even then, their response would be: “We’ll see.”
And then we’d all "see" together—for months.

There was no television back then.
No clown could steal our time.
Maybe that’s why we were happier.
Maybe that’s why we fell asleep so easily.
Two scoops of ice cream from a street vendor was enough to keep us well-behaved.

Now, looking back, I think…
What a beautiful childhood we had.
We didn’t lose sleep over dreams we couldn’t reach.
We didn’t know how to envy, thankfully.
There were only two kinds of pants; some regular, some denim.
Our mothers' hand-knit sweaters were all we needed.

And perhaps most importantly:
We never cried ourselves to sleep because we longed for what others had.
We didn’t have fathers burdened by broken pride.

We grew up in a time when people were valued simply because they were human.
There was something in the friendships, the laughter, the street games of those days:
Equality, sincerity, and trust.

And even today, in the place where I work with the same belief, we have a guiding philosophy: “People First.”
To see not differences but hearts.
To approach everyone with empathy and respect.
Just like those children who passed Handan’s eraser around...
Breathing together, sharing together.

Years later, when I took on the role of head coach for the Yeşim Sports basketball team in 2003,
I was still carrying the spirit of that classroom.
Because being a team is exactly like that:
Not looking at shoes or last names...
But running together, sweating together,
And succeeding together.

Even today, what I miss the most is that school uniform with the white collar.
And of course, Handan’s strawberry-scented eraser.

Cem ÇAĞAL

Yeşim Sports Head Coach / Director