CESME TURKEY 2018 - 3 - SEEDS OF TWO COCUK COMBALAK MEMBERS CREATED IN CRETE

I have to start with my family to lay out the roots of The Coluk Combalak. This will connect me as one of the members to Levent, the father of the bride, Gulce, who is getting married in Cesme, Turkey this summer. Levent has also been the pivotal center pole of The Coluk Combalak at least regarding its foundation.

This is my "bigger than life" friend Levent, with whom I have three generations of connection starting with our grandmothers

 

My ancestors were Cretan Muslims, who were forced to migrate to Turkey on one of the population exchange waves at the turn of the last century that started before WWI and continued until 1920s. They were from Xhania on Crete and were settled along the Aegean coast. My maternal grandmother, who was an infant upon arrival to Turkey, came from Ottoman lineage, whose father and grandfather were Muslim clerics at the madrasa in Xhania, most likely sent to Crete to help Cretan peasants convert to Islam in the process of "senlendirme".

Ottoman "lands" in yellow, Crete in red during the height of Ottoman Empire in 1600s

"Senlendirme" was a term for Islamization of the lands Ottomans conquered and invaded that translates as "happy-making". It never changes how imperialists and anti-democratic rulers tend to use positive or at least neutral terms for torturous acts in hopes to make their ignorant subservient swallow a bitter pill: Remember how water boarding, which is another name for torture, was presented to the American public for a long time. That is what Ottomans were doing as well. This process was certainly not free from massacres:

A  massacre in Xhania
                                                                              Ottomans conquered Crete during the Cretan War of 1645-1669. The revolt of 1770 in Sfakia, Cretan Independence uprising of 1821and the subsequent uprisings were harshly suppressed by the invading Ottomans and led to the execution of several bishops, regarded as ringleaders. After Greece achieved its independence in 1830, the Christian Cretans' aim was union with Greece. A contentious series of wars and revolts led to international powers forcing the Ottomans leave the island in 1898. Some muslim Cretans left the island right around that time, some after Crete's union with Greece in 1908, and finally the rest compulsorily exchanged for the Greek Christians of Anatolia under the terms of Lausanne Treaty in 1923. The "Turko"s that were forced to migrate to Turkey were not actually Turks. As three of my grandparents were, they were all Cretan-Greek peasants that came from a lineage that betrayed their countrymen for Ottoman incentives! You see, I can’t say, I am too proud of my ancestors: Scores of Greeks were not only not submitting to Ottomans, but were also fighting against those who had invaded their beloved island and dying for that cause. My ancestors on the other hand were either on the butchering side or joining a small minority of Greek Cretans and betraying their land and their countrymen!

Beautiful Xhania historic town center where my ancestors came from

As a result, the loyalists understandably labeled them "Turko", which was and still is a derogatory term in Greece and Greek. After several generations, all Muslim Greeks came to feel and identify with Turko identity even if they arrived in Turkey speaking not a single word of Turkish at adolescent ages. My father's lineage was called Temesukakis and my mother's lineage, Stelyaris.  Temesukaki Mehmet married Resmiye, my paternal grandmother, and Stelyari Mustafa married my maternal grandmother Sakire to produce 5 and 7 children, respectively, two of them being my mother Melek and my father Ibrahim.

My father's oldest aunt Zekiye, sitting in black, her son Mithat and his sister Emine Nevin (in black) and his wife Fatma Suheyla standing: Husnu on his grandmother's lap is over 70 years old in 2018

The collaborating Cretan Greeks, who became Turkos through decades, were in fact financially solid in Crete. They had land, they had agricultural businesses, they had homes. As a result, at the time of population exchange the corresponding government was to provide the immigrants with equivalent resources, land, home, etc. Thus, my maternal grandmother's side had so much land, the farm my grandmother inherited had three creeks running through it. My paternal side also was in good shape. That allowed them to support their neighbors with the extra they had based on their religious beliefs. One such event is when my father's oldest maternal aunt Fazilet and paternal uncle Ahmet sponsored the circumcision celebration of a neighborhood boy.

My father's oldest maternal aunt Fazilet and paternal uncle Ahmet, the sitting elder woman and man in black at the circumcision celebration of a neighborhood boy.

Around the same time another family arrived from Crete, from which a young girl named Melek would grow to become friends with my grandmother Resmiye, after whom I was named, neither one of them knowing that their friendship would lead to an at least four generations of friendships. Both of them had sons, who became friends through their apprenticeship in carpentry. Of these two, Ibrahim would become my father and Muharrem the father of Levent. Serendipitously, Levent and his twin Bulent and I were born in the same year! We never knew Levent would become the pivotal person in the foundation of The Coluk Combalak.
 

