Today is January 17th 2021. In every respect just another very normal day (if such a thing exists in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, that is!) But it also just happens to be my 50th Birthday!! How fast the years have gone… As a child I remember wishing that time would pass by quickly as I was eager to be independent, and of course because I wanted to go to bed later! But now I long for it to slow down a little, even pause sometimes, to allow me to savour precious moments for longer. And these days, I actually look forward to going to sleep early!
As I tentatively embrace this milestone birthday, I find myself reflecting on the past, considering the present and wondering about the future. How did my childhood forge me into the person that I am today? Do I feel happy, and am I making the most of every day? And do I have dreams for the future? This is a post where I simply openly share with you my personal reflections and thoughts…
THE PAST
Family Heritage
My unique family background is perhaps the single most important factor that has determined who I am. Being a member of the Imperial Ottoman family is something I am obviously incredibly proud of. It is an honour, a privilege and is deeply humbling to know that the blood of Ottoman sultans and caliphs run in my veins. Yet, at times, it has not been easy living with this legacy, and it certainly affected my childhood quite dramatically.
I was born at a time when my father, Osman Selahaddin Osmanoğlu, was still forbidden from going to Turkey. My entire family were exiled from our homeland in 1924, and not allowed to return until fifty years later in 1974. We were therefore a family living in enforced exile, who had no alternative but to make our homes abroad. Forced to assimilate into foreign cultures around the globe in order to survive. Yet, never truly belonging anywhere… Never really fitting in… And always searching for that missing part of themselves… This is how I feel… How I have always felt…
L-R Prince Ali Vasıb, Princess Emine Mukbile, Richard Constantine Christoforides and Eugenie Elizabeth Christoforides (née Rogers-Tillstone)
I am often asked why I live in England. Well, my father was born in Alexandria, in Egypt. He came to England to further his education, and decided to settle here after falling in love and marrying my beautiful and vivacious mother, Athena Joy. She was born in England, went to school and grew up here, but is of Greek ancestry. She is quintessentially English in many ways, but she did try to learn Turkish and has always fully supported and done all she can to nurture a deep sense of pride in her children for our Ottoman heritage. This is how I came to be born in England, and why I grew up here.
To live in exile, to be displaced, to grow up in a foreign land, is hard. Very hard. I do not remember when my father first told me about my family history, or when I began to appreciate that I was a little bit ‘different’. The only Moslem girl in my schools. The only child whose name the teachers could never pronounce. So many little girls dream of being a princess, but not me.. I could not see what possible advantages there were! It seemed to me that there were only disadvantages. Children can be so cruel. And unfortunately teachers can be bullies.
As a result, I learned from a very young age what prejudice was. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to confide in my parents about what was happening at school. At the time I did not want to worry them, and I felt a little embarrassed at my own weakness at allowing myself to feel hurt. By not speaking out I allowed the jibes, the taunting and constant nastiness that I endured at school, on account of being Moslem, Turkish and a princess, to deeply affect me. Perhaps this is the reason I find it so hard to trust people, why I value kindness, loyalty and constancy above all things, and why I am tough, maybe a little detached, and perhaps too self-reliant and independent.
Family Tragedy
A family tragedy was the other major factor that I believe forged my character. When I was nearly eight years old, my baby brother died very suddenly. Nihad Reşad was such a smiley, happy baby, but he was taken from us far too early when he was only 3 months old. He died of cot-death, or sudden infant death syndrome as it is known today.
Our little family was never the same again. It was as though the sun that had shone on my childhood henceforward was hidden by clouds. My parents were naturally both completely and utterly devastated. My mother changed overnight. In some ways we lost her too. At least the old her. There does not seem to be a word strong enough to describe how grief stricken she was. Seeing my parents suffer and broken into pieces by their all-consuming grief, and not knowing what to do or what to say to help them, was incredibly difficult. My brother, Orhan Murad, and I struggled to process our feelings. I remember that we slept in the same bed for weeks, just holding hands, letting our tears fall onto our pillows at night. We had so many questions, but no one to ask. We certainly did not want to upset our parents further by asking naïve questions. But we just could not comprehend what had happened – how our little, innocent brother had been totally fine the night before, and then the following morning he was gone. No goodbyes. So final.
