It was once the case, when I lived in Besiktaş a suburb of Istanbul, that the Turkish navy would send a warship on the eve of my birthday and moor it practically on the doorstep. The following day sailors in overalls could be seen working on the decks so that on the anniversary of my birth the entire ship would be illuminated with colourful fairy lights. The following day the ship would depart.

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I wasn’t even Turkish back in those days so knew little of Turkish history. One year on my mother’s birthday Turks even sent a warship to Portsmouth to join in celebrations. She was born on October 21st, which is the date upon which Nelson’s fleet defeated combined French and Spanish fleets off Trafalgar. Later I learned that the Turkish warship was there commemorating that event, and that the warship sent to Besiktaş was really there in commemoration of the last foreign troops departing Turkey at the conclusion of the War of Independence.

Now that I am a Turkish citizen it is wonderful to find that I was born on such an auspicious day for my adopted country. You might say that I share a birthday with that of the country that has embraced me. When others refer to me as a Yabanci, or foreigner, I am quick to point out that I am a Turk by choice, and they were merely born here. The logic of the statement, together with my date of birth soon shuts them up.

No native born Turk could make such an argument, of course, but were it possible very few would do so. I got the inspiration from an old black and white movie called ‘Passport to Pimlico’ in which residents of a part of London declare independence when they discover an old treaty gifting their part of the City to the Duke of Burgundy. My favourite line in the film is when Connie Pemberton, the wife of the local grocer asserts: “We always were English, and we’ll always be English, and it’s just because we are English that we’re sticking up for our rights to be Burgundians!”

And as you will see, as this tale proceeds, I in turn stood up for my right to be Turkish, but the circumstances of how that came about must come later.

One day my wife introduced me to her friend Abbas, who arranges conferences all over Turkey. He is humorous fellow, fluent in German, and English, whose clients read like a Who’s Who of the largest and most prestigious companies. In 2009 he organised an IMF – World Bank Congress in Istanbul and there, I learned, he had his photograph taken with Bill Clinton.

“Do you know”, Abbas asked over coffee at his country club, “That I had to organise a special video-link for Clinton and Alan Greenspan just so they could keep in-touch with their world wide interests?”

Unimpressed, I stared into the bottom of my coffee cup, but by a peculiar chain of events I was to make use of this information just a couple of days later.

An e-mail plopped, (I know it didn’t but you know what I mean), into my Inbox from a detective from an English North Country Police Force. He wanted to know if I could remember anything about a case I had been involved in during my social work days around thirty years ago, when I was employed as a child care consultant.

At first I confused the young person’s name with another person, but then after a night’s sleep a face appeared in my mind. This rapidly was followed by impressions of rooms. Some were images of the office where I had worked, but then there was a flash in which I saw the young person’s house and felt the crispness of a winter morning on my skin. I saw the Children’s home to which I had taken this young person, the face of it’s principal whose name I had not uttered for half a lifetime.

Bit by bit, from this kaleidoscope of shattered images a whole picture, or more correctly a coherent memory evolved. Where days earlier I could only experience silence and blackness when attempting to remember the circumstances of this drama I rapidly found I could think to the beginning of how I first met the young person concerned. I could fast forward in my mind to various meetings; I could attend case-conferences in my mind and also recall the faces, voices and opinions of my fellow professionals.

When I next spoke with the policeman we had a long conversation and he asked if I would write down what I recalled in an e-mail.

Normally I would be cautious about being so helpful but, you must understand,I spent some time working in Child Protection and worked alongside members of the Metropolitan Police later in my career. I understand just how awful it is for a child to be abused, and how their obtaining justice, even years after the event can, sometimes, help to heal them.

Moreover, as my memory continued to clear, a nagging doubt had emerged in my mind. Why hadn’t the abuser been prosecuted for the correct crime all those years ago?

In those days the police and social services investigations were carried out quite separately, and I now know that I had information in my files of which the police had been unaware. When the original prosecution had taken place it was for a comparatively minor offence, although the perpetrator spent time on remand, and in prison.