My family with my grandmother Resmiye during the circumcision celebration for my two brothers, when I was 8 (51 years ago) and my mother only 24 (she was engaged at 14, married at 15, had three children before 23) 

Our fathers both had carpentry shops in the same area in Izmir, their friendship flourished through their youth. My father married when he was 28 another Melek (translates as Angel in Turkish) and another Cretan-Turkish woman, 13 years his junior. Muharrem married, Pembe (translates as Pink in Turkish), the daughter of a Croatian Muslim immigrant family. Soon, the two women became friends, too, although Aunt Pembe was considerably older than my mother. My earliest memories about this friendship is from Bayrakli, Izmir, the old Greek town at the very bottom of Izmir Bay. By old, I mean old, since Bayrakli was settled for 5000 years, no less. The center of town was adorned by grand but subtle mansions of the old, some up to 200 years old. This is where we would get off the mini-bus that would bring us to Bayrakli from where we lived. Neither family had a car at the time, nor any of the middle class families of the time in Turkey. 

Levent's mother and father, the Cretan Muharrem, blond and blue eyed, Croatian Pembe dark complexioned

Muharrem and Pembe with their five kids lived in a two story house at the time surrounded with a beautiful courtyard circled with colorful flower beds and pots with herbs and patio tomato plants among others... Although the outside of the house itself, was not that attractive even to my child eyes, the inside was a heaven. After my grandmother Resmiye's two storied, falling down house, this was the first house on two stories that I had ever been to. Climbing up and down the stairs between the main floor and the second floor being a game in and of itself. They had five kids, two of which were twins, who were my age. All I remember from that household was laughter, story-telling, kindness, and warmth. We kids would play with no boundaries in their courtyard, where I would find absolute freedom. We would also over-hear all kinds of stories about Uncle Muharrem's forgetfulness, lack of geographic direction, all put into benevolent jokes. No wonder, there was so much laughter in that house, no wonder that family left nothing in my heart but all positive implicit memories.

Uncle Muharrem working in the gardens shortly before he died in the spring of 1995

One such unforgettable story about his forgetfulness goes like this, which I probably heard a dozen times during my childhood: Uncle Muharrem visited her fiancée Pembe at her house, where she lived with her family one night before they got married. They had dinner as a family, at the time, they would never permit young engaged people to spend time alone "God forbid" hands might touch one another's! Muharrem had dinner with the family, but when it was time to take leave from them there was a nuisance. It had started raining. His father in-law-to- become insisted him to take the father's umbrella. Muharrem, knowing his forgetfulness, refused.

Uncle Muharrem, his wife Pembe and their oldest four children, one of the blond twins in the front is Levent, Gulce's father

But as the Turkish culture goes, the father in-law won and Muharrem left their house with an umbrella. On the train home, he put his briefcase on the shelf above the seat and the umbrella in between his legs to make sure he wouldn't leave it on the train. We heard throughout our childhood that his hands were on the handle of the umbrella the whole time! When he arrived at his station, he put the umbrella on the seat to pick up his brief case and in that brief moment of no contact with the umbrella he totally forgot about it and walked out the compartment! That was our dearest Uncle Muharrem, and Levent followed suit! We always tease him about what he would have done without Suzan in life...

The last photograph taken of Uncle Muharrem happens to be the one with his five grandchildren, Gulce sitting next to him

They also had one daughter, Gunes (translates into Turkish as Sun), who was also the oldest, but my friendship with her would develop much later when we both became fully grown adults eliminating the importance of the 5-year age difference between us. Uncle Muharrem didn’t know what a very important deterministic influence he would have on my life. Along with my elementary school teacher, he convinced my father to make sure I would sit for the national exam to get into the special college-prep middle-high school in Izmir, one of seven in the country at the time.

Dear Uncle Muharrem on the wall of the house where I have the sweetest memories of my childhood

Both my elementary school teacher and Uncle Muharrem had a son in this high school called Bornova Maarif Koleji (Bornova Education College) at the time, which became Bornova Anadolu Lisesi (Bornova Anatolian High School) in the years that I attended the school. My teacher and Uncle Muharrem knew well what an opportunity this school would be for me, when nobody in my family fully understood it, yet. It was one of seven such schools in the country, where students were both prepared for college life, and for international opportunities. I am grateful that I had such caring people in my life and open-minded parents, who supported and encouraged me to pursue this path, which changed my life altogether.   

Pre-selfie photograph of Levet's entire family with kids and all, Gunes, the oldest and the only sister, must be the photographer...

And my dear father did encourage me to study, that was what he did best since he had lost the opportunity to finish his education due to some convoluted systems issues in the education system of his time. He brought two test taking books home one day, who knows where he obtained the information on what books to buy... Each about hundred pages with some 20 tests in each for me to get ready for the two exams to try out for acceptance to this life changing campus. I took and retook these practice tests over and over again during a two-month period. Test taking almost became my daily game and it helped! 

