Tuesday, September 24, 2013

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -13- A STAGED TRADITIONAL TURKISH WEDDING IN OTHER WORDS MODERN KIR DUGUNU

8.12.2013 A STAGED TRADITIONAL TURKISH WEDDING IN OTHER WORDS MODERN KIR DUGUNU

Mission accomplished! The wedding is over, a great success, all went according to Melike's plans, and she is probably peacefully asleep in her husband's arms now as I type up these lines. I  replay everything in my mind over and over as I try to get all the details of the wedding in my blog:

Sunset at the wedding site

I am a "hala" (paternal aunt), enjoying Melike's happiness first and foremost, of course but also a relentless academic, who cant avoid but look at everything around me through the eyes of an anthropologist, even if I am not one. Having spent significant chunk of my life in other lands, observing other cultures, I think, this has become second nature to me if not by training but by experience.  


My two brothers with their abla (older sister)


I am observing different sections of the attendees as much as I can identify their origins, their group identifications, and their potential paradigms through how they dance, what they like to sing, what they wear, how they address each other, whether they touch each other (if they do how closely) or not, whether they have eye contact or not, on and on and on... This will go on throughout the night. The wedding format is one of a "country wedding" or "kir dugunu" in Turkish. "Kir" is one of the expansive words in Turkish. In one context, it may refer to picnic place, in another to expansive meadows, in yet another to countryside, among other references to wild and natural spaces. 

With my two sisters-in-law before the wedding

When I first heard this term, kir dugunu, I was delighted (soon was clarified by others to be a false understanding) that it would be simple and natural, but still beautiful displaying the extraordinary beauty of the simple. The wedding unfolding before my eyes is indeed beautiful, but anything but simple and natural. I cant help noticing and feeling disappointed that every single moment of the bride and groom's movements are either choreographed, or dictated by the cameramen, video-recording the entire wedding. It is as if the wedding is staged so that it is filmed, cameras primary, the wedding secondary. As a result of all of this, my poor Melike has to carry a photographic smile on her face throughout the night that will rarely leave its place to her natural, innocent, and beautiful wide variety of mimics and gestures. I wish, from the bottom of my heart the cameramen had left them alone and just recorded the entire night in its own flow and whatever spontaneity was left to exist.

Wedding ceremony conducted on a dedicated stage 

I recall my daughter telling me "country wedding" concept having become one of the "in" commercialization methods of tradition. Furthermore, I discover from Kezban that this fashion had started after one of the soap operas played with the kir dugunu concept in one of its sections that eventually led to a whole industrial sector springing out of nowhere, producing and pumping all kinds of goods and ideas to support and maintain the concept, thus, its market share. When I look at my surroundings with this new awareness,

With my youner brother and his wife

I can now see what kind of a new industry must be supporting all this totally scripted production. I am sad one more time that we are losing our authenticity and adopting American ways in every walk of life, at least in urban settings. Yet, I cant help but wonder whether the Turkish society has yet again played a trick on globalization and interjected tradition into commercialization. One may certainly argue: is it commercialization of authenticity or authentication of commercialization? If anybody knows the answer to chicken or egg question, perhaps the answer to this question is within that mind, too

Some of the many delightful moments of the wedding involve meeting people from my past that I hadn't seen for decades.

My older brother and his wife, the parents of the bride

One of my high school friends approaches me at the beginning of the wedding with a tall, handsome young man, almost reminiscent of Bratt Pitt! It turnes out the handsome man is my friend's son Utku, who was also one of my patients at my practice until 4-5 years of age, until I left Turkey 16 years ago. He is now a confident, lovely man, who is comfortable telling me "as soon as I heard Resmiye would be at the wedding, I decided I would come, too!" His mother, who is one of the wedding organizers, just by chance, is also ecstatic with our reunion. She tells me "He grew up with stories of his 'auntie Resmiye'. I wasn't surprised when he perked up about coming to the wedding along with us when I told him, you'd be at the wedding", so heartwarming. I give him my card so that he may contact me when he comes to St. Louis to complete the last two years of his college studies at the University of Illinois. I am pretty sure, he will come visit us.

The groom's grandfather offering a golden bracelet as a gift to the bride: tradition prevails!

Some of my cousins from my father's side that I hadn't seen for a long long time, appear before my eyes. I discover the daughter of one of them is in New York City, whose mother also receives a card with my contact info to connect. I hope I can bring her in for a weekend visit, too. All in all, this trip to Turkey was full of a combination of tradition, evolving Turkish culture, and anthropology, which I didn't mind at all, in fact thoroughly enjoyed. I can't say, I was able to silence my inquisitive and analytical and somewhat critical mind as much as a trained anthropologist might have done, but all in all, in all that analytical observation, I still enjoyed my time in Turkey in this August of 2013, thoroughly.

One of spontaneous, caring emotional moments from the wedding, my mother teary and Melike connected with her

Monday, September 23, 2013

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -12- DEMOCRACY IN TURKEY? WHERE IS IT?

