I was born in Bursa, one of the major cities in Turkiye, located close to Istanbul, about a two-hour drive away. I was the first child in my family.
During my early years, my grandfather, who was an olive merchant, had a store in Bursa where he sold olives. He also owned olive trees outside the city. Whenever we visited his store, he would give us small allowances. He even bought me my first English learning package, which I am extremely grateful for. My grandparents had separated when we were young, and they both remarried.
My grandmother, who migrated from the eastern part of Turkey to Bursa as a child, was a housewife and loved spending time with us, her grandchildren. My father didn’t want a television at home because he believed it would be distracting, so we often went to my grandmother’s house to watch TV, where she would cook us delicious meals like spinach pancakes and potato balls.
On my mother’s side, both her parents were farmers, living about 60 miles outside of Bursa. They had various animals such as cows, sheep, horses, chickens, ducks, and grew crops like corn and tomatoes. Her father was also a prominent figure in their small village. We used to love visiting the farm during the summer and spending time with the animals. My grandfather taught us how to be a shepherd for the cows and sometimes sheep, although we weren’t particularly skilled at handling the animals since we often played around instead of paying attention.
When my mother got married, she didn’t want to continue the farm life, so she was happy to move to the city. I was born when she was very young, and my parents were not financially well-off. We lived in a small home in Bursa. When I was around 18 months old, I fell seriously ill. I became weak, skinny, and had trouble eating, often vomiting after every attempt. Eventually, I started losing my hair and nails. Doctors gave my parents little hope, except for one doctor named Ali who advised my mother to keep feeding me no matter how much I vomited. My dad diligently took me to the hospital every day for my shots, despite not having a car or a stroller. Miraculously, I started balding and losing my nails, but then I began regrowing them and gaining weight by the time I was 2.5 years old.
Around the age of 6 or 7, I began gaining more weight. Kids in the neighborhood would make fun of me for being fat. During those years, I also struggled with serious constipation, often holding it in for days or even weeks, which led to frequent accidents.
When I started elementary school at the age of 7, I realized that I was not as academically bright as some of my classmates. I was one of the last students in the whole class to learn how to read. I often felt scared to go to school, hiding behind other students to avoid the teacher’s attention. I was terrified of the teacher, as they would physically discipline students who didn’t know the answers. Additionally, one of my close friends in the neighborhood constantly bullied me. Overall, those years were not particularly enjoyable for me.
During the summer after the fourth grade, my family moved to a different neighborhood in Bursa. I had a new school, new friends, and a new teacher. It was a refreshing change, as my new teacher who was a very kind woman. Within a couple of months, I excelled academically and became one of the top students in the class. It was the first time I genuinely enjoyed going to school and felt free from fear. I started reading extensively and studying diligently. At the end of fifth grade, I received an excellent report card and felt incredibly sad saying goodbye to my teacher during the graduation ceremony, even shedding tears.
Although my parents didn’t have much formal education, my father always emphasized the importance of obtaining a good education and learning how to make money at a young age. My grandfather, who was an olive merchant, instilled the value of hard work in our family. So, when I was in the third grade, I expressed my desire to make my own money. My father suggested that I could sell simits like many other boys on the street. Despite feeling nervous and scared at first, I became excited about the idea. On the weekend, my dad gave me 10 TL (Turkish Lira), and my mom provided me with a circular tray from the kitchen. I went to the bakery, bought 10 simits with the money, and sold 8 of them to random people on the streets and in shops for 2 TL each. I returned home and sold the remaining 2 simits to my parents, earning a total of 20 TL. I paid back the initial 10 TL to my dad. It was the first time I earned money entirely by myself, and I fell in love with the process of selling and making money. Over the years, I taught my brothers how to sell as well. Together or separately, we sold various items like pens, wooden spoons, watches, silver rings, socks, t-shirts, jackets, and coats on the streets. Although we didn’t make a significant amount of money since we only did it on weekends or during the summer, we enjoyed every moment of it.
At the age of 12, I chose to attend an all-boys boarding school, where I stayed for seven years until my final year of high school. I made this decision because home life was boring and my father was strict. The boarding school was free for all students and operated through public donations. It wasn’t a luxurious place, and most of the students came from low-income backgrounds. It resembled an orphanage for teenagers, but I enjoyed it because I had many friends around me. It was also close to home, around a 30-minute car ride, so I could visit my parents and brothers whenever I wanted. During the summers, I would either attend a camp organized by the school or work in my father’s small factory, which I mostly disliked. The physically demanding job involved wearing greasy uniforms and working with metal and oil. It made me appreciate school or office settings where the work was much lighter.