My dearest friend Greg and I in front of my high school when we visited "my places" in Turkey together in 2013

We learned in June of 1970 that I was to go to their admission office to enroll! Thus, Uncle Muharrem’s oldest son, Ibrahim and I became school mates. Of course by the time I joined the Bornova Anadolu Lisesi (BAL in short) as a little girl, he was already an adolescent, who would have nothing to do with me! But it was still lovely to know that I had an "agabey", older brother in school, who might protect me in case I needed it.  This school led me to the opportunity of becoming an academic at a fine university in the midwest, just because of the friendship between two adolescent Cretan youth that had just arrived from Crete to a foreign land, whose offspring would learn to call their motherland, soon. Thank you Aunt Melek, thank you grandma Resmiye...

My host family in Waterford, Wisconsin in 1975-1976: The Mealys

The very first unique experience my high school education gave me was to become an exchange student to Wisconsin, which allowed me to dare immigrating to the US decades later. When I returned from my exchange year in 1976, my friends and school had been transformed into something I had quite a bit of difficulty to adjust to. It was 1976-1977 school year. After the elections of 1974 following the military coup of 1970, several years of democracy had allowed one more time for workers to re-organize under unions, university students under student associations, public under local cultural centers. With what little freedom of expression the civil governments allowed, people were in city squares, marching and demonstrating about sky-rocketing prices and unbelievable inflation, diminishing wages, limited freedom of expression on university campuses, and police brutality against demonstrators all over the country.

May 1st Workers' Day Celebrations in Istanbul in 1977

In 1978, 111 people were killed in Kahraman Maras by a collaboration between police, military, and ultra-nationalist camp in Turkey. What followed this massacre was military rule established in Southeastern Turkey, which was for what the ultranationalist and Islamists longed for a long time. All this injustice and strategic plan to eliminate democracy, freedom of expression, and progressive rhetoric to take Turkey back to medieval times to re-establish the Turko-Islamist order made it very easy for me to choose a path for myself.
 

The Kahramanmaras massacre that took place in 1978 to set the stage for martial law in Turkey in preparation for 1980 military coup

 
Most of my friends had joined or formed groups of students reading and teaching others on what was happening in Turkey at the time. We were gradually coming to understand class-based societal organization and how the government was basically the steering committee for the ruling class, the nook of which was in the hands of the imperial powers of the west through IMF, World Bank and all...
 

Some of my friends that influenced me in 1976-77 school year 40 years later during a class reunion

 

That is when I came across the twins one more time. We found each other in the same activist group organizing communities specifically in the ghettos and university students to raise class consciousness. It was as simple as that. We were simply using our first amendment right, freedom of expression, the only arms we used being our words. No violence, no arms. But in oppressive societies, words are considered more dangerous than anything, the flow of which must be stopped at any cost. That is where Turkey was in the late 70s.

My daughter with her father when she was 3 years of age or so 

I met my husband-to-become in this activist group. As young adults, the twins, Levent and Bulent and I became closer friends. My friendship with Levent went much further when my then-husband and Levent started  working for the same pharmaceutical company, to which my husband was hired with Levent’s help. That brought us even closer, which was crowned by his girlfriend Suzan turning out to be a warm, loving, caring brilliant woman, who would soon become his wife. Levent and Suzan were visiting us in our house in Bornova in late 80s, when Levent, at our kitchen table turned to me and said "Is there an apartment for us in this building to rent?"


Two of my dearest combalaks Levent and Suzan, he most  likely did the same when he subtly proposed to her in our kitchen close to 30 years ago

Because, at the time living together without getting married was almost unthinkable, this was a proposal to Suzan, right there! I looked at Suzan, she was as perplexed as I was. We must have all exploded in laughter and applause. That was close to 30 years ago. He must have embraced her the way he always has been since then... They are two beautiful souls, who have always been each other's best friend, have managed to weave their love for one another into love for their precious daughter Gulce, for their close family members, for their friends, who have almost become their family just as they became my family. Love you Suzi'm, love you Levo'm, and that is forever. 

Every living soul's need on earth, I hope all those that need it find it just like all my Combalaks have... May our children also find love and joy in life... 

 

Levent's siblings, oldest brother Ibrahim and his twin Bulent standing; Levent, his youngest brother Gursel, and sister Gunes sitting

My brothers on the left sitting and standing, my sisters in law on either side of me with white hair, my mother sitting in the middle and her youngest sister next to her

CESME TURKEY 2018 - 2 - THE FIRST COLUK COMBALAK REUNION

In 2013, when it became clear that the Turkish colleagues that I had been working with for over a decade on systems building matters regarding child abuse and neglect had matured to a level, they could lead their own land and even start teaching others, I was able to move my international attention to other countries like Colombia, Greece, Portugal, Pakistan, among others.

