The Contrasts and Acceptance of What Is June 1981 The contrasts of the push for modernization and the preservation of the antiquities (which were hundreds and thousands of years old) were amazing to try and absorb. As was the millions of people all trying to get somewhere quickly in Istanbul. It was mind-boggling and overwhelming, exciting and exhilarating, all at the same time. To integrate me into the culture, I had daily lessons in the Turkish language. The old IBM punch cards from Orhan’s Fortran class were used as flash cards, with 15-20 word pairs per card. One card was Fruit, another Colors, another Numbers, etc. I had time in the kitchen learning how to cook. I was to call Orhan’s mother ‘Anne’ (pronounced ‘Ah-nay’) and Naci Bey (pronounced ‘Nah-gee Bay’), Orhan’s father, ‘Baba’. If you have heard of Ali Baba, it is another way of saying ‘Papa Ali’ – Ali is as common a name as John. Anne would go to the market each day. She took me and Alev (pronounced “Ah-lave”—long A in lave) Orhan’s younger sister (by 2 years). They had small markets, with fresh produce outside in the open air. We, children, would also go down the street with large containers (3 gallon equivalent) to get spring water from the faucet strangely standing alone mid-sidewalk, but tapped deeply into the aquifer below. Teen girls and young women, boys and men, would walk down the street arm in arm. At first, I thought this odd. What was their relationship? I was suspect. My application of the American cookie-cutter mold of ethics and morality was being shaken rudely. I could see the pervasive influence of Islam in the country’s culture, rituals and pulse of life. Just like I now see and understand the Christian pervasiveness in the culture of the US. I had never thought about it before, it just was . . . and it was all I had known, up until now. That afternoon, Anne took Alev and I shopping. We went to a department store (new to this suburb of Istanbul). It was as large as a small Ace Hardware store but very large for a sprawling city of millions of people. Real estate was very expensive. Everything Anne would buy for Alev, she would buy a similar item for me, but in a different color. By the end of the day, we were decked out and ready for the sea. We would leave for the family chalet early in the morning. The late afternoon ended with pungent strong tea in a little cay bardak (‘chai’ or tea glasses) with a silver spoon and two sugar cubes. Anne had picked up some sesame cookies and fruit from the store. The winds had shifted and it was cooling down. The recorded voice of the imam called from the minaret of the local mosque. It was a distant sound but one I had come to love in such a short time. It was the call to prayer. And it called forth five times a day. Everyone in the household was immune to it. I went out on the balcony and joined the silent vigil. I know my prayer of gratitude was heard. I was so grateful for this experience, for Orhan’s family and for my many gifts of learning of the day. CMGoodnetter June 22,2013
Posted on: Sat, 22 Jun 2013 16:06:02 +0000
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