On Wednesday, we had a meeting in Ankara. I returned to my home at around 01.00 a.m. On Thursday, we laid Hülya Odabaşı, - May she rest in peace- to rest in Çankırı province’s Yapraklı district. I woke up at 4.00 a.m. and drove for 1,100 kilometers. It was 01.00 a.m. when I returned home. A busy schedule was awaiting me the next day since I was out of office for two days. On Friday, I finished my work at around 10.00 p.m.
Some news about a blockade of the bridges across the Bosphorus was circulating in social media. I did not regard a military intervention as possible at first. While waiting in the traffic jam, I shared some light-hearted tweets to dispel the dark rumors. Meanwhile, the news reporting that the Atatürk Airport was closed began to spread on social media. When I saw the planes taking off, I did not feel an urge to head to the airport. Also, I was looking forward to seeing my family since I was away from home for two days. Metrobuses kept passing me by. However, while approaching Florya neighborhood, I noticed that the metrobuses were not operating anymore.
When Küçükçekmece Lake came into my view, I saw that all the metrobuses were stopped. People poured into the E-5 Highway. I invited a woman and her two kids to my car. Meanwhile, a man heading to Avcılar district sat in the front seat of the car. I asked them why they got off the metrobus. An officer had told them that the metrobuses would not be operating anymore. I then realized that we were confronting a serious problem. I told them that everything would be alright to prevent them from panicking.
I was again alone in my car at the M. Kemal Paşa stop. The traffic had come to a stop ahead of me. The road was blocked. Fortunately I was at the entrance of the side road. I followed the cars ahead of me by turning into the opposite direction. While I was around Esenyurt, I saw long queues before the ATMs and people carrying water barrels. Meanwhile, my sibling called me to ask what was happening, I told him to pray. No one appeared to be showing any reaction. Then, I remembered the flags in my car trunk that were left from the Yenikapı rallies. I stopped the car and started waving a flag. With the flag in my left hand and my right hand at the wheel, I arrived in Beylikdüzü through the TUYAP road. I saw long queues again in front of the gas stations in Beylikdüzü. By then, I had already begun honking the horn of the car while driving.
Meanwhile, I tweeted, “Is there anyone joining the convoy?” to check people’s responses. Some of my friends called me and asked me to pick them up. However, my first concern was to arrive home as soon as possible. While driving randomly along the streets since I only recently moved to that neighborhood, an elderly man called out to me, saying “Senin Allah’ına kurban” (Thank God for you, my son!). This filled my soul with hope. Then I realized that the mustached man who asked “Where are we meeting up?” was my close friend Abdullah Doğan. I invited him to my car and headed home.
My wife and child were asleep when I got home. I woke my wife up. Meanwhile my child also woke up from the sounds. I left most of the money I had at home and took to the streets sensing that the time for resistance had come. Voices of car horns could be slightly heard when I first went out. Listening to the words of our leader, we headed to the airport. When we entered the E-5 Highway, everyone was honking their car horns. It looked as if the entire city was pouring into the airport. Meanwhile, I noticed a luxury car signaling with its headlights. I was about to stop it and ask who they were, but then I saw that they were making Rabia signs with their hands, so I gave way to the car. On our way ahead, an armored vehicle full of civilians passed along the metrobus tracks. There was no turning back now; we entered the metrobus track from an opening ahead. Traffic was heavy on the E-5 Highway. While we were thinking that metrobuses must be running, now we were moving in the opposite direction with thousands of other vehicles. Meanwhile, the esteemed Taceddin Kutay was also in our car. With a difficulty, we arrived at the intersection of the airport. We left the car on the highway and walked to the entrance gate.
A great part of the job had already been completed. People hearing about the coup attempt and listening to the words of President Erdoğan came to the airport to provide security. The airport, where usually an elite aura is prevalent except for the pilgrims, had been turned into a rally arena. We did our share of duty and guarded democracy until the first lights of the morning. In particular, the passage of war jets was unbelievable. We thought for a moment that we were dead, but it was actually a sonic boom. Meanwhile, the plane of the president securely landed in Istanbul without our notice.
After performing my morning prayer, I stopped by a place near the airport to have some soup. The people running the place were talking about how war jets might bomb the restaurant. My telephone’s battery ran out, dawn broke, and my eyelids got heavier. After taking a nap on the lawn, I left the airport with Abdullah to gather some strength. As is already known, the rest of the story continued in Taksim and Saraçhane.
While I was assuming that waving flags while driving would mark a heroic stance, I heard the next day about those who were martyred, who blocked tanks with their cars, and who stood up against weapons. God rest their souls. As the Turkish nation, we are grateful to them.