Perhaps the biggest impact of this devastating tragedy, was watching the subsequent breakdown of my parents’ marriage. It was 1978 – there was little understanding of the need for grief and bereavement counselling. So, my parents were left to cope with their grief alone and in their own ways. And they in turn did not know how to best support each other. So they drifted apart, and finally divorced after many unhappy years. I therefore see my childhood in two parts – the before and the after. Before was sunny and happy. After was cloudy and troubled… I know that my brothers and I are a little scarred by the ‘after’ years. But I think these years forged us into the independently strong and resilient people that we are today.
THE PRESENT
Personal Life
As my ‘About Ayşe‘ page says, I live in Sussex, UK and I have been happily married to my best friend Nick for over 26 years. We met at University and married soon after I completed my Masters Degree. We are blessed to have four wonderful sons and a beautiful daughter, who bring love and great joy to our lives. My eldest son, Maximilian Ali, turned 21 on Friday – his childhood gone in a flash! Cosmo Tarik is 19, Lysander Cengiz will be 18 in April, my only daughter Tatyana Aliye will be 16 in March and my baby, Ferdinand Ziya (who is sadly no longer a baby anymore) is 14.
Since I was a little girl, I always dreamed of being a mummy. I would play with my dolls for hours, imagining them to be real babies – practising for the day when I would hold my first child. I never imagined that I would be so fortunate as to be blessed with such a large family – five happy, healthy, beautiful children. They are my everything. They are my light. I need nothing more to feel complete… So, yes, I can honestly say that I am happy, and I thank Allah every day for his benevolence.
However, the pandemic has been tough on us all – whether we have lost a loved one, whether we face financial hardship or are suffering mental anxiety. I have got through these challenging times by enjoying the simple things, and by treasuring this unexpected and very precious extra time that it has allowed me to spend with my children. Of course I desperately miss my father, who I have not been able to see since last January, as he is in Istanbul and I am here. I worry about my mother, who lives alone and has barely left her house since last March because of the virus. Rare ‘social distanced’ visits and Zoom calls are obviously not the same as being able to hug one another and be together… But my present, my now, is my children – and this is what matters most to me. Perhaps because of my past – because I am self-reliant, independent and resilient this ‘new normal’ that is our ‘present’ is actually ok. Although, I must admit that the constant snacking and trail of mess that my children leave behind does drive me a little crazy sometimes! My kitchen is never tidy!! I am sure many of you with children can relate to that!?
Not everything is positive in any of our lives, though. The restrictions of quarantine, lockdown and curfews are hard on us all. And of course I have fears and worries like everyone else, but I do try not to let them consume me. One thing that does affect me though, however hard I try to block them out, are the negative comments I occasionally receive on social media. I recently set up an Instagram and Twitter page. It has been lovely connecting to people who want to know more about members of the Ottoman family who are alive today, and I am often humbled by their expressions of love and respect which they hold towards my family. However, the few who see these pages as a forum to voice unpleasant, uninformed and offensive opinions does lead me to think that it might be best to shut down the pages. It hurts to receive nasty comments, and some really do pierce my heart.
There are two comments I find particularly hurtful. These same two comments are sent to me all the time. They probably hurt the most because a small voice inside my head agrees with them. “You dishonour your ancestors by not speaking Turkish fluently. It is shameful.” And the second is “You do not look Turkish. You and your children look foreign. How can you be Ottoman?”
Well, unfortunately no one taught me Turkish as a child, and I grew up in a small village in England. My own country had exiled my grandparents and had turned its back on my family. People forget this. However, when I finished university I did try to learn Turkish and took a language course in London. I learned a little but not enough. For a number of reasons travelling to Turkey was not easy, until I was finally granted Turkish citizenship in 2008. By this time I was married and was a mother to five young children. I simply had no time to do anything, let alone improve my Turkish language. It is without doubt the biggest regret of my life – that I do not speak fluent Turkish. I wish my father or grandparents had taught me when I was young, but sadly they didn’t. However, my soul is unequivocally Turkish, so I pray that my ancestors are not ashamed of me. As to how I look, and how my children look. Well, Allah Himself created us all, and only He determines the colour of our eyes, the shape of our nose, the shade of our skin… So, I make no excuse for how we look. Our blood, our DNA, is Turkish. It is Ottoman. I need say no more. I need make no further explanation. Yet the criticism still hurts. I am clearly not as tough or strong as I like to think!