8.11.2013 DEMOCRACY IN TURKEY? WHERE IS IT?

Between hannah festivities and the actual wedding of my niece, they left one day for resting! How thoughtful We will start the day with a breakfast. One of the best parts of Turkish cuisine is its breakfasts. When I first moved to the USA, lack of access to proper Turkish breakfast items was a killer in terms of our adaptation to our new home. Our olives and various kinds of cheeses, with savory pastry and breads that go along with them were not easily available. Neither bagel and cheese, nor other sweet American breakfast items were cutting it for us. Until internet shopping was invented! Then, Turkish, Armenian, Palestinian food stores all over the country came to our help and America became truly home.

My maternal aunt Filiz, her daughter Muge, and grandson Bora had stayed at my brothers house after the hannah night. Thus we made a plan to have breakfast at my mothers/my house to start the day and left the rest to the spur of the moment. My aunt is a pharmacist, the only college graduate in my mother's family of their generation. Her daughter is a chemist, who is working on work place safety project, recently, I found out. Other than my core family, they are the only people I feel close to in my entire extended family, with whom I can share both intellectual and personal experiences. I got up early to make sure our breakfast was rich and healthy. Since nobody went to bed before 1-2 am the night before the breakfast started around 10 am and lasted until noon.


After breakfast we start discussing what we could do for the rest of the day. When my brother Mehmet and his wife Kezban come up with the offer of going to Karaburun for a beach day, I am ready with my bag as Kezban will later put it "in 30 seconds". We leave home in 15 minutes to head to a beautiful beach, secluded by an island right across from it, dividing a wide opening to the Aegean into two narrow canals. The water is crystal clear. Behind the narrow beach is a cafe, where we claim a table for drinks and snacks, and shade. Kezban's sister Sehnaz and her husband Ertan and their two adult daughters join us at the cafe. Sehnaz and I have a unique history. I not only know her from our community organizing days through common friends, but and as a result of that I later on, became the pediatrician for her children, who are now sitting across from me, elegant, intelligent, beautiful women.  I first took care of Cansu, who is now a high school teacher and has become an activist herself! Later, I also took care of Goksu, her sister. They tell me the only reason they are at the beach is to see their "auntie Resmiye", thats how they addressed me throughout their childhood.  It is such a delight to have political adult conversations with both of my girls that came to my hands as newborns and grew up in and out of my practice for years before I left Turkey. They leave with the promise that we will stop by at their summer house for a cup of coffee on the way back.

Karaburun as we are leaving for Izmir

I had also called my best friends, who have a weekend house in one of the villages in Karaburun, where they not only spend most of their summer days, but also almost all their winter weekends as well. I am delighted to see them join us at the cafe after I have my first swim reaching out half way to the island (couldnt dare heading to the island by myself in the choppy waters). I call somebody a best friend when you don't see them for years, perhaps, but once you get together, you catch up in a few minutes and move on as if that space in time never existed. That is the kind of friends Yildiray and Aysegul are for me, whom I have known for 25 years; we raised our children (Umut and Zeynep) together for ten years until I left Turkey for the USA. Umut, now is a rising star at Siemens working in Austria, and an eternal brother to my daughter. Yildiray is a physician specializing in occupational health, his wife is a special education teacher for autistic children. Whenever I see them, I like to discuss with them the politics in Turkey, since I trust their interpretation of events to the fullest.

Yildiray and Aysegul, being part of the same activist movement I was in, three decades ago, have started organizing the farmers in the Karaburun peninsula, who will have a demonstration against the government and its policies, which is full fledge exploiting the environment and selling public forests and beaches, and islands to their supporters left and right. I am proud of my friends. They tell me all about what happened during the Gezi Park protests that spread to the entire country after the police attacked the peaceful environmentalists in Istanbul in late May. They tell me about waking up at 2:30 am following the Gezi Park crackdown with the noise protesters had created in their residential neighborhood. I asked why at 2:30 in the morning: because the youth is online until late at night and social media had mobilized masses with some lag time. Following the crackdown, the Turkish media, almost fully controlled by the government and its partners/supporters was in deadly silence until a week after the protests. The only communication mode and information source was the social media for a long time.


They tell me how they rushed outside to join the young protesters and started walking toward the main road. After a while they headed downtown Izmir to discover there were thousands and thousands of people on the roads. This was only the beginning... They tell me about their own observations of police brutality, how police were cornering people in small groups to be able to beat them up to potential death, if not that, surely to significant injuries. They tell me about men with bats in hand hunting for protesters, especially female protesters to beat up. They are believed to be fundamentalist religious warriors, paramilitia, supporting AKP, Tayyip Erdogan's ruling party. We talk about what little we could do from the USA to contribute to the protests. We discuss how creative the new generation that we, the generation of 68 and the next one had lost hope in due to globalization and consumerism's take over. As much as we appreciate their creativity, my friends are as much worried about the lack of political leadership to bring all this reaction under one banner to tackle down the current rule and bring true democracy to Turkey. Our discussions generate more questions than answers, of course... However, it is still refreshing to hear my thoughts and concerns reflected back at me by my trusted friends, which bring a heightened awareness and knowledge to the table, on my part.