My Turkish partners, with whom I carried out a 10-year long educational campaign in Turkey for systems building to prevent child abuse and neglect

As a result when the time I spent in Turkey annually was not as long as it used to be, I decided, I had to get together with The Coluk Combalak commune I always wanted to keep my connection with, in a different manner during my brief visits to Izmir. In fact all these years away from Turkey, The Coluk Combalak commune was what I certainly went back to every time I visited. Thus, we not only kept in contact but also every time we met, after filling in the blanks of the interim time, we picked up our friendship as if the distance in time and space had never existed. Nostalgia for our gatherings in each other's homes at least once a month with five kids running around the home guided me to how we could continue our unbreakable connection. Emerged from this exploration our annual to biannual get-togethers around long, savored home-made collective dinners in the home of one of the four families. The first reunion was quite unforgettable: 
 

My dear bro Levent and I never posed with such submission to the moment than on this picture

I brought from Iowa City crystal candle holders, in preparation for our reunion, two per family to light candles in honor of all the light we gave to each other and to our children over decades. I invited our clan with kids and all to my mother’s house so that my mother could also enjoy the reunion as a refreshed pleasant memory from our collective past.  When we all lived very close to one another and only 2 miles away from my mother’s house in Bornova, it was mostly my mother, who would pour all her gourmet cooking talents onto my dinner table around which all my friends, and most commonly the members of Coluk Combalak would gather and devour her delicacies.

One of the 1400 wild greens that grow on the island of Crete, turned into a delicious salad in the hands of my Cretan mother that my friends all ended up trying at our dinner tables

That is how all members of Coluk Combalak, although not Cretan, learned about and to enjoy Cretan delicacies through my mom’s cooking, in my dining room; "radika-something from dandelions family", "arapsaci-maratha-wild fennel", "turp otu-raddish greens", among others. All adult members of the clan were there, happy to get together just like in the old days, visiting with each other, my mother and brother. My mother's relatively small living room-dining room area was brightened one more time.

Aysegul, who took care of our children for 5-6 years in her in-home day care with Gulce, the first bride to become and Ekin, two middle kids of our five

I knew that Zeynep my daughter was not coming from the USA, and learned that Baris, the youngest, who had a basketball game that he had to play in was not coming. Gulce, who is a lawyer in Istanbul, and Ekin, who was working at a trading bank in London were with us. I was disappointed that Umut, the second oldest of the clan was in Istanbul for the weekend, visiting from Vienna, where he worked at Siemens, but he chose to spend time with his girlfriend!  This was not the Umut I knew, recalling the precious several days we had spent in Iowa City during his first visit to the USA.

Umut, when he visited us in Iowa City in October 2013

Not believing Umut could come to Istanbul but not bother to come to Izmir, I was constantly grilling the other two girls, the only kids available, considering they might be in better contact with one another. They also seemed to be exasperated with Umut's disinterest in our getting together. Oh well…As we were well into our constant “cheers” with raki glasses up in the air, the doorbell rang. Nobody expected at that hour of the night, but I was still hoping Umut could show up unexpectedly. My brother went to the door, The door opened. Being all ears, I was listening. My brother gave out a brief but loud “Ah!” as if to say, “It can’t be” or “Oh my gosh” or “Is this a dream?” or “Somebody pinch me…”

Another "bigger than life" person that has been constantly expanding my life, my best teacher, source of light, my daughter Zeynep and her dog Zela

My sister in-law followed to see what was happening at the door. Another “Ah!”, nothing more. As I was busy serving food, couple more people went to the door. But all we heard was the same “Ah!” followed with silence... When I finally went to the door, I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t in a dream. My daughter was at the door with her backpack and then-28 year-old self. Apparently, she was silencing every person, who went to the door, hence no words other than one single “Ah!” from everybody that crowded in front of the door. My joyful scream brought the rest of the clan to the door, which turned the vestibule into a festivity site. Gulce and Ekin, almost twins, although from two different families, came out into the vestibule, grinning. I looked at them with fake scorn and murmured “You brats, Umut is coming, too, I know it, he must be on his way here…”

Umut and Zeynep celebrating the trick they played on us at the door 

Sure enough, in ten minutes, his taxi was by the apartment building calling us on his forever turned off phone. By that time we were all hanging down from the balcony, anyway... I even expected Baris to show up, after all this "Uhdunno"s of their big conspiracy... But he didn’t, his stuckness in Istanbul was real and that part of the story was true. I will never forget this adorable trick our children played on us.

