Fighting the good fight

Before I left for my semester abroad in Turkey in the Spring of 2007 (ages ago...) I attended a pre-orientation session that attempted to prepare me for all of the vast and challenging differences between American and Turkish culture. Although there are obvious differences, I felt like they were exaggerated in order to better prepare us for our big adventure abroad. Yes, some women cover their heads. Yes, some people pray 5 times a day. (Don't tell anyone but people do that in the US too...) But my first encounter with Turkish culture was not shocking at all but rather incredibly warm and inviting. It was not until after I returned to the States and took a series of in depth courses on Turkish government, history, and culture that I begin to fully understand and appreciate all of the idiosyncrasies of the collective Turkish identity.


The big sore spots of the united Turkish nation are the Armenians, the Kurds and the nature of secularism. At Georgetown I wrote a series of papers on these issues, which I would be happy to share, but for the sake of time and general interest I will try and keep this entry to recent and ridiculous personal experiences.


The Armenian Issue: During the Ottoman Empire Turks and Armenians lived together in relative harmony (relative being the key word) until the great expulsion of the Armenians between 1915-1918, an issue that continues to serve as a tremendous source of conflict between the neighboring nations. There are still a great number of Turks that have Armenian ancestors, however the majority of them consider themselves to be Turkish through and through. My real estate agent was an exception to this majority.


I first met Can Bey when I wondered into his office with a Turkish male friend of mine who was helping me look for apartments. Can Bey did not have anything that we were looking for so we left and continued the search. A few days later, I wandered back into his office and only realized I had been there before about 10 minutes into my second cup of tea and the conclusion of my well rehearsed "I am an American, teaching English at a private elementary school who wants to live in Kadıköy with another female American teacher" speech. Let's just say it's far more impressive in Turkish... So anyway, I was desperately trying to sell myself to this man and get him to help me because I had been turned away by a number of other real estate agents who did not rent to foreigners (charming people) because foreigners, especially women, will use their apartments to have relations with a number of random men and shame the rest of the apartment building. Lucky for me, Can Bey was a decent elderly gentleman, who appreciated the fact that I spoke Turkish and was very helpful in finding me an apartment in a safe, quiet and affordable area. After we went together and looked at the apartment (the one I am currently living in aka the lovenest) we went back to his office to discuss logistics. He took a long sip of his tea, an even longer drag of his cigarette, glanced out the window, turned dramatically towards me and said, "Sarah you are an American, I am Armenian. I understand your situation and I know what it is like to live as an outsider. We will get you this apartment (rough translation from Turkish)." Apparently in his eyes, deep-seated culture and religious conflict between 2 nations was akin to whatever he perceived to be my daily struggles as an American girl living in Turkey (being perceived as a promiscuous foreigner?). So what does one say to that? Yes thank you, I appreciate all of your help Can Bey and I will see you tomorrow...


The Kurdish Issue: The Kurds are an ethnic minority who have lived throughout Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey for centuries. They are commonly lumped together under one monolithic identity but in reality there are 4 different Kurdish languages, all of which are not mutually comprehensible. The two most common dialects are Kurmanji and Sorani, but I have also met a number of Kurdish Turks who speak Zaza. Kurdish is considered a rather stigmatized language because it had been banned since the start of the Republic and has only been legalized within the last decade or so. As a result it is almost impossible to find a book, magazine, or newspaper written in Kurdish. Most of the Kurdish Turks I have befriended can speak Kurdish but are unsure how write it. The majority of the staff at the hotel where I stayed this summer was Kurdish and as a result I have had a bit of exposure to Kurmanji and Zaza. I really really want to Kurmanji and have this fantastic plan of going and living in Eastern and sitting and having long chats with the amcalar (a term meaning uncle but you can basically call any elderly man amca) and learning how to cook with the teyzeler (aunt, same deal as amca) and hearing stories of their parent's adventures in Turkey during the Ottoman Empire. I'm thinking first I'll try and learn Turkish and then put the moves on Kurdish.



The other day I was visiting a friend at her family's office where she works with her father. This is the same family who took me and Hazel in the night we were homeless. During this particular visit our friendly chitchat somehow turned into a heated discussion about whether or not there was such a thing as Kurdish culture. The father was arguing that Turkish and Kurdish are the same and I, of course, was respectfully arguing the opposite. Our little 2 person discussion quickly grew to a room full of 6 or 7 people, who all crowded in to hear what the silly American girl thought she knew about Turkey. My friend's father called downstairs and had the building's security guard leave his post and come upstairs to talk to me because he was Kurdish and apparently was going to reinforce the belief that not only was there no such thing as Kurdish culture but there is no reason for me to want to learn Kurdish. The security guard only added to the complete pandemonium because he embodied all of the extreme stereotypes that many Turks attribute to the Kurds; loud, difficult to understand, very dark complexion, and extremely argumentative. I couldn't really understand the majority of what the security guard said but I'm pretty sure he was loving the fact that I knew how to say a few things in Kurdish and that I was arguing with his boss about how the Kurds have been historically repressed throughout the region and are often viewed as second class citizens.

