School Time Again

A Private School in Ankara - claimed to have a high rate of students getting high scores on the university entrance exam.



School here has been in session for a while now. Of course, school in America has been in session for even longer. The past two years the start of school has been delayed by the three day holiday following Ramazan. Maybe next year school will start at its normal time and I'll find out when the normal time actually is!
Everyday I see students in their uniforms heading from home to school, waiting for the school service (we don't have school buses here - if the school is a long ways away students either are driven by their parents, take a bus, or their family pays for a service vehicle to transport them to and from school), or possibly even playing hooky. In the evenings students often head from school to their after school school. No, that was not a typo. After school many students head straight back to school where they sit through classes to help them score high points on...The Test. Oh yes, The Test. We have a test for everything. The Test in one form or another determines where you will go to high school, where you will go to university, what subject you will study in university and whether or not you will be able to work for the government. "Everything wants a test," my friends are often heard to be said.
To ensure that their children succeed on The Test and thus in life, parents will sometimes send them to private schools where the normal day school and the night school are combined into one package.
Kids are still kids. They play football on the street, they wander around downtown together, they laugh on the bus. But they feel the pressure. They know that their lives are determined by The Test. Part of this is fed by the fatalism and the works mentality of the local belief system. Oh the joy we can have, knowing that we do not need to pass a test, that one has already gone before us and passed the most important test on our behalf!

Sağlıklı Olsun

Recently I've had the chance to learn what it's like to be ill in a country that values health, possibly higher than my home country views health. Sağlıklı olsun - may it be healthy. I've heard this statement time and time again when asking friends about babies and children. It'll all be fine so long as everyone is healthy. Earlier today I think my neighbor told me sağlıklı kal - stay healthy. A very interesting comment as I was calling her to tell her about the results of some recent labs that came out not exactly healthy!
This same neighbor worries about my health probably more than my parents do. When I first started having symptoms of an old disease, she wanted to know why I was going to the hospital, what tests I was getting done, if I was happy with my doctor, etc. I explained to her briefly that I didn't want to be on a certain pill any longer because my mom had cancer and this pill increases the risk of cancer. Her response was to tell me that she didn't like all this negative talk coming out of my mouth. In her mind, and in many of the minds surrounding me, if you talk about ill health in this way you're tempting fate. If you just think positively...
It all comes down to one thing. My neighbor (and almost every other person around me) has no real hope in the life to come. This particular neighbor happens to believe that there is no afterlife. The rest of my friends believe in an after-life, but they have no assurance as to whether or not theirs will be pleasant or torturous. So health at all costs. I'm back to square one again - bad test results and not a whole lot of answers but a whole lot of possible labs in my near future (for those who are wondering, I'm not dying but my endocrine system is once again not functioning properly). The difference between my neighbor and I is simple. My hope is not in my health, but truly in the life to come and in the One Who has promised me this life. So next week when my neighbor comes back to town I want to try again to explain why I'm not afraid of being ill. All prayers welcome.

From My Balcony

To Fast or Not to Fast...in this case there is no question

Thursday marked the end 30 days of fasting and the beginning of a three day celebration. People fast from the first morning call to prayer to the evening call to prayer. Right as the evening call to prayer is heard they are once again allowed to drink and eat. Several times during the fast I had a chance to break the fast (I was not fasting!) with friends of mine.
Last year at iftar, the meal to break the fast, everything was new and interesting to me. I had truly in my life never seen quite such an event. This year things were so different. I'm not sure if I can chalk it up to a better understanding of what people are saying, to the ability to have slightly deeper relationships with friends, a combination of both or something entirely different, but it was not so much interesting as a saddening display of works righteousness in my friends' lives.
Now the party is on! Friday I went over to visit friends in another part of town. Typical holiday visits are about a half hour, but this is not a house where I can stay a half hour. This is partially due to it's location, being a bit of a journey from my house and partially due to the fact that they now tell everyone that I'm like their daughter and I've been on vacation with them. So instead of a half hour I was there from the afternoon until late last night. Visitors came and went. We talked, stayed, goofed off and even went over to the grandparents' house to pick up the laundry. One visitor asked me if I wanted to become a Mslm. In her words I would there find freedom and peace. The grandfather asked me if I had fasted this year. I said I had not and he insisted that I should fast next year because it's "sağlam" or healthy, lasting, long-wearing and possibly (at least in my understanding) strong or strength giving. We often refer to buildings as "sağlam" if they are well-built and probably able to withstand an earthquake. I said thanks, but I would not. So he insisted. My friend was waiting for us in the car outside, we had not planned on staying. We said our goodbyes and headed out. I still do not intend to fast next year.
I have peace, I have freedom and I do not need the type of strength that keeping this fast will bring. But it is not my job to "convince" or "argue" with them. Indeed, I am reminded once more of the truth that their eyes must be opened. I must speak, but the Spirit must work.

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.

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

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...