November 2013 with four of my five kids! Baris understood the significance of this gathering and never missed one since...

That is when we discovered there was something called Whatsapp and that was how they had stayed connected and were able to cook up this plan of surprising us all. That night, a Coluk Combalak Whatsapp group was also created with help from Gulce and Ekin. Since then, for the last five years, although, our children are all over the world and I am half way across from the old world, we are connected day in day out like a family, which we are and we will remain...

Some of our village members that attended Zeynep's graduation party, Mary, her husband, and Greg, both Greg's late wife Candace's gifts to me


As my daughter recently said during her medical school graduation party, when some 30 members of our "village" in Iowa City joined us "Each and every one of you gave me something in this journey. Without all the support I received from every one of you, I couldn't have been where I am today." That is what we all were for each other in Izmir between 1987 and 1998 when my daughter and I still lived in Turkey. And I am in bliss to say that we still are across three continents now.   

The first Coluk Combalak reunion at my mother's house

Four of our five children at the first reunion of Coluk Combalak in November 2013 (Gulce, Ekin, standing; Umut and my daughter Zeynep sitting)

 

The four mothers of The Coluk Combalak Clan: Saniye, Ekin and Baris' mother, Aysegul, Umut's mother, Resmiye, Zeynep's mother, and Suzan, Gulce the bride-to-become's mother

 

CESME TURKEY 2018 - 1 - "COLUK COMBALAK": THE BEST THING THAT HAPPENED TO 8 YOUNG PEOPLE

This entry on my trip to Turkey is going to be different compared to my previous entries about my international travels. This prose is the beginning of the story of four families that came together in Izmir, Turkey in the Bornova county in late 80s to late 90s. Living within a diameter of one mile, these 8 young people in their late 20s to early 30s and their offspring evolved into a commune who have been writing a story of unbreakable friendship, community, and chosen family for the last 30 years.

 

Camkiran, Bornova framer's market site surrounded with apartment buildings where The Coluk Combalak Commune lived in 1980s and 1990s

 

Although, this commune now consists of five families, three couples and one bachelor with two generations, scattered to four continents, this entry will focus on specifically two families for several reasons: The first is that my family history and that of Levent, the male member of the second family in our commune have a historical connection across four generations now, in the context of forced population exchange of the last century between two countries across The Water, Greece and Turkey. The Aegean Sea in almost romantic sense is "THE Water" for the peoples around it. In fact this intergenerational connection between Levent and I brought our commune, The Coluk Combalak to being with Levent being the epicenter.   

Levent my "bigger than life" friend of 59 years, wearing my hat the day before his daughter's wedding

Secondly, Levent’s daughter, the second youngest of our kids got married in Cesme resort town, the westernmost town in Turkey, this summer, which was the primary cause of my visit to Turkey this time. Coluk Combalak, which may be translated into English as “Kids and All” produced 5 children altogether, who became godchildren for all adults of Coluk Combalak, but more so for me and Aysegul, the female member of a third couple, because I was the pediatrician for all of them, and Aysegul was the best of the best in-home day care provider for all our children for about 5-6 years. In fact the name Coluk Combalak came to being with Aysegul’s husband Yildiray’s creativity, who has an impeccable command of Turkish.

My daughter and Aysegul, her one and only aunt, who was the 24/7 on-call nannie for all our children for ten years

 

Coluk Combalak in and of itself has such unique history and stories to it, which may deserve to find life in a novel some day, I will try to share with the reader our collective story to show how unconditional love, embracing each other with open arms, doing good for the collective along with our core families can create miracles. Although this entry will be more about Levent and I and our families, since the oldest four of our five kids already have partners, it is most likely that in the next 5-8 years, we will marry one of them every summer. I suspect the youngest will change his mind in due time and by the time the oldest four start their families, he most likely will also partner up. As a result, this story will continue with each child getting married on this blog, stay tuned.

Unforgettable depiction of the light, fun, and loving relationship among the three males of our clan: Mehmet, the acting Godfather and Yildiray and Levent paying their respects to him in Turkish style!

As most readers know, I was born and raised in Izmir, Turkey and lived in the Aegean region of the country until I turned 38, when I decided to move to the US following my professional aspirations that included opportunities for my daughter beyond the confines of Turkey. Between 2002 and 2013, almost all my visits, but, three to Turkey were determined by my ongoing professional work there with a large collaboration of colleagues to improve the field of child protection in the country, which led to 30 plus governmental hospital based child protection centers and at least a dozen university based centers with additional academic responsibilities.

