(Hayır for no and Evet for yes)
Sunday is an election here. Everywhere you look there's a sign or a person saying either evet or hayır. It's an unsettling time as there are potentially fairly major changes ahead.
The times are in His Hands.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
The Signs of the Times
(Hayır for no and Evet for yes)
Sunday is an election here. Everywhere you look there's a sign or a person saying either evet or hayır. It's an unsettling time as there are potentially fairly major changes ahead.
The times are in His Hands.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Village in the Meadows
I finished reading a book this evening about a man's experiences as a Peace Corp volunteer in a Black Sea village during the 1960s. Admittedly, much in Turkey has changed since the 1960s. And there are many differences between village and city life. But in some ways Turkey is Turkey regardless of where you find yourself.
I stumbled upon the below quote and it reminded me some of my own experiences over the past year and few months. While I have not ridden in the back of a flatbed truck or lived in a mountain village, I have had to explain myself repeatedly and am still in the process of taking on a new culture and a new way of viewing the world. By God's grace alone, the process of change will continue over a life-time of work and life lived out as a stranger and alien.
"A critical defining element of the two years was the fact that nearly everything about it was an exotic adventure. Nothing was familiar about living in a rural mountain village in a Muslim country where you had to communicate in a foreign language (I never learned another language well enough to use it), traveling on foot or in the back of a flatbed truck, eating local foods or explaining ten times a day who you are. Almost everything that you thought of as a constant in your life becomes variable; something surprising was happening all the time. Our senses were flooded with sights and tastes and sounds and odors that were not unpleasant but were often unfamiliar. Yet the challenge of figuring out how to survive and to travel and communicate was great fun and constantly rewarding, and it left us with hundreds of stories to tell in later years. Ultimately, it all became quite comfortable. Part of the reason is that if you are interested, Turkey is a comfortable place and the Turks are comfortable people. They show their pleasure when people find pleasure in them. Part of it is that you learn to do things you don't know how to do, and you learn to figure out things you don't understand. That makes the adventure less intimidating and more memorable." - Village in the Meadows, Malcolm Pfunder, co 2007
I stumbled upon the below quote and it reminded me some of my own experiences over the past year and few months. While I have not ridden in the back of a flatbed truck or lived in a mountain village, I have had to explain myself repeatedly and am still in the process of taking on a new culture and a new way of viewing the world. By God's grace alone, the process of change will continue over a life-time of work and life lived out as a stranger and alien.
"A critical defining element of the two years was the fact that nearly everything about it was an exotic adventure. Nothing was familiar about living in a rural mountain village in a Muslim country where you had to communicate in a foreign language (I never learned another language well enough to use it), traveling on foot or in the back of a flatbed truck, eating local foods or explaining ten times a day who you are. Almost everything that you thought of as a constant in your life becomes variable; something surprising was happening all the time. Our senses were flooded with sights and tastes and sounds and odors that were not unpleasant but were often unfamiliar. Yet the challenge of figuring out how to survive and to travel and communicate was great fun and constantly rewarding, and it left us with hundreds of stories to tell in later years. Ultimately, it all became quite comfortable. Part of the reason is that if you are interested, Turkey is a comfortable place and the Turks are comfortable people. They show their pleasure when people find pleasure in them. Part of it is that you learn to do things you don't know how to do, and you learn to figure out things you don't understand. That makes the adventure less intimidating and more memorable." - Village in the Meadows, Malcolm Pfunder, co 2007
Friday, August 6, 2010
Weddings!
Last weekend I went to my friend's dad's cousin's relative's wedding. Yes, you read that correctly. And no, I was not crashing the wedding. No crashing necessary here! There are always plenty of weddings to choose from this time of year. The race is on to get them done before the month of fasting begins.
We went into the düğün salonu, the hall where the party would be held, and were greeted by absolutely none of my friend's acquaintances. In a sea of a few hundred people, she knew no one except those she came with. Slowly, as we waited for the bride and groom to enter, cousins, aunts, and uncles did start to appear. And they kept appearing. Here you invite pretty much everyone you know to the wedding celebration. It's a feast! Or sometimes not an all out feast, but it's a party, no less!
