Years later I was studying medicine when I went to see the movie “Dersu Uzula” starring A. Kurosava that was playing in the Çinar cinema in Izmir Konak. In one scene, Dersu and Yüzbaşı are leaving a shack in a field where they had spent the night and Dersu does the same thing we did when we were kids. Knowing that at some point strangers would need the matches and a pinch of salt, he hid them in the shack. Watching that film I was reminded of our common humanity.

The prosecutor was right. “He would have made it if he had matches.” That was true.

“No need for a classic autopsy. The cause of death is clear,” I said, and this pleased both the prosecutor and Kamber’s poor father. We quickly signed the official reports. Slowly I asked the autopsy technician if the road to Ankara was open. I might be able to go if we get back in good time.

We left Kamber’s little naked body stretched out over the snow and his father, shouldering the bag that held his son’s simple clothes. He looked strangely resigned as he wrapped his son in a blanket and took him away without saying a word.

My brothers.

I know those beautiful days of my childhood when I wandered fearlessly and without a care in my heart and full of the scent of evening primrose flowers are far behind me now. I have been tainted enough.

Now my neighbor’s door is closed and locked. No longer can I freely swing by whenever I’m eager to gobble up some bread or raisins. I have lost the taste of watermelon and white cheese we would eat from a long table on summer nights.

Now whenever I pay a secret visit to the old stone house where I was born, I lean up against a wall and gently cry. It is now a concrete block. I used to lie under wild apricot trees in the village vineyard, losing myself in strange dreams, but those trees have withered.

But is the idea of keeping matches and a pinch of salt for others nothing but an empty dream? In this world going up in smoke, an accursed world whose taste is no longer on our tongues?

Do you know that this earth is a great dinner table and that everyone can benefit from it?

Is it so difficult to willingly set aside a single match and some salt without expecting anything in return, tuck them into a crevice in a rock?

Instead of consuming everything we could take only what we need and leave what is left for those who come after us … Is it really that hard to do?

Come along and put a pinch of salt and a few matches in your pocket and let’s hit the road.

Come along as we shed tears for the world and for ourselves.