Prof. Dr. Yusuf Ziyâ Binatli

(Translated from the book, Anilarla Mehmed Zahid Kotku (RhA) Hazretleri, by Dr. Metin Erkaya, Istanbul: Seha, 1996, pp. 115-125)

Dear Audience!

I have the lowest rank among you who had a relationship with Mehmed Zahid Kotku Rahmatullahi Alayh and received spiritual guidance from him. I did not have the honor of becoming one of his disciples, nor did I attend his discourses. I was not a member of his congregation in this mosque, either. Yet, I am proud of being one of the first persons, not only among you but also in Turkey, who saw him in his youth.

I had the honor of being in Istanbul with him when he was a young soldier. He was 12 or 13 years older than I was. While he was assigned at a military police unit office, I used to live in the quarters allocated for the shaikhs of the Gumush-khanewi Dargah under the "wings" of my father, Shaikh Omar Ziyâuddîn ad-Daghistani. Mehmed Effendi was a disciple of my father when I had the honor of meeting him.

Mehmed Effendi Rahmetullahi Aleyh was a young soldier initiated into the tariqa by my father. He was the only person wearing a military uniform and not wearing a turban. He used to come to the tekke with his military hat and jacket. My father requested permission from the young soldier’s supervisors to let him attend daily prayers in the dargah. He would climb up the minaret of the Fatma Sultan Mosque and recite adhan. He would also have meals in the tekke. It was during those times that I, as an adolescent, had the honor of meeting him.

My father was of advanced age. As he walked from our residence to the tekke, one of his disciples would come and help him walk. One who offered the most help was this young soldier, Rahmetullahi Aleyh. He would come to the door, wait there without knocking at the door or making any noise, and hold my father by his arm. If my father had the strength to walk by himself, the young man would walk after my father with perfect manners until my father reached his destination.

During the time my father was the shaikh of the dargah, he would lecture time to time. My father was a professor of Khilâfiyyat; he taught Hadith and Khilâfiyyat at the Madrasatul Mutehassisîn. When he was too weak to go to the lecture hall, his students would come to our residence and attend lectures there.

I must point out the fact that the students of the Madrasatul Mutehassisîn, to my youthful viewpoint, were grown-up, middle-aged people. They appeared to be 30-35 years old; they all had beards and turbans. Mehmed Zahid Kotku Rahmetullahi Aleyh was the youngest among them, and he had no beard. The Madrasatul Mutehassisîn was a graduate school. Although Mehmed Zahid Kotku Rahmetullahi Aleyh did not have the formal education at the graduate level, he would attend the lectures among the graduate students.

Mehmed Zahid Kotku rahmetullahi Aleyh was quite slender. This fact bothered the cook of the tekke, Hafiz Emin. When he prepared rice with meat, he would cover the pieces of meat with rice on a large tray and place it on the table such a way that Mehmed Zahid Efendi would get the meat. The cook wanted Mehmed Zahid Efendi to eat the meat and become stronger. Yet when Mehmed Zahid Efendi realized that there was meat under the rice, he would feel embarrassed and turn the tray so that other people at the table would get the meat. The cook and I used to play this game repeatedly.

Hafiz Emin Efendi sometimes questioned him: "Mehmed Efendi! I put some meat for you on the tray, why didn't you take it?" He would drop his head and respond: "Let everybody eat his portion; Almighty Allah gives me my portion. I could not accept any special treatment from Hafiz Emin Effendi."

Sometimes I would request him take me to the minaret so I would call for the prayer. He took me to the minaret several times. To the right of the minaret’s qibla side was a facing window of the residence of Mustafa Feyzi Efendi, who had become the shaikh of the tekke after my father died in 1921. When we were up in the minaret, Mehmed Effendi would ask me to duck so that Shaikh Effendi would not see me there. We would then walk down the minaret after he recited the adhan. I very much enjoyed the great vista looking out in all directions from the minaret.

Once I asked Mehmed Effendi, "Let me call the adhan!" He said, "All right." That time he ducked in the minaret. I started, "Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar!" The Shaikh Effendi noticed me through his window and asked: "What are you doing?" I responded, "I am calling the adhan!"

He asked, "Have you become 'aqil baligh [sane and mature to be responsible for carrying out religious duties]?"

I said, "Yes, I have!" but I had no idea what those words meant. If he had asked in a negative question form, my response would have been "No, I haven't."

He said, "All right, then. Go ahead." When I completed the adhan, I looked at Mehmed Effendi: he was trembling.

We had good memories. Then time passed, and the tekkes were closed down. I lost contact with Mehmed Effendi. Later, the tekke had no congregation. The imam of the Fatma Sultan Mosque, Khawaja Khayri Effendi, was appointed to some place else. The Awqaf administration sold the tekke building. The Fatma Sultan Mosque became an abandoned place.

I am sure the young people among us must have heard of the Fatma Sultan Mosque, but they would not know much about it. I would like to briefly comment on it.

Fatma Sultan was the daughter of Ahmed III, the Ottoman Sultan. She was born in 1704 and in 1709 Ahmed III gave her hand in marriage to Silahtar Ali Pasha. There was a grand celebration lasting forty days and nights for the wedding. Of course she was only five years old and it was a symbolic marriage.

