Doner Kebabs: A Reflection

As you guys know, before I (ZStrike) became a developer, I was a struggling artist while attending the university in Istanbul. Each day, I used to earn something like $5, which I would also spend on my food. But one day I got paid $20, and I gambled it all on red. I lost. I was hungry, the rain was intense, and my stomach was grumbling. I didn’t have money to return to my apartment. I went to the subway, and there was a guy selling doner kebabs, so I had to take this harsh step: I grabbed the doner kebabs and made a jump onto the train.

“That’s not how things work around here.”

With a heavy heart, I explained my situation—the desperation that had driven me to such lengths. To my surprise, his expression softened. He looked at me with a mix of pity and understanding. As the train lurched forward, I found myself amidst a sea of strangers, each lost in their own thoughts and oblivious to the turmoil in my life. The scent of the stolen doner kebab filled my nostrils, a stark reminder of my desperate act. My heart pounded with fear and guilt, but hunger overpowered any moral qualms I might have had.

“Son, we’ve all been down when times get tough,” he began, “but stealing isn’t the answer. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll buy you a meal, and maybe we can figure out something else for you.”

I followed him to a small café near the station, where he bought me a proper meal instead of the stolen doner kebab. The journey back to my apartment felt like an eternity. Every stop seemed to drag on forever, every face a potential judge ready to condemn me for my theft. Yet, no one noticed the young man clutching his meager prize, trying to stave off starvation. Over coffee, he shared stories of his own struggles and offered some advice.

“You’re smart; you’re young. There has to be another way to make ends meet without resorting to crime.”

Finally, the train pulled into my station. His words resonated with me. With a deep breath, I gathered what little dignity I had left and stepped out onto the platform. That night, under the dim light of the café, I realized that my actions were not just about survival but also about maintaining my integrity.

The New Resolve

The next morning, I woke up with a new resolve. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a cool mist that clung to the air. As I walked the familiar path to my apartment, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame wash over me. This wasn’t who I wanted to be—a thief, however minor the crime. I started looking for part-time jobs more diligently, and within weeks, I managed to find a position as a tutor for high school students.

The job wasn’t much, but it was enough to cover my basic needs and even save a little. Upon reaching my small room, I locked the door behind me and collapsed onto my bed. The doner kebab lay untouched on the table, its warmth already dissipating. In that moment, I realized that this cycle of poverty and desperation had to end. I needed to find a way to support myself without resorting to such acts again. It taught me discipline and responsibility. More importantly, it showed me that there were people willing to help if I reached out.

Years later, as ZStrike, I often think back to that fateful night in Istanbul. It was a turning point in my life, a reminder that no matter how dire the circumstances, there is always hope. And sometimes, all it takes is a kind stranger to nudge us back onto the right path.

Days turned into weeks, and I threw myself into my studies and art with renewed vigor. I began to network within the local art community, showcasing my work at small galleries and online platforms. Slowly but surely, people started to notice my talent. Commissions trickled in, then flowed steadily.

Coming Full Circle

One fateful evening, as I was setting up for an art exhibition, a man approached me. He introduced himself as Serkan, the owner of the doner kebab stand where I had committed my youthful indiscretion.

“I heard about your struggle,” he said with a kind smile. “And now look at you! You’ve made something of yourself.”

Now, as a developer, I try to pay it forward whenever I can. Whether it’s through open-source contributions or simply offering guidance to someone who reminds me of my younger self, I’m grateful for the lesson learned on that rainy night in Istanbul. His words were a balm to my conscience. It dawned on me that even in our darkest moments, we have the power to choose redemption and growth. It’s a story I share with others, hoping they too will find strength in knowing that their darkest hour might just be the dawn of a better tomorrow.

From that day forward, whenever I passed by Serkan’s stand, I would buy a doner kebab—no longer out of necessity, but as a symbol of gratitude and respect for second chances.

My journey from a starving artist to a developer was not without its twists and turns. But through perseverance and hard work, I managed to turn my life around. And every time I recall that night on the subway train, I am reminded that sometimes, it takes falling to rock bottom to truly appreciate the value of rising above it.