My brother and I talk a lot about Turkish politics, too. The so called "Ergenekon" crisis created by the government "came to an end" after many years of litigation before I left Turkey this time around. AKP created this conspiracy theory that the military, the academics, artists, journalists, the only common denominator among which was vocally opposing government policies had created a terrorist organization called Ergenekon and they were all were working on a plot to topple down the government. As a result of this theory, scores of men and women were incarcerated and kept in jail without a trial for years, some close to a decade. My brother tells me about the government agents hacking accounts of people and inserting provocative, conspiratorial files into their accounts to make them look like they were indeed part of a large conspiracy. He tells me, the defense had proven that there was electronic evidence that such material was inserted into accounts several years after the claimed dates of events (such as the files claimed to have been written in 2003 displaying the formatting of windows 2007, etc). Still, the judges were ignoring such evidence. This is how democratic Turkish political system is and free the judicial system is.  

In my disbelief about "How can that be?" after his initial frustration with me such as "abla, you have become too Americanized, how can you believe that law prevails in Turkey with so many violations to democracy?". After calming him down with "Ok, brother, explain to me how this can happen, since they do claim Turkish state is a state of law". He then tells me very familiar stories on: judges who did consider such evidence, being excused from presiding over the Ergenekon trials and being exiled to the most remote provinces of the country, their promotions being delayed; attorneys defending Ergenekon defendants being harassed, even being incarcerated with imaginary ties to Ergenekon, themselves, to deprive those defendants of their rights to an attorney; prosecutors recognizing all false allegations, keeping their charges to lesser ones also being exiled, on and on, and on...


Ergenekon trials finally ended couple days ago, which led to another bout of demonstrations. Numerous individuals were convicted to a life term, couple of them to "two life term sentences" (!). Mehmet Ali Haberal, world renowned founding president of Baskent University in Ankara, was released due to a lesser conviction, for which he had had more than enough jail time during the stagnant trial process.Tthis is how democratic even the judicial system is in Turkey right now, under this government, which eliminated the separation between executive and judicial powers with the most recent fraudulent constitutional referendum. 


Democracy? the west has been blowing AKP's whistle for a decade now claiming AKP is THE chance for Turkey to embrace democracy.... They either don't know AKP is abusing democracy as a tool for its own benefits, or are ignoring what AKP truly represents just because it serves the west's best interest, economically, for the time being. AKP represents Islamo-fascism as democratic and liberal Turkish people have been experiencing for a decade now, which the world has also witnessed during the last several months through government led, encouraged, applauded police brutality around Gezi Park and national uprising of late.


We almost bring the sun down to the horizon with all these discussions, when my brother announces it is time to return home. Understandable since we will make two more stops before arriving home near midnight one more time. we first stop at Mordogan, a lovely fishing coastal town midway between Karaburun and the highway leading to Izmir. Kezban's sister Sehnaz and her family have a summer house at a complex in the middle of olive groves in Mordogan, where multiple family members as well as many friends of theirs from the activist movement of the 70s have secured a summer home for themselves. It is in summary, a truly communal community, the culture of which prevails over the rest of the residents. The main characteristic of the community is openness and sharing in every way. Dinner tables are set in front of homes, all of which face each other across 4 feet wide alleys. Sharing food, mezes, grilled meat, is the mainstay as well as raki toasts. The cultural reminders make me recall Nazim Hikmet, my most favorite Turkish poet's lines:  "sharing everything, everywhere, all the time, other than lover's lips...."


We pay a bayram visit to Kezban and Sehnaz's mother and father, who also have a summer home in the same complex. After enjoying a cup of Turkish coffee, each, we head to a fish restaurant. Every fish restaurant in Turkey is a festivity in and of itself. Most of them are very modest places, very consistent with the beautiful simplicity of beach life, preserved in places like Karaburun, Mordogan, Seferihisar, still resisting to savage commercialization of our beaches. The most spectacular aspect of each of these fish restaurants is their fridges in which the catch of the day is kept and displayed through transparent glass walls. My brother picks a huge six-pounder (over 2.5 kg) sea bass, which lives in the rocky shores of select coasts like Karaburun's. It is a beautiful creature, indeed and its taste, we will all testify to as beyond this world. I think of my dear friend Nukhet as I savor the fish, who would definitely say "it is mind-boggling" or "akla zarar", in Turkish. I smile, thinking, how world-wide even my free associations are... I concur one more time, I thoroughly enjoy being a world citizen, feeling at home in Turkey and Greece and Portugal and Guatemala and the USA, among other places I have been to, alike. 
After devouring a 6 lb sea bass, everybody is content

Sunday, September 22, 2013

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -11- HANNAH CEREMONY BEFORE WEDDING

8.10.2013 HANNAH CEREMONY BEFORE WEDDING

Hanna festivities are over! It was so much fun to immerse in modernized tradition, since pure tradition is not really my thing. My brother Mehmet and his wife Kezban came over to my mother's house yesterday for breakfast. There was a small glitch at the end of breakfast when my niece Melike, who is soon to be married called us frantically being concerned about a sensation in her eye and whether she'd be able to wear her contacts for the Hanna festivities and for her wedding in two days. Kezban, who is an anesthesiologist came to our help: She offered Melike to be seen at the hospital where Kezban worked. Pheww, that was quite a help. It turned out it wasn't anything other than dry conjunctiva.