Unfortunately, Fatma Sultan’s husband died in 1716 during a battle between Austria and the Ottomans. When she was twelve, her father arranged for her to marry Damad Ibrahim Pasha. She had a decent life afterwards.

Sultan Ahmed III had a mosque built across from Bâb-i Ali for his daughter Fatma Sultan. At that time, Bâb-i Ali was the mansion of Damad Ibrahim Pasha. Damad Ibrahim also had a palace built for Fatma Sultan in the same neighborhood which is used as an archives building today.

The Fatma Sultan Mosque was built in 1727. Three years later the Patrona Halil rebellion occurred. Sultan Ahmed III was removed from the throne, and Damad Ibrahim was killed. Fatma Sultan's belongings were taken away. She died in grief and poverty.

There are also reports that the Ottoman sultan who sat on the throne after Ahmed III had Fatma Sultan thrown into the Marmara Sea upon receiving an intelligence report that she was instrumental in a rebel that took place in Albania. She had such a sad story.

The reason I bring this up is that we often offered prayers for Fatma Sultan. The muadh-dhin would request the congregation to recite surah Fatiha for her after each daily prayer.

Well, the Fatma Sultan Mosque was demolished to build the Istanbul tax office on its grounds. Interestingly, not even one square foot of the ground belonging to the mosque and the premises went under the tax building. They demolished the mosque and the Gumush-khanewi Dargah for nothing. Later they wanted to construct a building there, but they could not. Perhaps it is the deep spirituality of Ahmed Ziyauddin Gumush-khanewi Effendi that prevented it. Today the site is an empty lot.

Nowadays, Fatma Sultan is not remembered in prayers. I am the only living member of the congregation of the Fatma Sultan Mosque. Whenever I offer prayers, I remember Fatma Sultan. I send a Surah Fatiha for her after every daily prayer. I would like to continue doing it until my last breath.

This Dargah [Iskenderpasha] is the continuation of the Gumush-khanewi Dargah. I witnessed the same excitement here while doing the Khatm-e Khawajagan that I used to experience in the Gumush-khanewi Dargah. It gave me goose bumps. Hundreds of people in the congregation here have listened to the personages who spoke before I did. They all were quiet, attentive and enlightened. How nice it is that all remained attentive despite the length of the speeches. This is the ideal youth! This younger generation is going to elevate this country with faith.

It is my desire that the congregation here recite Fatihas for the spirit of Fatma Sultan.

After I became a judge, I saw Shaikh Mehmed Zahid Kotku Effendi once. I visited him when he was the imam of Uftâde mosque in Bursa. I have told you about my childhood in 1924-1926; now I am talking about the years 1949-1950. During the intervening time I had grown up and become a judge and, of course, my appearance had changed significantly.

The Uftâde mosque is located at a place difficult to reach by a car. Nevertheless, I arrived at the mosque and headed to his quarter. I asked, "Is Khawaja Effendi here?"

He was reading while seated. He lifted his head and said, "Oh My Prince, welcome!"

Despite the years and significant changes in my appearance, he recognized me right away. I grabbed his hand and kissed it. He hugged me. That was the last time I saw him.

As required by my profession, I worked in various parts of the country; I also worked abroad. I returned to Turkey, yet I never had the chance to meet him again.

Dear Friends! I am sure some of you met Shaikh Mehmed Effendi and benefited from his spirituality. Perhaps some of you never met him. Yet it does not really matter, for his successors are pointing you along his path. His path was the path of Islam. It is the path of Truth, truthfulness, and good manners. Remember what our beloved Prophet said: "I have been sent to teach you good manners."

Let me tell you one more thing about Khawaja Effendi. Everybody talked about him as a patient person. He was famous for his patience. Well, I was not at an age to comprehend what it really meant. Besides, I was learning Turkish when I met him because we had just returned from Egypt and I would speak Arabic. I was having problems speaking Turkish. [Along this line,] he used to tell pleasant jokes regarding different situations. Everybody would enjoy them and tell other people: "Mehmed Effendi said this, Mehmed Effendi said that..." I could not understand his jokes.

But later on I would hear about him: "He is a very patient person!"

I never knew why he was considered patient. Was it because he was a soldier? Was he patient in his relationships with his officers in the military? I never knew the reason. The one thing I would repeatedly hear was that he was a very patient person.

His patience has left an indelible effect on me even when I was a child. I grew up hearing the words how patient he was. Since he and my father had origins in Caucuses, there was an additional bond between them. My father treated him with special favor and saw him often. He would come to our residence often. We had a good relationship.

I recommend patience to my young brothers present here. You must have patience and perseverance to invite a disbeliever to Islam. You should not scare off people. You can accomplish everything with patience.

I am pleased to see so many young people attending this meeting. I am proud of your attentiveness. This country will advance on your shoulders.

I thank you for listening to me. I also thank [Mahmud Es'ad Cosan] Khawaja Effendi for inviting me for the meeting. May Almighty Allah be pleased with you all.

November 13, 1993 -- Iskenderpasha/ ISTANBUL