Özür Dilerim, Wilson!
- 2 minutes ago
- 4 min read
You’ve seen the video.
A chicken drifting away on a piece of wood during a flood. A desperate owner shouting behind him:
“Wilson! Lo siento, Wilson!”
It is tragic. It is theatrical. It is unintentionally comedic. And linguistically, it is perfect.
Because Spanish “lo siento” literally means “I feel it.” It expresses emotional regret. But Turkish does not organize apologies around emotion alone. Turkish organizes them around responsibility, social harmony, and forgiveness.
If Wilson were Turkish, what would the owner shout?
Probably not just one thing.
Let’s look at the options.
Özür dilerim, Wilson.
The most standard phrase is özür dilerim.
Etymologically, özür comes from Arabic ‘udhr’, meaning excuse or justification. Dilemek means “to wish” or “to request.” So özür dilemek literally means “to request an excuse.” In English terms, it is closer to “I request your pardon” than “I feel sorry.”
This is why it sounds structured and deliberate. You use it when you are responsible for something. You are not just expressing emotion; you are formally acknowledging fault.
In flood-Wilson terms:
“Wilson… Özür dilerim.”
It feels like, the owner is apologizing for not saving his life. That's why he was apologizing.
Kusura Bakma.
Another option is kusura bakma.
Kusur means fault or defect. Bakmak means to look. So literally, it means “don’t look at the fault.”
That is very Turkish.
Instead of centering yourself and saying “I am sorry,” you soften the situation by telling the other person not to focus on the mistake. It is socially lubricating language. Less formal, more human.
If the owner felt helpless rather than guilty, he might shout:
“Wilson… kusura bakma...”
But it is not dramatic at all.
Affedersin.
Then there is affedersin or affedersiniz.
This comes from Arabic ‘afw’, meaning forgiveness. The verb affetmek means “to forgive.” So affedersin literally means “you forgive.” It is structurally interesting because grammatically, you are placing the action on the other person.
In daily life, it functions more like “excuse me” or “pardon?” It is light. It is polite. It is not flood-level tragic. If someone says “Affedersin Wilson,” it sounds like they stepped on the chicken in a supermarket, not lost him to a natural disaster.
Hakkını helal et. (My favourite[in this occasion])
For peak drama, Turkish has something culturally heavier: hakkını helal et.
Hak means right or moral claim. Helal etmek means to declare something lawful or morally cleared. So the phrase literally means “make your rights lawful for me,” or more naturally, “forgive me for any rights I may owe you.” (something to do with Islam also, explained below)
This is not casual. It appears in hospital rooms, before risky journeys, in moments that might be final. If Wilson truly disappeared into the horizon, this is the line that would turn the scene into a Turkish melodrama:
“Wilson… hakkını helal et.”
That is not just regret. It is more like a "last goodbye".
Pardon.
And then there is pardon, borrowed directly from French. Short. Urban. Minimal. It is for tiny collisions in daily life. It does not belong in a flood cinema.
More about "Hakkını helal et"
In everyday Turkish, hakkını helal et may sound like a dramatic way of saying “forgive me.” But in a religious and cultural context, it carries a much deeper theological meaning.
Hak means right, claim, or entitlement.
Helal means religiously lawful or morally cleared.
Etmek means to make or to do.
So literally, hakkını helal et means:
“Make your rights over me lawful.”
But what does that actually "hakkını helal et" mean?
In Islamic belief, there is a major distinction between two categories of wrongdoing:
Allah’a karşı günahlar – sins against God.
Kul hakkı – violations of another person’s rights.
The second one is extremely serious.
Kul hakkı literally means “the right of the servant.” In Islamic theology, if you wrong another human being, God does not automatically forgive that violation unless the person you harmed forgives you first. Divine forgiveness alone is not enough when another human’s rights are involved.
This is why "hakkını helal et" is not casual language.
When someone says it, they are not just saying, “Sorry about earlier.”
They are essentially saying:
“If I have ever hurt you, wronged you, spoken badly about you, taken something from you, disappointed you, or violated your rights in any way, please release me from that moral debt.”
It is a request that extends beyond this life.
The belief is that unresolved kul hakkı may be settled in the afterlife. If forgiveness is not granted in this world, the person who committed the wrongdoing may have to compensate through their good deeds on Judgment Day. In that sense, saying hakkını helal et is asking for spiritual clearance before death.
That is why you often hear it:
Before surgery
Before military service
Before a dangerous journey
At a deathbed
During final goodbyes
It is preventive moral accounting.
When someone responds with helal olsun or hakkım helal olsun, they are saying:
“My rights over you are cleared.”
The emotional weight is enormous because the phrase assumes imperfection. It assumes that knowingly or unknowingly, we have harmed each other. And it acknowledges that earthly apologies may not be enough.
So if someone says:
“Wilson… hakkını helal et…”
They are not just apologizing for losing a chicken in a flood.
They are saying:
“If I have ever failed you in any way, forgive me in this world and the next.”
It is not about social smoothness. It is about eternity. That is why this phrase feels heavy, and it is my personal favourite.