Right after the beauty parlor visit, women all beautified

Around 11:30 am, Mehmet drove me to Melike's house where we did some more last minute cooking and greeted and hosted Melike's friends that started arriving from multiple cities for her wedding weekend. Melike's maternal uncle and other relatives also joined us throughout the day. It was a strange feeling to be hosting a wedding, for the first time in my life. So far, I always went to weddings hosted by others. Having just one daughter, who is swamped with professional engagements, no wedding any time soon for her; and one niece, no surprise that this is the first time I am somewhat responsible to make sure others are comfortable at our wedding festivities. I am an aunt after all, in Turkish culture considered half-a-mother.

  

My sisters-in-law and I just before leaving for the Hannah festivities

One of the details about Turkish weddings is that core family members go to a beauty parlor during the day of evening festivities, and have their hair done. I am not much of tradition, especially of this sort, but have one single niece after all, I decided to join the crew. It was fun to observe the communal spirit of women beautifying themselves asking for opinions of the group members, feeling satisfied, when everybody verified, each member had a fantastic hair-do or make up. However, I felt more like an anthropologist than an aunt when all the rest was all about how they could be their best in appearance.


My niece and I in front of the banner for her Hannah party

Finally, all of us improved in facade, returned home to have a late lunch, early dinner with all the food we fixed the day before. We had made turkish stuffed grape leaves, mixed stuffed vegetables, eggplant salad, barbunya beans, kiymali borek (pastry with ground beef and onions) and ispanakli borek (pastry with spinach and cheese, we made both), and desserts... it was great to see people enjoy our production as they scattered in small groups to all over the house with their plates and drinks. I had to take a nap before leaving for the "kir kahvesi" (country cafe) Atlihan in a village, famous for its kir kahvesi places, that are all multi-functional, nowadays I learn. They may serve as a breakfast place, restaurant, simple cafe, and lately, I guess, they also organize wedding ceremonies of small caliber.

Outdoors wedding setting in the country 

Sure enough, Atlihan kir kahvesi was ready for us all. They had put out tables and chairs donned with white table clothes and chair dresses to the ground. Although what was underneath was simple plastic, the coverings made the chairs and the entire place look very elegant. The youngest females were assigned to be responsible for the candy and cologne job. In Turkish tradition, two-three young girls stand by the door/gate of where the wedding is held and offer guests a very light cologne with lemon scent and candy/chocolate. This lemon cologne actually may be served to guests under any circumstance, even when people visit one another in their homes. It is not very perfumy, especially in hot summer days, the alcohol in it evaporating rapidly gives a sense of refreshment. I personally like it a lot. Clearly everybody else did, too, nobody refused it. Hand full of lemon cologne found its way to the guests necks and arms helping them cool off a bit more. Serap. my sister-in-law, my brother, and Melike's inlaws-to-become were lined up at the entrance to greet the guests. I joined the crew being the only aunt Melike had.


My brother bringing our mother to the Kir Kahvesi

I assumed people didn't know me, thus, I introduced myself to people as Melike's aunt, "hala". Turkish is very descriptive in that regard like Spanish. Every relationship has a different title, allowing one identify whether it is a paternal or maternal relative. It was cute to see the expression on peoples faces, one of Oh my, so this is the woman as if they had heard about me, the woman, who is across the ocean and God knows when she will return for good and finally here I was! This way, Mustafa, the groom's halas (paternal aunts) and teyzes (maternal aunts) introduced themselves to me, too in delight. I felt we were much more connected this time around. They seemed to be all well-intentioned, genuine people far from pretense. I liked Mustafa's family so far quite a bit.

Melike and Mutafa doing ballroom dancing

Melike had made some nice touches throughout the place in her preparations. Evil eye beads were scattered across the tables around the central bouquets. She had us tie colored chiffon scarves around the posts all over the place, which purked up an all-white space. The hannah parade was something else. All single women were invited to go inside to prepare for the parade. They were all given a short bride's head piece to wear  as well as scarves to wave during the parade. When the entire parade was ready, Melike led the crew with a semitransparent red scarf over her head and face, covering the upper half of her body. No wonder she had chosen a dark red dress, which was very becoming to her with her temporary scarf, now. One of Melike's friends was carrying the bowl full of hannah paste to be applied to Melike's hand then to be distributed to whoever wanted to apply it to their hands. Three candles lit on top of the hannah bowl were the only source of lighting all around us at that moment. As they started walking toward the stage, it turned into a traditional folkloric line dance, called halay in Turkey. After the youth all got on the stage dancing halay, we all joined in and made the line dance into an eternal circle wound into itself numerous times.