My brothers, their wives, my aunt, and my mother, who was left neurologically disabled after a car accident, a picture from 2017

 

The first non-professional visit was dictated by the horrible car accident my mother, the woman, who could move the earth with her 5 ft stature experienced and was left disabled by it. She was the woman, who made me not only literally from her ovum, but also metaphorically; most of what I have now, what I have been able to return to the world are due to what she instilled in me all my life. Instead of she flying to Iowa City to visit me in my first home in America in two days, had she, as a pedestrian not been hit by a speeding car, I went to her in 2003, to find her in her bed, her body covered with a blanket of black and blue.

In 2014, my mother on the deck of our summer house in Kusadasi Turkey

What was worse was that she was confused, fighting bouts of semi-delirium. The promises from her physicians that she would sail through this and get back to her baseline were all impossible to believe based on what little I could recall two decades after I had last studied neurosurgery and neurology. And I knew too much about whiplash impact injuries through abusive head trauma cases I took care of day in day out. I held onto the hope for a year, my brothers longer, and my poor mother declined before our eyes, still alive, but the life in her rarely surfacing to remind us that a vague ray of sunshine is still in her...

When she dresses up as she did for my niece's wedding in 2014 and "submits" to putting on her dentures, she is almost back, through time, as her usual self

 

The second non-professional visit to Turkey was two years after the first one, when my father struggling with Parkinson's disease died of chronic subdural hematoma following a fall, a type of insidious slow-developing bleeding around the brain elderly may suffer from with impact trauma. When my mother had had a lovely childhood, roaming their farmland, busying herself with farm life that she adored and craved for all her life, subsequent to which she was a very resilient and self-confident woman, my father was not that lucky.

My mother, age 14 and my father age 27, during their engagement ceremony in 1957: No wonder I became a child abuse pediatrician!

His mom and dad did not enjoy a happy union and there was sibling discrimination in his family, his older brother glorified and my poor father put down and humiliated even into adulthood. As a result, he was an unhappy man, who didn't trust himself and needed constant validation and did not treat my mother as she deserved. Engulfed in his traditional upbringing, he oppressed me to the greatest extent, which didn’t help our bonding during my adolescence, either. Thus, unfortunately, he wasn't my most favorite parent. As I was heading to Turkey at age 45, I knew I had to experience his total loss in the years to come to appreciate what good he had given me, which understanding evolves to date. On the plane, I was shedding tears for not grieving the loss of a parent... Forgiving him would come in a few more years when I understood how deeply he was hurt himself. We now enjoy a session of remembering our father's funny, sarcastic side every time I go back home over a dinner and laugh our hearts out with his words in his honor and memory, which has been even more healing.

I did forgive my father when I understood all his hurting others was because he hurt deep inside so much when nobody understood

 

This most recent trip to Turkey on the other hand is dictated by a wonderful event that I knew would make all involved extremely happy: The second youngest of our five kids, Gulce, now a beautiful 28 year old woman is getting married to Oguz, the love of her life, in Cesme, an hour away from Izmir, Turkey on the westernmost “finger” of a three-finger peninsula, right by the water, in fact on the water! They couldn’t have chosen a better wedding place than this where people drink The Water, eat The Water, savor The Water and long for The Water in whatever they do, wherever they go, on whatever land they live, just like I…

Our five kids: Zeynep, my daughter and oldest of the clan, Umut, Ekin, Gulce, the bride, and Baris, interestingly they are in decreasing age order from left to right!

And this is where our dear Gulce will get married to Oguz, right on The Water....

 

ISLAMABAD PAKISTAN 2018 - 3 - BRILLIANT AND WISE PROFESSIONALS OF PAKISTAN

I was invited to Islamabad for a national conference/workshop on how to establish multidisciplinary response to child abuse and neglect. After a full day exploring the surroundings of Islamabad, today is Day 1 of the workshop. Pakistan finally is moving toward a systemic response to child protection issues with the support from UNICEF. Farrah Ilyas, the Child Protection Specialist in UNICEF Pakistan gives the most impressive speech throughout the morning. What is interesting is that there are many female leaders running the show including the actual leaders of this two-province piloting of systems response to child abuse and neglect, who are barely in their late 30s, early 40s. UNICEF Pakistan staff also overwhelmingly consists of women, bright, well-educated, modest but confident. I feel very close to these women.  

The child abuse workshop Pakistani government organized in collaboration with UNICEF and other UK originated organizations

 

And the males that present their support on the first morning panel are also good people after my own heart. They are clearly progressive men, respecting women, feeling for children, and dedicated to child protection. As a result of this collaborative work, these men and women of Balochistan and Gilgit Baltistan provinces, two most rural and conservative provinces of the country, passed legislation mandating their provincial governments to create management and referral systems for their abused and neglected children. I am so glad I considered coming to Pakistan a second time. With these dedicated bright Pakistani people, I trust, child protection system will change in Pakistan sooner or later.
 