The bride and groom at last entered in between firecrackers and immediately began dancing. Their official legal ceremony had happened previously, so this was a time only for celebration. They danced, we watched. More people danced, we watched. The mixed nuts and water appeared. Then the real fun began. The direct translation into English is games, but these are not games so much as regional dances. I rid myself of my embarrassment (yes, I was the only foreigner in the room) and learned to dance.
At the close of the celebration the gold came out. Both bride and groom came to the middle center of the room and put on sashes - the bride's was red, symbolizing purity. Each person who had brought a gold bracelet, a gold piece or money came forward to pin it or place it on the bride or groom. One by one the dj announced the giver and the amount given.
And then, the time came to leave. Now, imagine this event spread out for four days with several other types of events mixed in, way more food, and way more people and you have a village wedding. In some ways a village wedding might resemble the wedding at Cana or and other wedding from Bible times. And as soon as I attend a village wedding, you will know...
We went into the düğün salonu, the hall where the party would be held, and were greeted by absolutely none of my friend's acquaintances. In a sea of a few hundred people, she knew no one except those she came with. Slowly, as we waited for the bride and groom to enter, cousins, aunts, and uncles did start to appear. And they kept appearing. Here you invite pretty much everyone you know to the wedding celebration. It's a feast! Or sometimes not an all out feast, but it's a party, no less!
The bride and groom at last entered in between firecrackers and immediately began dancing. Their official legal ceremony had happened previously, so this was a time only for celebration. They danced, we watched. More people danced, we watched. The mixed nuts and water appeared. Then the real fun began. The direct translation into English is games, but these are not games so much as regional dances. I rid myself of my embarrassment (yes, I was the only foreigner in the room) and learned to dance.
At the close of the celebration the gold came out. Both bride and groom came to the middle center of the room and put on sashes - the bride's was red, symbolizing purity. Each person who had brought a gold bracelet, a gold piece or money came forward to pin it or place it on the bride or groom. One by one the dj announced the giver and the amount given.
And then, the time came to leave. Now, imagine this event spread out for four days with several other types of events mixed in, way more food, and way more people and you have a village wedding. In some ways a village wedding might resemble the wedding at Cana or and other wedding from Bible times. And as soon as I attend a village wedding, you will know...
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Yardımcı Mısın? Are You Helping?
Recently I was in a lesson with my original and now former language helper. We were talking about the question, what does "iyilik yapmak," or "doing good things" mean. Here it is a means of earning sevap, or scoring brownie points with God. My helper said that "iyilik yapmak" usually involves helping someone in need. You have extra eggplant and your neighbor has come into hard times? You share. You have old bread? You give it to the animals in the park.
Okay, so not all that interesting yet. But wait, now she gets to the part where she describes what we as Americans think helping another person involves. Our words. We warn, we thank, we encourage.
As believers our response to those we see in need should always be different, marked by a love for our Maker. This is one way my dear friend perceives the American believers around her, in one way or another.
Life does get complicated. Situations over here are far more gray than the black and white way I so often perceived them to be when I was not the foreigner. My actions have ramifications. But it leads me to ask myself this question: am I willing?
Okay, so not all that interesting yet. But wait, now she gets to the part where she describes what we as Americans think helping another person involves. Our words. We warn, we thank, we encourage.
As believers our response to those we see in need should always be different, marked by a love for our Maker. This is one way my dear friend perceives the American believers around her, in one way or another.
Life does get complicated. Situations over here are far more gray than the black and white way I so often perceived them to be when I was not the foreigner. My actions have ramifications. But it leads me to ask myself this question: am I willing?
Monday, July 5, 2010
When Are You Going To Eat The ONE Clif Bar?
This weekend, in celebration of July 4, three friends and I headed off to Kızılcahamam, a small town about an hour outside of Ankara for some hiking and some good 'ole fashioned girl time. It's never a bad thing for a small town girl to get out of the big city and have some head-clearing time in the pine trees.
