Lost to time, yet echoing still, stands the memory of Abdulhadi Cami. This mosque, once a vibrant hub in Ankara’s Altındağ district, met its end in 1941. A road expansion project led to its expropriation and demolition. But its story, much like the intricate calligraphy that once graced its walls, deserves to be remembered. Abdulhadi Cami wasn’t simply erased. It was transformed. The funds from its expropriation breathed new life into another house of worship, the Kurtuluş Cami. Pieces of Abdulhadi Cami lived on, physically transplanted into its successor. Its wooden minbar, a pulpit of ornate craftsmanship, found a new home. Two panels inscribed with the elegant calligraphy of Hattat Kamil Efendi were also moved, first to Karacabey Camisi and later to Kurtuluş Cami. The very essence of Abdulhadi Cami, its spiritual heart, was carried forward. The mosque’s inscription, etched onto its wooden entrance gate, revealed the identity of its benefactor: Abdulhadi Efendi. He was a descendant of the Karacabey family, a prominent figure among the scholars of his time. Records from the General Directorate of Foundations suggest that Abdulhadi Cami was built around 1731. A 1924 map of Ankara reveals more about the mosque’s surroundings. A school stood to its north, and a cemetery lay to its south. Sadly, the cemetery was removed during the mosque’s demolition, its final resting places lost to the tides of progress. The school, a sıbyan mektebi located near the Koyunpazarı Bazaar, was also a testament to Abdulhadi Efendi’s generosity. His vakfiye, a charitable endowment deed from 1731, describes the school as a three-room structure, a beacon of learning nestled beside the mosque. Abdulhadi Cami might be gone, but its legacy endures in the stones of Kurtuluş Cami and in the stories we tell.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to