Farrah from Unicef Pakistan is giving her impressive talk when the rest is attentively listening: Notice half of speakers are women

 

Farrah, a competent, open minded, most attractive Pakistani female child protection specialist from UNICEF explains to us beautifully that each of these provinces has passed legislation fully in concert with Article 19, child protection article of the UN Convention on the Rights of Child. It is great news that both provinces have established a child protection commission with local extensions in towns. This is exactly the way I had dreamed it would have happened in Turkey with the Inter-ministerial Higher Council of 2010 and its provincial child abuse councils. Unfortunately, the central council pretty much disappeared over time and the provincial councils became dormant in the last 5-6 years. I hope that doesn’t happen in Pakistan.
 

A scene from Day 2 of the workshop 

Professor Gini and I cover complementary components of the larger project UNICEF and Oxford Policy Management group that provide Pakistani stakeholders technical assistance have been envisioning. It is a win win, in my mind. Although, politicians that own this pilot project’s public responsibility leave shortly after the first morning panel, those that remain clearly have been and will continue to be the on-the-ground engine of this project, which I will appreciate even better the second day. So, all is good. Before and after my lecture, I learn more and more about the nitty gritty of what is being envisioned for this pilot project. And I like what I learn and what is being planned.
 

The lady in the center is a Senator from the federal Pakistani government responsible for information systems in Pakistan

 

A senator, who is the leading force of information management systems in the country is the highest “honorable” represented on the panel. She is an attractive woman (which Pakistani woman isn’t, anyway, I haven’t seen such exotic beauty all in one space for a long long time…), who wears a light pink silky elaborate shalvar kamiz topped with a transparent shawl that sits as if to say “I am about to leave you and expose your beautiful hair”. The shawl covers barely 1/3 of her hair on the back before it flows onto her shoulders and back. I suspect conservative religious people despise this type of attire since the way Pakistani women use textile in covering their body with what they leave uncovered, makes them more provocative to tell the truth!

Notice some of the women in the group using very sharp make up 

Anyway, this attractive woman also has her lips rouged with bright red lipstick and evocative eye liner that make her eyes all the more attractive. She is not alone in how she makes up her face; those Pakistani women, who don’t mind exposing their face to the outside world are all very bold in how they use make up. Just like their senator, they don’t shy away from bold colors, in fact that is what they wear almost exclusively. Not only their make up, their clothes included. The  most colorful silk, chiffon, satin dresses they wear is song to the soul, especially when you think of the most traditional women, who are confined into their pitch black chadors… When I admire vocally, one of the workshop attendees with her outfit’s bright, cheerful colors, she tells me coquettishly “Why not? blues and grays are for men, right?” I want to give her a hug for this subtly rebellious standing her ground with her colors…

 

A young, more modern woman from Day 2 of the workshop

The second day of the workshop is even more impressive, which allows me learn Pakistani panorama of work force, culture, the role religion plays in the society, women’s role in this post-Benazir Bhutto Pakistan, resilience and brilliance of Pakistani professionals.  There is one woman, who is covered with almost one piece of cloth from head to toe only exposing her eyes and hands to the outside world. She surprises me the most; when it is her turn to tell the group what she took from day 1 in a sentence, she gives a mini speech, with the most confident and competent sounding voice and composure underneath that cloth.

One of the smartest leaders from day 2 turns out to be the woman in orange attire with only her eyes exposed, but she surely was very effective

Although I don’t understand what she states since she speaks in Urdu, I can tell she is one tough cookie. Then I bump into her in the bathroom. She has let the head piece of her garment down. Her face including her eyes has no make-up.  We chat a bit in English, I understand she knows what she is talking about and she makes a lot of sense.  I can’t help wondering how it is that, I can appreciate all these men and women from various levels of conservativeness and liberation and feel at peace with working with any and every one of them toward our purpose of protecting children, but that I have to struggle moving beyond all kinds of biases when I encounter similar men and women in Turkey.

Some of the attendees, men and women, clearly come from a different and more secular cultural background

I have to give credit to myself that I don't know what type of political games are being played under the surface among these people, whereas I see the dirty tricks in Turkey very easily. I know, I won’t find the answer to this question right this trip let alone the solution to my bias in the short term. But, I have a feeling, my encounters in Pakistan will help me move beyond my difficulty with Islam and devout Muslims. 

Equanimity allows to avoid grasping on certain things and rejecting others

What have I learned during this trip? One more time I bow before the Buddhist teaching of equanimity. Pakistan, even its smallest provinces are full of brilliant minds, who are dedicated to the ultimate good in the universe, burning with the desire to protect and provide for children and families, see what is good, what is missing, build on partially existing systems and experiences to implement a true child protection system in their provinces to lead the way for the other provinces in the country. 

