Our worldwide writer from Urla, Necati Cumalı, who was only five years old when Atatürk came to Urla, describes this happy day as follows:
Our worldwide writer from Urla, Necati Cumalı, who was only five years old when Atatürk came to Urla, describes this happy day as follows:
“At last the day has come, the houses are decorated with flags. It was the year 1926. I was five years old. I don't remember if it was during the long, warm autumn months of Urla or the early spring, I just remember a clear sunny day…
“At last the day has come, the houses are decorated with flags. It was the year 1926. I was five years old. I don't remember if it was during the long, warm autumn months of Urla or the early spring, I just remember a clear sunny day…
I reached the Republic Area with small steps. Urla people, men and women, surrounded the area. I mingled with the feet of those who were lined up on the sidewalk against the Izmir entrance of the area. The eyes of the men were fixed on the entrance of Izmir.
I reached the Republic Area with small steps. Urla people, men and women, surrounded the area. I mingled with the feet of those who were lined up on the sidewalk against the Izmir entrance of the area. The eyes of the men were fixed on the entrance of Izmir.
'Then, amid applause, livelihoods, and tears, Gazi Mustafa Kemal Ataurk appeared. Somehow, I broke away from the feet of those mountain-like men standing above my head. I ran across the field. I opened my arms and rushed towards Atatürk. While greeting the people, Mustafa Kemal Pasha stopped the guards with his hand holding his hat on his chest, "Let go," he said. He asked my name and whose son I was. My dialect was broken. It was a Rumelian dialect. He smiled as he listened to my response. He stroked my hair. He asked if they knew my father; to the people of Urla who welcomed him. They recognized. He ordered them to take me to my house. On the way home, Bekir Brother was proud to carry me in his arms. I was the boy who greeted Atatürk at the entrance of Urla.`
'Then, amid applause, livelihoods, and tears, Gazi Mustafa Kemal Ataurk appeared. Somehow, I broke away from the feet of those mountain-like men standing above my head. I ran across the field. I opened my arms and rushed towards Atatürk. While greeting the people, Mustafa Kemal Pasha stopped the guards with his hand holding his hat on his chest, "Let go," he said. He asked my name and whose son I was. My dialect was broken. It was a Rumelian dialect. He smiled as he listened to my response. He stroked my hair. He asked if they knew my father; to the people of Urla who welcomed him. They recognized. He ordered them to take me to my house. On the way home, Bekir Brother was proud to carry me in his arms. I was the boy who greeted Atatürk at the entrance of Urla.`