Hannah parade with all single girls and women lined up on the stage

Finally, my dear Melike was "entrapped' in the heart of the circle. Somebody brought two chairs into the circle and had Melike and Mustafa sit side by side. As one of Melike's friends was applying hannah into Melike's palm, Melike's mother-in-law snuck in a gold coin into the middle of the hannah lump in Melike's palm! All was quickly wrapped with a piece of cloth and her hand went into a red semitransparent glove. This is traditionally the time, the bride is expected (!) to shed tears since this moment supposedly represents the fact that the bride is departing from her father's home and is moving into her husband's household.

Melike trying to heold her tears back: It is the tradition for the bride to cry!

As much as I enjoy the backdrop of certain traditions with some aspects, I can't help recalling what they actually represent in political economy context: All these rituals in fact refer to a young woman being exchanged between two households in the context of feudal relationships, after which she will become working hands for the husband's family. For the sake of that, the husband's family is expected to pay whatever it takes to get her! To pay dowry to the brides father, if not in western Turkey, in eastern Turkey for sure is still a common practice. None of this applies to Melike and Mustafa of course since they are just playing with the idea of traditionalism during their wedding, but it does apply to scores of women and men in more traditional settings in the country, not only that, all around the world.


I bet in 1800-1900s, I would be called a "bad American" for having rhytym just like African Americans

Once hannah ceremony was over, we were back to dancing. Melike was in her element. Mustafa and she did two ballroom dances (apparently, it became a custom to take dance lessons for the bride and the groom to look professional during the wedding, each and every moment of which is video-recorded in Turkey, too, nowadays. In fact, there were times, I felt as if the hannah ceremony was being performed for a video-production rather than it being recorded in its natural course. Little did I know, the same will be repeated, much worse at the wedding itself. Once the traditional Turkish group dances resumed, the two sides of the families intermingled much better, dancing in mixed groups.I must say, everybody visited the stage to dance at least once, some of us, pretty much not leaving the dance floor. I wished my daughter had been there with us, she not only would have enjoyed herself thoroughly, but also would have made Melike much happier.

The bride's mother dancing with the folk dance group

When I had to leave half an hour early since my mother wasn't able to hold up any more, this was the longest she could sit on a chair for a long time, the dancing was still continuing full fledge. I learned later on that the young people, the bride, the groom and their friends went to a night club to continue dancing until 4 am in the morning. I recalled fondly, the days, my friends and I used to dance until early hours of the morning a few decades ago. That is youth, I thought. as young at heart as I feel, my entertainment engagements usually end around midnight nowadays....

Just before the hannah application

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -10 - RAMADAN AND BAYRAM IN TURKEY AFTER MORE THAN A DECADE

8.8.2013 RAMADAN AND BAYRAM IN TURKEY AFTER MORE THAN A DECADE

Ramadan is over in the Muslim world. I have ambiguous feelings about this month and the culture surrounding it. My memories from childhood are very pleasant. My parents were the ones suffering the burdens of starvation and dehydration during those years, I simply enjoyed the enthusiasm around the festive dinner tables, called "iftar sofrasi", the unique foods that were only found at iftar tables, and of course the bayram that followed, which brought lots of allowances from grandparents, our own parents, older relatives, and even neighbors when we visited them through three days of bayram. the only negative memory I have from Ramadan is the fear the drummers triggered in me in the middle of the night. They strolled the neighborhoods to wake up people for an early breakfast, "sahur" before fasting started. Occasionally, when I got up with my parents for the sahur meal, I would look out the window to see the drummer strolling our neighborhood. His dark skin, most drummers were Roma people, fast pace in the solitude of the night with long shadows elongating in every which way, the sound of his footsteps when he didnt beat the drum and the roaring sound of the drum scared me to death. I felt our street was invaded by some violent stranger.  When he and his team came to our door to ask for tip in the middle of Ramadan and on the first day of bayram, I would hide in fear in the most remote corner of the house and couldnt understand why my parents were so friendly with such scary people.


When I reached late adolescence, the context changed totally. I was no longer a Muslim and I started seeing the Ramadan drummers as intruders to the lives of non-believers or non-fasters. I was almost looking for a way of punishing the poor drummers, who were just after a very modest income through tips. As upset as I was with the drumming tradition, I am glad I never insulted them other than telling the tip-seekers, "I do not fast, I am sorry." Had I had the wisdom of today, I think I would have tipped them anyway. I guess that is the way all over the world. In a country where at least 90% of the population is Muslim, traditions of Islam are imposed upon the minority non-Muslims, whether they are of other belief systems or non-believers. Even in the USA, although Christianity is not the choice of religion for such large majority, still, its traditions prevail.


This year is the first time in more than a decade, I spend time in Turkey during Ramadan. Thus, I have the opportunity to check my feelings and thoughts about the Ramadan traditions one more time. First of all, I now have discovered ear plugs, which did not exist in Turkey before I left the country to move to the USA. That, in and of itself takes care of a potential upset due to uncalled for drumming in the middle of the night. During the ten days of Ramadan I spent in Turkey this time, I did not wake up because of the drummers at all, thanks to my ear plugs. Perhaps because of this or the maturity that came with age, or the tolerance that I developed for attitudes and traditions that I dont observe, Ive been able to see the drummers, who visited every apartment building for tips this morning, simply through the tradition lens without anger or frustration. It is now, also fun to prepare a dessert for the potential guests that will visit my mother during the three days of Bayram. I smile thinking, how I never followed that tradition in my own home as an adult, since I was a nonbeliever and I took advantage of time off during bayrams and took off either up to the mountains or to the beaches. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, though, it was great fun to help my mother who would make several kinds of desserts for our guests.