The Kurban Bayramı is roughly the equivalent of Christmas in terms of it’s impact on Turkish family life. People come together from all over Turkey to be together so although I was willing to help I wasn’t in my own home, nor was it my wish to spend lots of time talking by phone to England, or writing long e-mails. I think this was understood, but when I got back to my own home things began to speed-up in earnest.

My policeman ‘friend’ sent me 32 PDF reports by e-mail. They comprised most of the case notes I had prepared back in the 1980s, together with minutes of case conferences, child care reviews, and letters. Could I identify them and explain what each of them was he asked?

Over time more PDFs arrived. To make sense of them it became necessary to print them, and then something remarkable happened, I found myself sitting at my desk here in Turkey looking at the content of my desk in England thirty years before. It was like being transported in time. At one stage I looked to my left expecting to find Rob, who was my colleague and counterpart back then, and was surprised to find my eight year old daughter smiling at me in his stead!

As you can imagine, the inevitable happened, my e-mail became a Witness Statement, and the PDFs numbered exhibits. It seemed certain I would be called as a witness.

Charming as he was the English policeman knew nothing of setting up video links, although this was the option I had chosen were I to be called to give evidence.

I was handed over to a different unit that handles witnesses, which is inappropriately named ‘The Witness Care Unit’. For the first time in this story this was the point I encountered arrogance. The first contact I received from them read thus:

“In relation to the above case currently listed  Monday 29th November 2010, as it stands, you are required to give evidence.

“Having looked into the easiest option for you to give this evidence it seems the Live Link is most appropriate, however the nearest live link to Marmaris is Izmir, we are aware that this is a 4 hour drive away from you, the Crown Prosecution Service is willing to pay for your travel and accommodation expenses if required.

“Could you please confirm with me as a matter of urgency as to whether you are able to travel to Izmir to give your evidence.”

It happens that I don’t know Izmir, I’ve passed through it, and I daresay it’s O.K. if you make the best of it, but the fact is that in both Ankara and Istanbul I have my own accommodation available with both cars and drivers who are able to help me get about. Aside from that I don’t like being ‘required’ to do anything, by anyone, so people need to have a care how they ask!.

This was how I replied:

“I am a Turkish Citizen living in my own country, and as such I believe I cannot be ‘required’ to report to Izmir, or any other city other than by an official representing the Turkish Government. My fellow countrymen fought and won a bloody war for four years in order to rid our land of foreign interference, and I would be dishonouring their memory were I simply to be ordered around the place in this way.

“Over the past weeks I’ve spent considerable time helping your Force with this matter.

“The following are the contact details for Bitek Conference Systems who have vast experience in providing video links. They delivered encrypted conference links for Bill Clinton, 42nd President of the United States of America when he visited Turkey last month.

“Their manager tells me that it is possible to set up a suitable video link from Turunç, which is where I live. The system can be put up in any home within a few days. It will take a minimum of three days to enact a link, due to the time it takes to install temporary lines. You need to move quickly if you want me to be available for next week.

“I leave you to work out the details but naturally will do what I can at this end to ensure that a local video link progresses as, I trust, you require!”

The defendant pleaded guilty and the link wasn’t required.

Footnote: The Turkish War of Independence started on May 19th, 1919 and concluded on July 24th, 1923 when the Treaty of Lausanne was signed. The war arose because the western Allies, particularly British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, had promised Greece territorial gains at the expense of the Ottoman Empire if Greece entered the war on the Allied side. When Mustafa Kemal, the hero of Çanakkale, was appointed to oversee the demobilisation of remaining Ottoman military units and nationalist organizations he thought it in the National interest to resist the partitioning of Asia Minor, mobilised the army units at his disposal, obtained foreign aid. On 9th September, 1922 the last Greek forces occupying Smyra, (Izmir), departed Turkish shores in some disarray and discomfort.

Stephen Bray writes in a stream of consciousness, but sometimes is a good read . . .