Until I was eight years old, I had never heard the word “dawn”. Then, early one morning, I woke up to the radio playing loudly in the living room, and found my mother and father chain-smoking as they listened to the declaration of a coup. Their faces darkened as the day broke. It was 12 September 1980, the first time I saw the dawn.
On 16 July, early in the morning, Turkish children were woken by the television to find their similarly terrified parents.
M and C, eight and six years old, are my half-American nephews, my brother’s sons.