My big moment came when I interrupted the conversation, which at quickly spiraled out of control and politely asked my opposition (in what I perceived to be fantastic Turkish), "may I ask you a question?, if Turks and Kurds share the same culture and history then why was Kurdish banned at the beginning of the Republic and continued to be an illegal language well into the 1980's?" BAM. I thought I was totally back in the game but then my friend's father turned around and pulled a giant picture of Atatürk out from behind his desk and hit me with the big, do you know who this gentlemen is...? Do I know who Atatürk is? These people clearly had not realized that 1. I was Turkish in another lifetime 2. I have studied Turkish history and most importantly 3. anyone who has been to Turkey and possesses the gift of sight is familiar with Atatürk (because he is in every shop, building, school, and there are probably statues of him every two city blocks in Turkey). We ended the conversation prematurely, both because we weren't really getting anywhere and also because my friend wanted to go get some tea and leave work.

Needless to say there is still much more to be said on both of these issues and as my Turkish improves I plan on talking to more people and trying to build a more complete and circumspect picture of the who, what, where and why of these invaluable pieces of Turkey.

Testing 1 2 3

After a great deal of resistance to the idea of a blog I have finally given into the inevitable take over the technological revolution. When I first moved to Istanbul, I deluded myself into thinking that I would be able to write weekly or even monthly emails giving family and friends updates but as the school year starts I am finding it even more difficult to motivate myself to sit down and type out emails about the going ons of my life. O zaman (therefore) blog it is.

Living in Kadikoy, a quasi-hipster area on the Asian side of Istanbul is just as wonderful as I thought it would be. Although there are a number of yabancilar (foreigners) wandering around, it isn't nearly as overwhelming as Sultanahmet (home of the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque) or Sirkeci, where shopkeepers automatically start speaking to you in English and ignore my attempts to engage with them in Turkish. Despite being surrounded by Turkish I am finding it difficult to build on my language skills outside of my mastery of the basics. For example, when I go into a restaurant I can order food, chat it up with the waiter and ask for the check like a pro but there are times when I'm talking to someone and I literally cannot understand entire sentences or things they are telling me. It's both embarrassing and frustrating and I've decided it's time to seek outside help aka a tutor. I'm thinking one of the dark, mysterious and male variety but right now as long as they speak Turkish and will let me pay them next to nothing, they will suffice.

My school started last week and it was rocky to say the very least. I am the native English teacher for grades 1-5 and each grade has at least 3 different levels of English. I probably have about 100 something students and meet with each class twice a week. The week before classes started I was supposed to go through a week of training but I really just went to school and helped the other teachers cut, color and paste things to decorate their classrooms and the school itself. The first day of class started off really exciting because all of the kids were so psyched to be there and see their friends again. As an opening ceremony of sorts, everyone met in the parking lot in front of the school and they kids recited the Turkish school pledge:

Türküm, doğruyum, çalışkanım. Yasam küçüklerimi korumak, büyüklerimi saymak, yurdumu, budunumu özümden çok sevmektir. Ülküm, yükselmek, ileri gitmektir. Varlığım Türk varlığına armağan olsun.

The basic gist of the which is embodied in the first sentence, "I am Turkish, I am right (true/correct) and I am hardworking." This pledge has been recited in all Turkish elementary and middle schools since the beginning of the Republic (1923) and is one of the many great legacies of the great founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. A few kids then recited what I assumed to be famous poetry (emphasis on assume because I did not understand anything) and then the gym teacher rallied the students, cued the cymbals and electric keyboard (anxiously waiting on the wings) and the school sang a song that sounded like a military march but was probably something similar to our National Anthem. It was really interesting being an outsider and watching this all unfold. It all seemed like a very strange exercise to me, with a hint of militaristic socialism but when I thought back to my elementary school experience and how every morning we would all stand up, put our hands on our hearts and pledge allegiance to the United States of America, I guess it's not that strange at all and only appears so to those who were brought up with different (yet equally conformist) customs.

Ok enough of that, my kids are great. Some are totally mystified by the fact that I am America and only want to ask me about what the US is like and whether or not I know Kobe Bryant (which of course I always reply yes, because well, I'm pretty sure I do know Kobe Bryant). Some classes do not understand a word of what I say and just look blankly and disinterested while others have a solid command of the basics and can follow my instructions. It is definitely going to be a challenging year, balancing the different levels of English and continuing to pretend that I don't speak Turkish or understand their never-ending pleas (teacher I do not understand anything you are saying). It's hard now but I know in the end that if they think I do not understand Turkish then they will be forced to think of ways to express themselves in English and will eventually benefit from it....until that moment I will just have to live with a tremendous amount of guilt and heart-wrenching pain when I look at my sad and frustrating little students. The great thing about the student-teacher relationship in Turkey is that outside of the classroom they are very loving. My colleagues are constantly hugging and giving little kisses to the students and the students in turn come up to us and give us big hugs and kisses. It's wonderful. The other day I was sitting and eating lunch and I had a group of girls just come up to me and give me big hugs and ask, "how are you Sarah Teacher?" (In Turkey surnames are not used and one would call their teacher Sarah Hoca or Sarah Teacher. The Sarah Teacher thing seems like a language cross-pollination gone terribly wrong but who am I to say that they should change it?) It's pretty adorable and it really helps counter the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that tends to occupy the majority of my day.

Tomorrow starts week 2 (Classroom Rules). Keep your fingers crossed for me that I figure out what to do with these kids for another week before the official curriculum begins.