Looking back at my childhood, I do not recall many moments of excitement filled with joy and pride. Yet the ones I remember are so vivid that I do not believe they can be easily erased. When dwelling on those, I realize that each of them is linked to one specific persona. Subconsciously, I have attached the memory to them – probably my own way of defining them and their role in my life.
One particular memory stands out as a boring day in kindergarten – not like your modern-day ones but like grey, post-Soviet type with no functional or intact toys that might make a child happy – turned out to be an adventurous day in the life of a little one growing up in Baku. The day ended not with a habitual parent pick-up but with a pick-up by a man who would seldom emerge in my life back then. I called him Nadir Baba. Nadir was his name. Baba means grandfather in Azerbaijani. Growing up, I saw little of him but heard stories. He was constantly absent for the simple reason of working as a Mechanic on a ship, thus always in the open sea. Leaving for many moons which seemed like an eternity – especially if you are a bored child hungry for stories, Nadir Baba would visit us once or twice a year.
My grandfather was fascinating as he traveled to countries only a few traveled to back then both during the Soviet time and after. He had been to the places that no one else from our surroundings had been to. Baba has seen many people from many countries and experienced innumerable cultures. Hence, every encounter with him would turn into an immersion into one exciting experience. So was that day after kindergarten.
The ordinary day turned into an adventure as instead of usual park walks we headed to his workplace. My small world suddenly expanded as an enormity emerged in front of my eyes. As if facing this big giant was not enough, Nadir Baba took me on a walk inside the ship. He let me talk to the crew – other people who saw the world just like my grandfather and took a place behind the wheel. I even had the chance to see his room the name for it I will learn later on – cabin.
To this day, I remember that visit to Nadir Baba’s workplace so vividly, as if it happened yesterday. I remember the wooden panels on the walls of his cabin, the lingering sea scent, the neatly made bed and that round-shaped window – something that would fascinate me extremely. That event is the most precious one I ever had with him.
There is a reason for writing this recollection – its hero passed away two weeks ago – a man who traveled around the world, crossed all the oceans, passed the Bermuda Triangle three times and survived COVID-19 while in his 80s, was hit by a car outside of his house holding the bread he just bought.
His story ended in a way none of us could have expected. Seeing him just a month before, I never imagined it would be the last time. Not making it to his burial only made it harder to process his loss. The only way I could think of to cope was to commemorate him in my own way—by sharing one of the warmest childhood memories that defined him for me.
To the memory of Nadir Baba. Goodbye, Seafarer!
Leyla's Notes 