Saturday's adventure began with the discovery that the bus to Kızılcahamam left from a different location than it did a year ago and the taxi driver who wasn't sure the bus stop had changed to would be happy to take us there for a "good price". We declined and ended up riding with one who knew where he was going...or at least sounded more knowledgeable.
After arriving in Kızılcahamam, eating a Magnum bar and finding out hotel we went for a stroll down the road that cuts through the national park to the tune of Turkish folk music. On either side of the road, relatively closely packed together are all kinds of picnic tables for people to "make a picnic" or "make a grill." It's better that way - if you've forgotten something, you can always ask your neighbor! And quiet? Nope! Kids running everywhere and out of every other car or so load music.
Later that evening, after a delight supper we walked the streets with everyone else, eating (with everyone else) sunflower seeds and spitting the shells on the street (again, with everyone else). And of course, when we returned to our hotel room we played the requisite card games and laughed the requisite laughs.
Among the many topics of discussion was the Clif Bar I currently have stashed in my kitchen. Who knows how the topic came up. It seems that whenever you get a group of American ex-pats in a room (in this case, four American single worker women) the topic of various and sundry foreign...a.k.a. American...foods comes up. Normally I would bring such a Clif Bar hiking with me, but as there is only one in my kitchen and no easy source of replacement, it waits for the next, longer hike. And when my roommate asked me when I was going to eat "the" Clif Bar, we truly couldn't help but laugh.
Saturday's adventure began with the discovery that the bus to Kızılcahamam left from a different location than it did a year ago and the taxi driver who wasn't sure the bus stop had changed to would be happy to take us there for a "good price". We declined and ended up riding with one who knew where he was going...or at least sounded more knowledgeable.
After arriving in Kızılcahamam, eating a Magnum bar and finding out hotel we went for a stroll down the road that cuts through the national park to the tune of Turkish folk music. On either side of the road, relatively closely packed together are all kinds of picnic tables for people to "make a picnic" or "make a grill." It's better that way - if you've forgotten something, you can always ask your neighbor! And quiet? Nope! Kids running everywhere and out of every other car or so load music.
Later that evening, after a delight supper we walked the streets with everyone else, eating (with everyone else) sunflower seeds and spitting the shells on the street (again, with everyone else). And of course, when we returned to our hotel room we played the requisite card games and laughed the requisite laughs.
Among the many topics of discussion was the Clif Bar I currently have stashed in my kitchen. Who knows how the topic came up. It seems that whenever you get a group of American ex-pats in a room (in this case, four American single worker women) the topic of various and sundry foreign...a.k.a. American...foods comes up. Normally I would bring such a Clif Bar hiking with me, but as there is only one in my kitchen and no easy source of replacement, it waits for the next, longer hike. And when my roommate asked me when I was going to eat "the" Clif Bar, we truly couldn't help but laugh.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Empty Headed Dogs?
Translating can be a tricky job. I'm so not a translator at this stage in the game! But still, things come funny to me at times (including the English language...I don't think we say that things come funny to us - that would be a translation out of Turkish to English!). About a month ago some friends and I came across this sign while hiking. We have a stray dog problem in Ankara. But directly translated - we have a problem with dogs who have empty heads. Stupid dogs? No, simply dogs who have no owners...
Monday, June 7, 2010
Life on the Street
A few days ago I was caught in a rain storm. Now, for Ankara in June this was no small storm. Can we say river in the street? Fortunately when the thunder started I was still in my language lesson so my language helper called me a cab. From the front gate of her building to the cab I crossed a small creek, a.k.a. the road. Right across from me was the weekly outdoor market, or pazar as we say here. Normal activity had paused for the down pour. Women and men, shoppers and pazarcıs (men selling items at the pazar) were huddled under the umbrellas in attempts to stay out of the rain. By the time I arrived home not too many dry people could be found in the streets of central Ankara.
Right now so much of life is lived outside. Summer is here, after all! Ankara is out again! So when the rain comes, watch out. And always carry and umbrella.
Right now so much of life is lived outside. Summer is here, after all! Ankara is out again! So when the rain comes, watch out. And always carry and umbrella.
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