It is fun to be with my family on a Bayram day after more than a decade if not longer. I made plans for an elaborate breakfast for my brothers and their families. It is almost expected, too, since I am now the oldest functional adult in my family, my mother being disabled. I bought the ingredients to make borek (Turkish pastry stuffed with a variety of ingredients) in addition to a variety of cheeses, pistachio helva, olives and greens. I learned from my mother how to make a unique Cretan style borek with zucchini. I had to slice the zucchini the night before so that it would release some of its juice to be drained over night. My brother Mehmet was anxious that making borek would take too long a time for Bayram breakfast: I am up at 6:30 am and borek is ready to go in the oven by 8. When I called my brother Mehmet, who lives in the same block with my mother that borek was in the oven already, I could tell I woke him up from a sweet morning sleep.


Both of my brothers, my older brother's wife and daughter (the younger's wife was on call) joined us for breakfast. We were all very pleased in an adolescent manner with the richness of our breakfast table, perhaps, all of us were experiencing a de ja voix from our childhood since our mothers Bayram breakfast tables were just like this one. I am especially happy since I aimed at exactly this, to have my brothers experience a just like Moms table, it looks like it worked. Some of the items were first encounter for Firuza, she is ecstatic with not only the food, but also with having a proper and timely breakfast for the first time in a month.

Breakfast on Bayram morning with my entier family except for my younger sister-in-law


Later on she tells me she was more astonished with my cooking with her and treating her like a sister. I dont quite understand and look at her, I bet quizzically. She explains "I told my mom, 'I had dinner with a professor', she was very impressed!". I crack up, but also feel a bit saddened. This alone is an indication for how traditional and almost cast-based the section of Uzbeki culture she is coming from must be. No wonder, she is constantly trying to take over what I do when we cook together, telling me "I'll do it, you go, sit." And the final resistance is that she doesnt want to sit with us at the same table considering she is a servant. We finally convince her that to us, she is family and almost force her to sit at the family table to have breakfast with us. I am pretty sure, she won't believe where she will have come by the end of her time with my family in Izmir if and when she chooses to go back to Uzbekistan. I hope this experience helps her become her own person and be happy.  


Melike, my niece, who will soon be married

After breakfast, my sister-in law Serap, whose daughter Melike, my niece is getting married, and I go to their house in Bornova, about 25 kms away from my mother's house. My other sister-in-law had made stuffed grape leaves and dessert to help Serap's menu for the dinner she will have at her house for the core family members before her daughter's hanna ceremony the following day. Serap and I will cook stuffed vegetables, roasted eggplant and red pepper salads, zucchini patties, barbunya beans, cheese borek, and turkish meatballs with potatoes. Visitors tomorrow, will enjoy the variety of food quite a bit, I know. I feel at peace to be of some help to my only niece's wedding festivities. My last several days in Izmir before heading back home in Iowa City will be all about the wedding, which I am looking forward to.

My sisters-in-law just before leaving for the hanna celebration for Melike's wedding

TURKEY AUGUST 2103 - 9 - STRONG WOMEN OF IZMIR VERSUS UZBEKISTAN

8.7.2013 STRONG WOMEN OF IZMIR VERSUS UZBEKISTAN

Finally, I am done with the training activities. All went well and I am pleased that I created more connections in the country with key agencies to improve the response to not only child sexual abuse but also adult sexual assault.




My disabled mother and her helper from Uzbekistan
Today, I had more time to spend with my mother and her helper. It is quite lovely to hear of her impressions of Turkey, rather Izmir and its people compared to her people in Uzbekistan. She figured out my "abla" (older sister) status in my family, her first question was about how women carry themselves in Izmir. "Abla, in Uzbekistan, women walk behind men, but here women are strong (demonstrates by thrusting her head backwards and bending her forearms upward at the elbows with her hands in a fist each) they walk in front of men, why is that?" I crack up is that how she sees us Izmirite women, like sergeant majors? She doesnt know of course, that there are plenty of places in Turkey, too, where women have to walk behind their men in fact even in Izmir, if not literally at least to a certain extent metaphorically




My brother and his wife certainly have a different relationship from the couple below from eastern rural Turkey
Soon it becomes clear that she cannot comprehend how in the world and why men she sees in and around my family are opening doors to women and offering them "right of way" if you will. I chuckle to her innocent disbelief and astonishment. I tell her unfortunately, it isn't that way in the eastern parts of the country and that Izmir is the most progressive province of Turkey and that is why men and women are the way they are in Izmir. I tell her one more thing: I would live nowhere in Turkey but Izmir! She tells me she knows she is lucky for living in Izmir and elaborates on how submissive women have to be in Uzbekistan. She tells me how her husband had taken away all her earnings when she lived in Uzbekistan after physically abusing her, which eventually made her leave her country and come to Turkey to make money without him being able to reach her.