I was impressed with so many things about Pakistani culture and society during my first trip to Pakistan last November through Lahore, which is multiplied exponentially during this trip. First and foremost, there is so much diversity in Pakistan, I didn’t know existed. It is very unfair to Pakistan that the West is constantly beating the drum of Pakistan harboring terrorism and not being a safe place to visit. If there is any terrorism, it is definitely a small issue in the periphery of current Pakistani existence, affecting a relatively small portion of the society in their day-to-day dealings.

Internet informs that terrorist activities are relatively common, it surely didn't feel that way...

 

Pakistani professionals co-exist in a wide panorama of political, cultural, religious preferences and alliances. Some are totally secular from their attire to thinking and acting one can easily tell once they enter a space and especially when they start expressing themselves. Some are more traditional in their attire, and perhaps what they believe in and how they live their day-to-day lives. But when it comes to child protection issues, they are right where the most secular ones are at. Then some clearly abide by the rules and regulations of Islam to the T; they start their comments with Islamic greetings such as “Bismillahirrahmanirrahim, Esselamunaleykum”, their attire is close to burka for women, and replete with other Islamic indicators for men. Yet, once again, when child protection issues are at stake, they embrace the same facts and truths and point to similar solutions as the rest of the group. How remarkable...

National and international organizers of the Child Rights Conference held in Lahore in November 2017 during the opening ceremony 

Why doesn’t this happen in Turkey? The Ministry of Health and other governmental structures have implemented the Child Protection Center model under the scientific guidance of a collaboration that I was a part of. However, although short-staffed, they refused to integrate the university based child protection centers to the network of 30 plus child protection centers the Ministry of Health has established; just because the government sees universities in Turkey as a threat to their Islamist agenda.

Closing ceremony of the Child Rights Conference in 2017

This rejection of the expertise of the progressive, secular academics, with whom I worked for years then sent the universities to establish a system parallel to what the government established, but without the efficacy at least on clinical arena that the governmental network has. I hope the newly established Child Protection Commission will fix this disconnect between governmental centers and academic centers in Turkey, although there is little evidence that they are moving toward that direction.

Islamabad is beautifully surrounded by high mountains

At the end of the workshop in Islamabad, front line administrators and child protection and education workers were divided into three groups to work on multiple questions that UNICEF and Oxford Policy Management group had generated for them. Once, the report of the first group was being shared with the larger group, I couldn’t help but feeling goose bumps all over my body. This group of colleagues, who very humbly mentioned in the morning that my lecture and its content were an eye opener for them from day I, are in fact in their report, listing what I would have taught any novice group embarking on a brand new child protection project.
 

If only we could all reach equanimity under any circumstances 

“They are my equals”, the only difference between them and I is that the universe gave me more resources and opportunities to learn and explore; nothing more. We are speaking the same language, thinking about what Pakistan needs to tackle this task in very similar ways, and their plan of action has very few missing pieces that I might want to share with them at the end. The second reporter fills in a few more of the gaps the first one left. The third one weaves in more of what I’d like to share with them.

One of the minarets of Shah Faisal Mosque piercing the sky

I now feel no more than a participant in this huge and impressive work to be done in Pakistan, one who is more than willing to walk with them hand in hand until the mission is accomplished, sometimes by traveling to Pakistan, mostly via webinars. I share with them my feelings, willingness to work together until they are fulfilled with what they will be soon creating. My heart and mind are full of positive, equanimeous, loving, kind energy; I can see my words, instill in them, the same. Faces light up in some with a shy smile, in some with the easing of somewhat tense facial lines, in some with approving and appreciative nodding… Eyes are full of confidence, that wisdom of knowing oneself, yet with validation from a trusted person deepening that knowing…
 

The Hindu Temple in Saidpur, a small village near Islamabad

I know this experience. I’ve seen audiences starting novel child protection work in Turkey, Colombia, Greece, Portugal among others with the same knowing wisdom but still questioning the feasibility of what they aspire to. I’ve seen the transformation of such subtle ambivalence and sense of uncertainty to feeling grounded, to trusting their inner wisdom and understanding, to feeling ready to leap forward. That’s where I left some 50 pioneers from Balochistan and Gilgit Baltistan provinces of Pakistan today. With phenomenal policy management, child protection technical assistance capacities and expertise that UNICEF and OPM organizations are willing and ready to provide to this brilliant group of people, I have no doubt that Pakistan is in the making of a transformed country in terms of how they will soon start responding to child protection issues. May you all find the strength and support you need in your efforts my dear friends...

Life springs off and out of anything and everything in Pakistan like these walls growing trees and bushes!