Professional Life
It has been a very busy few months for me. For years I ran a property development and investment company with my husband. Then about 10 years ago, I took a huge step back from work and retired. I poured everything in to making our home and our children as happy as possible.
And then, a few years ago I started doing something for me. I started doing the research for my first book, ‘The Gilded Cage on the Bosphorus’. It had always been my dream – to write an historical fiction book on the Muradiye branch of the Ottoman family. And finally, I was actually doing it and it was thrilling! In May 2020, on the anniversary of Sultan Murad V’s accession to the throne, I published the ebook. On my father’s 80th birthday in July 2020 I published the paperback edition of the book. And I am now working on the Turkish translation, which I hope to launch on 13th October 2021 – on my grandfather’s birthday. The story begins with my grandfather’s birth, so it seemed like the most appropriate date.
It feels wonderful to be able to say that I am an author. I have published a book. A book about my family, for my family, and in honour of my family. The book I always dreamed of writing. I have never felt more satisfied. More fulfilled… And I am grateful to everyone who helped me in this journey that led to my dream becoming a reality.
THE FUTURE
As I embrace this milestone birthday, slightly wary of what lies ahead of me in this new decade, I am conscious of wrinkles appearing on my face, of my hair turning grey and I admit that I weigh far more than I should! But I am content, and even excited about the future. Strangely I do not feel too anxious about it…
I have begun the research for the sequel to ‘The Gilded Cage on the Bosphorus’. This book will follow the Muradiye branch of the Ottoman family between the turbulent years of 1906-1909. I do not have a working title yet – nothing I have come up with seems quite right. Although ‘The Changing Currents of the Bosphorus’ is a possible option… If you have any suggestions please do share them with me – your help would be greatly appreciated! For those of you who have studied Ottoman history, you will know that this volatile period saw a coup, a counter coup, the deposition and exile of Sultan Abdülhamid, and the introduction of constitutional monarchy to the Empire under Sultan Mehmed Reşad. For the family of Sultan Murad V, held for so long in confinement at the Çırağan Palace, they were finally set free.
I have many plans. The restrictions that we have all been living under during the COVID-19 pandemic has shown me that I should not to put off till tomorrow what I could do today. Life truly is a gift. One that should not be wasted. And time is so very very precious. So, my husband and I hope to travel much more – we live in such a beautiful world… One day I would love to see the lavender fields of Provence in full bloom, and the cherry trees blossom in Japan. I want to visit Petra, Cordóba, and of course Jerusalem. I certainly plan to spend more time in İstanbul and at my home in Bodrum. My girlfriends and I will go to all those art and fashion exhibitions and visit the historic houses and places that we have talked about going to for so long! And who knows, maybe I will be blessed with grandchildren in the not too distant future!! İnşallah.
There is much to look forward to…
TO END….
Fifty isn’t so bad! After all, it is a blessing to have reached this age – many are not so lucky… My little brother for one… So, I am content, and grateful beyond words for all that life has given me and promises to give me in the future. My past made me who I am. It gave me the armour and handed me the shield which has enabled me to face the battle that is life. With all its victories and defeats – its highs and its lows. I have been blessed with loving parents, wonderful family and loyal friends. I have an amazing husband and five beautiful children. And I have my writing… I have so much…
As I write this, I feel ready for the next chapter in my life. I accept my past and fully accept my fate. I may not really fit in anywhere; I may be a little different. But, that’s ok, after all we are all different aren’t we?! We are all unique. It has just taken me fifty years to realise this…!!
So, if I was to speak to my younger self, I would say try to accept your past – for this will allow you to be content with your present and be excited for your future.
I pray you and your families keep safe and well.