In remote parts of Turkey one may see this as well.

It becomes clear that Uzbekistan is still in the dark ages of Islam, where men may simply say "Divorced", just as it was the case before the Independence War of Turkey in Turkey, and a woman would lose all her rights to her marriage. Of course my mother is semi-screaming from her spot "I would kick a man out of my house the moment he touched me with the flick of his finger", meaning violently. I fully support my mothers statement. Firuza then shares with us that her mother is also encouraging her to leave her husband, for which she finds a lot of support in our kitchen; excited with the conversation, my mother has now moved to the kitchen, too..


My mother listening to our conversation with full attention

My mother and I start encouraging her to divorce him, which she states would cost her only $100. She is worried about her prospect to build a second family with her children, though. With her intelligence, I bet she will learn Turkish in no time and will have a very good chance for a second chance. But as one of my dear friends put it, this is not a problem x, for which there is an easy y solution. I recall how affectionately I had smiled to myself when I heard this approach from him, since my mind works very much like that, too upon hearing of a problem. I have seen enough in this life, though, as soon as I catch myself thinking in x-y mode, I also realize that there are very few situations in real life scenarios, where x-y modalities work. With this realization, I switch to "this is her problem, we can only offer her help, she has to make her own decisions" modality of thinking.



Firuza, innocent, sweet, full of hope for her future

Going back to Firuza's astonishment with how strong women are in Izmir, I can't help thinking one more time how relative everything is. Firuza is impressed with the amount of women's rights in Izmir, which is a place I left since I didn't feel I was free enough, individually in my family, culturally in my community, etc. Firuza is in another bout of disbelief when I mention to her about women's rights movement in the USA. She doesn't even have a concept anywhere near to that. When I explain to her the concept, she exclaims "There are no rights for women in Uzbekistan!"  In a way, I feel sad for her.  She has so much more to learn and accomplish to reach what she deserves. I hope, her time with my mother and family will empower her to protect and empower her children without submitting to a domestic violence perpetrator.  
The females of my family embracing Firuza as one of us

Monday, September 16, 2013

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 - 8 - SOGUCAK AND KEMERALTI, TWO AUTHENTIC AND DISTINCTLY UNIQUE PLACES

8 5 2013  SOGUCAK AND KEMERALTI, TWO AUTHENTIC AND DISTINCTLY UNIQUE PLACES

My brother Mehmet and I bought our summer house together, about 20 years ago. The cooperative we had joined in then, purchased the land first followed with the construction, which continued for 5-6 years. Eventually, when my mother and father moved in to enjoy it for 6 months of the year, I had already moved to the USA for good (not initially, but turned out to be so in couple of years). Thus, I haven't been able to stay there for more than a week per year; even that is rare. Mostly, every time I come to Turkey, I manage to visit our house for a few days, but it still feels mine, and I love it thoroughly. My brother Mehmet and his wife also love the place, the peace, quiet, and joy surrounding it; they take care of it beautifully, thus, it is always in pristine condition every time I return.

Our summer house in Sogucak surrounded with olive and other fruit trees
Our summer house is located in a complex that was built on top of a hill, adjacent to Sogucak village, a village looking down on the Aegean and on Kusadasi Bay. Sogucak houses three different styles of living in its bosom. The core belongs to the natives, in small typical countryside village homes built on the edge of family vegetable gardens, some, two-three story high, housing several families from an extended family, some small, humble shacks. The second life style is enjoyed by single summer house owners or those owning a house in a summer house complex, like my family. The third belongs to the European home owners or those renting a home from European owners of summer homes. Globalization created a lovely ethnic mixture even in Sogucak, as small a village as it is. The Europeans finding a home base in Sogucak are certainly those, who like to run away from commercial tourism; they seek authenticity, they are anti-tourists just like I, and it is very common for them to greet you in Turkish and learn Turkish to get by at least.

Greek island Samos across Kusadasi Bay from the terrace of our summer house
Thus, the native villagers do their own thing most of the time, with a few restaurants serving the passerby tourists, and temporary residents of the village alike. Female vendors set up shop in front of their homes; they put up a almost flat inverted wok on top of wood fire to make pastry, loaded with vegetables and cheese, or potato and cheese, or meat and onions: This pastry, called gozleme may serve as breakfast item, for lunch, of for snack along with afternoon tea. There is one specific gozlemeci (who makes gozleme) that I make sure to visit every time I come to the village. Zeynep, who makes her gozleme or bazlama (the filo dough for which is thicker than gozleme) in front of her house has a shop almost hanging down from her front yard onto the side-walk.  Her brother-in-law (Pasa) and sister-in-law, who live in the same courtyard in a separate house run a family restaurant at the most beautiful location in the village. I go there almost to meditate. Their restaurant occupies the border of their land that overlooks a ravine stretching toward the hillfoot on top of which is Sogucak. I sit at the most remote table in their open restaurant space looking at the bay with no obstacle in the visual field, all the way to Samos, the Greek island off Turkish shore. It is extremely meditative at any time of the day.