After finishing high school, I was 18 and working at my father’s factory for the summer, as I had done in previous years. I had already been accepted to college in Istanbul, but my father wanted me to stay in Bursa, retake the exam the following year, and attend a college closer to home. However, I wanted to leave and live my own life.
One September morning, my father had already left for work, and I was getting ready to go as well. I told my mother that I was leaving them and moving to Istanbul that day. She was shocked but recognized my determination. She advised me to say goodbye to my dad and ask him for some money, but I refused. I didn’t have a good relationship with my father, and I had too much pride to ask him for anything. I left home wearing old jeans, a t-shirt, and slippers, without any money or luggage, unsure of where I would stay. I only knew a few friends from my boarding school who were already studying in Istanbul, and I hoped to stay with them for a couple of weeks until I found my own place. Despite feeling excited and nervous, I firmly believed that from that day onward, I would make my own choices without anyone else to credit or blame.
In college, I pursued a degree in marketing research and advertising, which I greatly enjoyed. It was a new experience for me to have girls in the classrooms, as I had never interacted with them before. I relished attending classes and making friends with female classmates. However, due to my financial constraints, I had to find a job and work continuously, which caused me to miss many classes. While I could have asked my father for money or sought grants from religious or non-profit foundations like many other students, I chose not to.
5/27/2023 – Re-written by ai
I was born in Bursa, one of the big cities in Turkiye, close to Istanbul, two hours by car, I was the first child in the family.
My dad’s father was an olive merchant in Bursa, he had a store and selling olives around ground bazaar in Bursa, he also had some olive trees of his own outside of the city. He had blue eyes and was a hardworking man. Anytime we stopped by his store, he used to give us small allowances. He also bought my first English learning package set, which I am very grateful for. My grandad and grand-mom were separated when we were little. they both remarried to different people.
My grand-mom was migrated from the east of Turkiye to Bursa when she was a child, she was a housewife and she loved to spend time with us (her grandchildren). My dad did not like to have a TV at home due to it’s distractions, so we constantly went to my grandmother’s home to watch TV and she cooked us really delicious meals. My favorites were spinach pancake and potato balls.
Both my mom’s parents were farmers, about 60 miles outside of Bursa, they had a lot of animals like cows, sheep, horses, chickens, ducks and produce like corn, tomatoes and more. Her dad was also prominent member in his small village, they were second generation immigrants from eastern Europe, the Balkans. As kids, we used to love going to the farm during summertime and spending time with animals. My granddad thought us how to be a shepherd for cows and sometimes sheep too. We were not very good at handling animals, since we always played around instead of paying attention, but sure we had a lot of fun.
When my mom got married she didn’t want to live the farm life anymore, so she was happy to move to the city. When I was born, she was very young. My dad had his own small business, my mom was a housewife, they were poor. They lived in a small home in Bursa. When I was 18 month old, I got seriously sick, my body became very weak and I got skinny, I was not eating at all or vomiting after anytime I try to eat, eventually I started balding and loosing my nails. They took me to different doctors, they told my parents that there is no hope and they should be prepared for my death, except one doctor, (Ali doktor) he told my mom to keep feeding me no matter how many times I puke, so she did. My dad also kept taking me to the hospital everyday for my shots. He did not have a car, or a stroller, he walked a couple of kilometers before and after work. Seems like it worked, eventually I lost all my hair and nails then started grow new hair, nails, and gaining weight at the age of 2.5.
At the age of 6-7, I started gaining more weight. I remember kids in the neighborhood making fun of me because I was fat. In those years I also had a very serious constipation issue, don’t remember exactly when it started, but I was holding and trying to not to go to the bathroom, for days sometimes weeks, and having accidents constantly.
When I started the elementary school, I was 7 years old, which was a normal time since there was no kindergarten in those days. Couple of weeks after I started, I realized that I was not very bright, I was one of the last students to learn how to read in whole classroom. Most of the time I was scared to go to the school, hiding behind other students in the classroom so the teacher would not see me and ask me any questions. I was terrified of the teacher too, if you didn’t know the answer he would slap your hand or face or pull your ear, which was acceptable in those days. One of my close friends in the neighborhood was also bullying me constantly so I remember those years as not so fun.
