Evilya Çelebi (III) — Seyhatnâme: Keligra Sultan
Description:
Derviş Mehmed Zilli (approx. 1611 – 1685) was best known by his pen name Evilya Çelebi, and originated from Constantine in the Ottoman Empire. He was an Ottoman Turkish explorer, renowned for his recording of over 40 years of exploration across the Black Sea region and beyond in his Seyahatnâme, or Book of Travels.
Excerpt:
(Legends of Keligra Sultan, i.e. Sarı Saltık)
This shrine of Keligra Sultan, where we were hosted after being delivered from the sea, is a lofty promontory that projects into the Black Sea like an elephant’s trunk. Ships from Istanbul going toward Kara Hırmen and Köstence and Kili take a bead on these Keligra cliffs, which rise up toward the sky and are visible from 150 miles away. Directly across the sea in an eastward direction in Anatolia is the Sinop Promontory, the distance between that and the Keligra cliffs being (—) miles. In very clear weather the mountains of Sinop are visible from Keligra, and the mountains of Keligra are visible from Sinop. At the very tip of the Keligra Promontory is a cave where Keligra Saltık Sultan is buried – that is where the dragon was stopped.17
The shrine itself is a large convent, founded by Dobruca Ali Muhtar. The saint’s wooden sword and sling, tambourine and drum, standards and banners are kept within. There are a variety of rooms, and a summer plaza and winter plaza furnished all around with immaculate sheepskins. On each sheepskin sits a spiritual master, excelling in knowledge and virtue. All are strict Sunnis, believers and monotheists, who perform the five daily prayers in their mosque. There are over 100 mystical lovers. Indeed, during my eight-month stay they studied Koran-recital with me according to the reading of Hafs.
The windows of this convent, and of the light-filled tomb, all face the sea. The kitchen of Kay Kavus is marvellous to behold. It has a suspended dome-shaped chimney. Cauldrons are over the fire continuously day and night, and food is dispensed freely to all comers and goers. The dervishes own no buildings or estates; their income is wholly derived from begging. The cooks have assistants, barefoot and bare-headed devotees, lively and stalwart fellows who burn with divine love and mystical devotion. Such a great convent it is.
To the left and right of the convent, at the top of the cliffs, are hundreds of well-mouths. The rock cliffs rise perpendicularly, like Mt Bisutun, but the bases are hollowed out, forming natural harbours. Ships with top-gallant masts a hundred cubits tall enter below the overarching cliffs and drop anchor. The ship captains buy wheat and barley from the peasants which they transport by cart and pour into the well-mouths at the top of the cliffs. The grain falls down the shafts into the holds of the ships waiting below until they are full. These shafts were excavated in ancient times by the infidels, digging like Farhad, in such a way that ships can dock next to them. It is a marvellous sight, peculiar to this region. For it is impossible to bring wheat and barley and other goods down to the ships in sacks; that would require men on foot to scramble like goats up and down the mountain paths, which are three or four hours away from the cliffs and harbours.
In the entire perimeter of the Black Sea, this is the only place with such lofty cliffs. The southwesterly gale and the south and east storm winds batter these rocks with a thunderous roar that can be heard in Aflatar and Alhanlar near Silistra, a full day’s journey away (about twenty miles). So lofty are these mountains, reaching up to the Milky Way. The cliffs house nests of peregrine and other falcons, also musky eagles the size of sheep. Some men in the convent make sacrifices and feed them to the eagles. If the eagles eat the sacrifice, the men’s wishes are granted, if not, not. At least that is what people say.
Explanation:
Ottoman traveler Evliya Çelebi’s Seyahatnâme (17th century) offers some of the earliest articulations of the Black Sea littoral space. His writing engages with the turbulent water as a framework for navigating encounters with the sublime and unknown, extensively contemplating the sea space as one of immense power, transformation, and risk. The littoral is a context, for Çelebi, that functions with profound conceptual force – that shapes and clarifies the space around it both spiritually and physically. It is a container of history, time, and the sublime, whilst totally refusing containment itself.