The view from where I had my coffee at Pasa's restaurant looking down on the Kusadasi Bay
With this goal in mind, I start strolling through the streets of our complex, than head out into the village, greet the young, and the old, women and men, kids and vendors, sitting on low standing stools in front of their homes, playing on the streets, or waiting for customers as I head toward Zeynep and Pasa's places.  Both are happy to see me. I ask Zeynep to prepare a gozleme for me to take home, my mother loves it as much as I do. Then I move to the restaurant to have a cup of Turkish coffee (my ritual here) as I savor the vistas down below along the coast all the way to Dilek Peninsula National Park 20 kms from our village. When I return home, just before dusk, it is time to break fast, we all respect Firuza's fasting; Firuza donned our dinner table with everything one could ask for, as we would call it in Turkish "the only thing missing is bird's milk". Throughout dinner, I think of how pleasant it is to spend time here in the village, hoping to return even if it is for one day in November, when I come back to Turkey for another teaching activity.


Sunset from the terrace of our summer house
Monday is my shopping day in Izmir. I bought several gifts for my loved ones in Iowa City, but I need some more. Kemeralti, the open street market is my destination. Although the main Kemeralti Street is only a few kms long, the entire conglomerate with its side streets might reach  a cumulative 10-15 kms of shops, vendors, restaurants, mini-malls,  passages, you name it. Since it is only a few days from one of the main religious holidays, called "bayram" in Turkish, it is all the more packed with people. Essentially, the streets are almost like a parking lot for barely moving people. Talk about personal space, which is reduced to zero cms right here in Kemeralti. It is suffocating at times, but I still like the fact that this crowd is proof that Kemeralti, a few hundreds of years of age is still alive, it hasn't succumbed to the huge malls lining the outskirts of every metropolis in the world as well as right here of my town.
My last stop is the Handcrafts Gift shop run by the Ministry of Culture, which is one of my favorite places in Izmir.  I am looking for a specific item this time. I'd like to buy handmade, silver earrings and a bracelet that this store used to carry to wear for my niece's wedding. The clerks, a middle aged man and a young woman tell me they don't carry much of what I am looking for anymore. I am worried, I ask them what is going on. They are open to unloading their frustration to an interested listener. They tell me in almost a chorus that the Ministry of Culture has stopped buying handcrafts from local artists since 2008 with the goal of closing the chain of such stores. It is like a stab in my chest: another attempt by the government to destroy unique cultural heritage of this land. They tell me, there are only 6 such stores across the country now, when Istanbul alone used to have 12, down to 2 recently. No wonder, the variety has been dwindling down over the last years. We start our criticism of the government, what else do I expect? Izmir, the most western city in the country, both literally and metaphorically that is socio-culturally, is certainly the most critical of the current government of all provinces and cities since it is also the most progressive city politically.
From the handcrafts store, I move to the waterfront. Pasaport is the name of a waterfront location, which has a pier where the boats that carry passengers from Konak, downtown to Karsiyaka, stop every other trip, it seems like. I find a table 2 ft away from the water and order a cup of Turkish coffee, while waiting for my friend. As I sip my coffee, the twins' peak is right across from me that brings memories of my childhood. The twins' peak in fact consists of two peaks, which was farther than the farthest imaginable location for me when I was a child. Little did I know then, that I would grow up and climb up to those peaks in my early thirties. After that first hike that I did with my outdoors group that I joined in 1991, I hiked over all the hills and mountains around Izmir Bay with and without Zeynep, my daughter, until we left Turkey to move to the USA. Every now and then, I hike around Izmir, but it is nowhere near my hikes in the national parks of the USA and those from 20-25 years earlier in Izmir.
 Finally, my friend Aytul arrives and we have a delightful chat. She is one of my friends that I make sure to carve at least a few hours out of our busy schedule to catch up since the last time we have seen each other. After departing from her, I visit my friend Bulent and Demet, who have lost Bulent's father and uncle, half a father figure for him two weeks from each other. It is sad to have to listen to the beautiful story of two brothers, who died back to back two weeks apart, one expected, the other totally unexpected. It is delightful to be able to bring a bit of joy to Bulent's life, whose lovely wife will be my guest for about three weeks in late August, early September, just in couple of weeks. Final destination for the day is Bostanli, a favorite neighborhood in Izmir, where my niece is starting a new life next week. They bought a beautiful apartment on the hills of Bostanli that overlooks the entire Izmir Bay from the north side. As soon as I enter the living room, I declare to my niece, "Wow, save one of your rooms for me for my next trip..." We all laugh.... At night, the bay and the lights all around it look like the necklace on a naked neck. It is very sweet to chat with my niece on her balcony for 15 minutes without anybody around us and help her vent her frustrations and feelings about the difficult process of organizing a wedding. It is great to hear that she and her husband-to-become both are planning to have a life independent from their parents. I do hope they may achieve that and be their own people, have a life that only they will decide upon.

My family in Turkey