The people of the village also were aware of that the booming sound of the turbo motor of “ Lamborghini” of Abisalam returning from one of the restaurants at the seashore, at midnight woke the director of the school who was accustomed to go to bed early and get up early. Since the day Abisalam returned to the village, the director couldn’t sleep at nights. The school director was waiting impatiently the day on which Abisalam would return to the country in the north.
Then Unal was sitting on the thick bough of the mulberry tree and looking at the villa of Abisalam, thinking how nice villa it was. Abisalam’ s “ Lamborghini” was nice too. Unal thought that Abisalam had everything. “ But…no, – “ Unal said to himself: ” Abisalam hasn’t a lover like Paknur.”
The laughter of his sisters and brothers dispersed Unal’s thoughts, parting with his dreams he again returned to his yards. His parents, sisters and brothers were picking black raspberries from the bushes in the behind of the yard. There was smiling on their faces. It wasn’t a joke. This time they were picking black raspberries with great pleasure. After selling the bucketful of raspberries his parents would buy him a nice white shirt, black trousers and shining shoes, for him to put on the next day in the ceremony of the last bell ringing. Unal wondered what his lover Unal would tell seeing him in the new clothes.
His father took two buckets of black raspberries, went out of the gate, put the buckets at the gate in one side of the road. Unal’s mother said to him: “ Why not to take the buckets of raspberries to the bazaar situated at the end of the village, we can sell the blackberry much expensive there.”
Recently, some of their fellow-villagers took buckets of black raspberries to the end of the village, sold in the place which looked like a small bazaar. They didn’t put the buckets at their gates and waited for hours to sell.
But each time when Unal’s mother wanted to go there for to sell raspberries, father worried, he was against to go there and sell raspberry there. He used to say that they could sell at the gate too.
But this time Unal’s mother insisted on going to the small bazaar situated at the end of the village. Because he was afraid that might be they couldn’t sell the raspberries, and wouldn’t buy new clothes for Unal. Mother said: “ If we can’t sell raspberries we can’t buy new dresses. I can’t send my son to the ceremony of the last bell ringing dressed shabby clothes. Soon, Unal is going to enter the institute. Why don’t you want the raspberries to be sold? I wonder are all the people gathering there, mad? “