The summer after 4th grade, we moved to a different neighborhood in Bursa. I had a new school, new friends and a new teacher. I was happy, she was also very different than my old teacher, she was kind, she would forgive if you made a mistake, and within a couple of months surprisingly I excelled and became one of the best students in the classroom. I started enjoying going to school for the first time, no more fears. I started reading a lot, studying, It was amazing, never felt like that about school before. At the end of the fifth grade, I had a very good report card and I was very sad to say goodbye to my teacher and cried like baby during the graduation ceremony.
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Even though my parents were not schooled, my dad always encouraged us to get a good education and learn how to make money at early age. My grandfather (dad’s dad) was an olive merchant, he had an olive and olive oil shop in the city, also had olive trees in a field of his own out of town. He believed in working very hard. So did my dad and his brother. Making money was always one of the main topics in family conversations. When I was on 3rd grade, I told my parents that I want to make my own money, my dad told me that I can perhaps sell simits like many other poor boys on the street, first I got nervous and scared, then I liked the idea and wanted to try. It was the weekend, I got up early very excited, my dad landed me 10 TL and my mom landed me the circle tray from the kitchen. I went to the bakery and bought 10 simits with 10 TL, a couple of hours later I sold 8 simits to random people on the streets or in their shops, 2 TL each, I went back home and sold my parents the remaining 2 simits, now I had 20 TL in my pocket. I paid the initial 10 TL back to my dad. I earned my own money for the first time all by myself. I also fell in love with the process of selling, talking people on the streets and making money. Following years, I taught my brothers how to sell, for many years sometimes together, sometimes separately we sold random stuff like, pens, wooden spoons, watches, silver rings, socks, t-shirts, jackets, coats, etc, all on the streets. We didn’t make a lot of money since we were only doing it on the weekends or during the summer time, but we enjoyed every bit of it.
When I was 12, I went to all-boys boarding school, stayed there for seven years until the last year of high school. This was my choice since home was boring and my dad was strict. The boarding school was free for all students, it was operated with public donations, the place was not fancy, almost all students were poor, the place would remind you an orphanage for teens, but it was mostly fun for me because I was surrounded by lots of friends, it also was close to home, like 30 minutes by car, so I was able to visit my parents and brothers anytime I wanted. During the summers, I either went to a camp of the school or worked in my dad’s small factory which I mostly hated. It was a difficult job physically, we had to wear greasy work uniforms, we were constantly working with metal and oil. This heavy job always made me appreciate the school or the office settings.
The high school was over, I was 18 and working in my dad’s place for the summer as usual. I was already accepted for college in Istanbul but my dad didn’t want me to leave, instead he wanted me to stay in my hometown Bursa and re-take the exam next year and go to a different college close to home. But I didn’t want that, I just wanted to leave and live my life.
It was the third week of September and my college was already started a week ago. It was bothering me that I could’ve been in a classroom in a big campus with new friends, instead I was working at the job I hated which I was not getting paid either.
This is when my own story starts; that morning my father was already left for work and I was getting ready to go as well, I told my mom that I am leaving them and moving to Istanbul today, she was shocked but realized that I was dedicated, she told me to say good-bye to my dad and ask some money from him, I said no, since I didn’t get along with him and had too much pride to ask. I was wearing a pair of old jeans, a t-shirt and slippers, I left with no money, no luggage, not knowing where I will stay. I just knew some old friends from my boarding-school who were already studying in Istanbul and I was hoping to stay with them a couple of weeks until I find a place for myself. I was very excited and nervous, I believe that starting that day until today I made all my own choices and there’s no-one to give credit or to blame.
At college I studied marketing research and advertising which I liked a lot. There were girls in the classrooms which was a new thing for me. Until then I haven’t talked or hang out with a girl ever, so I enjoyed taking classes and having friends who are girls but because I did not have any money to support my school life I had to find a job and constantly had to work and missed many of the classes. I could’ve ask my dad some money or seek grants from religious or a non-profit foundations or institutions like many other students do, but I didn’t.
Serdar Acar 