Tarik Chouseinoglou was born in Thessaloniki around 1899, at the turn of the century, in a house with red bricks and a large garden in the narrow streets of Ano Poli. They named him Tarik, meaning “morning star,” as he was born at dawn when only the Evening Star remained in the sky. His father, Emir Huseinoglou, worked at the Ottoman Bank of Thessaloniki, while his mother, Aishe, taught piano to the young ladies of the neighborhood. During walks with his friends who lived nearby, they often ventured as far as Yedi Kule, where they would stop to watch the prisoners and place bets on the crimes that had cost them their freedom. The group was full of mischief, and one of their favorite games was to hide behind fountains and scare women and girls as they filled their water jugs. Emir, as a respected Muslim, participated in the Anti-Bulgarian Rally of 1904, and Tarik remembered the adults’ discussions outside Saatli Mosque (which was completely destroyed in the 1917 fire) as they organized to support their Christian fellow citizens in opposing the Bulgarian presence in the city in 1908.
At the age of 12, Tarik accompanied his parents to a reception in honor of Sultan Mehmet during his visit to Thessaloniki in 1911. He attended the School of Progress on Kassandrou Street until 1912, when the First Balkan War began.
His father left for the front, and Tarik wrote letters to him about the sea and the airplanes, the bombs, and the terrifying creature, the Zeppelin, which turned out not to be a monster but a giant balloon that brave soldiers shot down. They displayed it in front of the White Tower, and Tarik managed to get a piece of it to show his father when he returned.
Emir returned after Thessaloniki’s liberation in October, ill, and died shortly after. Tarik’s mother, Aishe, also fell ill and passed away in 1914 at the Municipal Hospital, now the Agios Dimitrios Hospital. Tarik, now an orphan, was taken in by his uncle, Osman Huseinoglou, and his wife, Nese. Osman worked at the Islahane (an orphanage and vocational school), and with effort, managed to get Tarik admitted there, where he completed his education and learned the art of printing.
The great fire of 1917 found Tarik, at 18 years old, working at the Yeni Asir newspaper, housed in the Islahane, and living with his aunt and uncle. On a walk, he met beautiful Dilek, a young Muslim nurse at the Municipal Hospital.
In 1923, during the population exchanges following the Treaty of Lausanne, Osman and Tarik returned home to find Nese packing their belongings and holding a newspaper with instructions for those being relocated. The next day, Tarik ran to Dilek’s parents to ask for her hand in marriage, and they agreed. The couple went to the mufti’s office at the Islahane for vaccinations, while the orphanage children waved goodbye to Tarik, who wondered where so many orphans would end up.
Osman and Nese decided to move to Antalya, where Nese’s family lived, and Tarik and Dilek followed. The early years were challenging for the young couple, but soon they had three children—Kerem, Osman, and Hilal—who grew up hearing stories and tales about beautiful Thessaloniki, wishing to see it one day.
When war broke out, Tarik received news of his city with delay, celebrating Greek victories on the Albanian front, despairing over the Nazi occupation, and horrified by the destruction of the Jewish cemetery and the uprooting of the entire Jewish community.
Years passed, the children grew up and started families of their own, and Osman and Nese had long since passed away. The time had come for a short return. In 1965, Tarik and Dilek, with their children and older grandchildren, traveled to Thessaloniki for the International Fair.
One morning, Tarik’s steps led him to the Islahane. Holding the hand of little Tarik, his 6-year-old grandson, he stood still. The elder Tarik looked ahead to where the courtyard once was, to where the printing house once stood, to where he had once seen Dilek approaching.
The young boy looked down, brushing his shoe against a carved stone on the sidewalk, unable to understand its patterns. “Grandpa, what does this say?” he asked, looking up, startled by the tears on his grandfather’s face. “Grandpa, why are you crying?”
Tarik knelt and touched the stone. “I’ll tell you a story then—the story of Thessaloniki…”