Settling In

Today, as I was talking to my co-worker, I realized that I am beginning to have real friends here. The Turkish society values hospitality so much that a visitor always feels welcome. A visit from a friend or a stranger is seen as a joy and treated as such. Instead of the fold-out couch, the owners' vacate the best bed for the visitor, he or she is to eat first, eat most, and eat the best food, and to be made comfortable in all ways. Although the hosts may be curious about the visitor, they are careful not to ask questions that may be thought impolite.

All this, however, is something different than real friendship and trust which is slowly built and earned, necessarily taking time. Yesterday a co-worker who has always been more than kind to me, but always in the role of fixer and helper, confided in me some sadness she had been experiencing - a love lost in a car crash years ago, and the effects that still linger today. I realized that we had broken through a barrier, that somehow she saw me more as an equal and less of a dependent. Although I think she and my other office mate will continue to call me "yavrum" when they talk about me in the third person (a word meaning young one). My Turkish is getting better, however, and I'll be listening for it.

During New Year's Eve I shared a meal with three friends, Evren, Essen, and Okan. Okan told me to remember that I am not alone in Turkey. If I ever need anything just to call. I realized that Evren and I had gotten past the "polite friends" stage; I know that she has a silly streak beneath her dignified exterior. As a result I have adopted her family's nickname for her "tavuk" chicken. And Essen felt comfortable enough to tell me that I had totally messed up the Turkish coffee, and that I must let her take over if, that is, I want it to be drinkable. . .

I realized today that the call to prayer rarely wakes me up anymore; in fact, its familiar sound has mostly faded into the background. It no longer feels like an expedition to go to the pazar and bargain for vegetables, and the bus system has become (at least semi-)comprehensible. As these friendships slowly grow and I learn my way around the city, the culture that was so foreign to me just three months ago feels a little more like home.

Cultural Relativity

Today in linguistics class we had moved on from the relatively academically intensive subject of phonology to dialects and language policy. We discussed “standard” dialects and how they are really just dialects that have been socially engineered to be perceived as prestigious. I love the quote I heard once, “the standard dialect is a dialect with an army behind it.”

We then moved on to banned languages. I know that I am teaching linguistics, but I can’t help but try to sneak some cultural relatively into the curriculum. I discussed the history of banning languages and gave examples from the other countries; In the past, the U.S. banned American Indian languages in federal and state schools located on reservations and punished students for speaking these languages. Currently there are state and federal laws “English only” which effectively tie the hands of educators and compromise the education of children who weren’t taught English in their homes. In France, the government is trying (unsuccessfully) to keep the French language “pure” by banning American words and other nonsense. I then turned to the students and asked if Turkey had any such history of banning languages (knowing full well that it has a very recent history of banning Kurdish). I was met with blank looks all around. Nope, Turkey has never done such a thing.

Because I have been teaching this group for 12 weeks, I felt emboldened enough to suggest that they might be overlooking some historical facts. More blank looks.

“Kurdish?” I said.

“Oh, Kurdish isn’t a language. They don’t even have a writing system.”

“That is to protect the republic. . . .”

I asked them to put their Turkish cultural values aside for a moment and to become scientists, which is probably enough to have me forcibly removed from the country. Luckily I had a podcast on hand in which a linguist disabuses listeners of some commonly-held beliefs about language. No, the Eskimos don’t have 50 words for snow, all languages are equally complex and descriptive, one dialect is not superior to another, all languages change over time despite language “purists” who believe they shouldn’t, etc.

It is funny, because the students easily came up with examples from Bulgaria and Germany in which Turkish had been banned, but when you ask Turks to objectively look at their own country’s history, there is this huge blind spot. I don’t know if it is because I am an outsider and they just don’t want to talk to me about it or if it is something Turks have not been trained in – cultural relativity. I sense it is the latter.

It reminds me of when I was at the Fulbright/ELF orientation in Ankara. The Turkish government sent representatives to present about the Turkish educational system, the government, and the art and history of Turkey. The experts were all Ph.D.’s, all Turks, well-versed in their fields, politically astute, and used to speaking in public. One Fulbrighter asked the presenter about the Armenian situation. I can’t remember if she used the word genocide or not, but it resulted in a 20-minute tirade that made everyone else in the room squirm. At one point he described how big and powerful Turkey is compared to how small present-day Armenia is; the implication was clear. As for me, I was dumbstruck. I had never seen a public speaker become so enraged. At any moment, I expected one of his companions to remove him from the stage with a cane or something, but in fact, one other panel speaker actually joined in at the end and reiterated some of his ideas.

My Flat

Some people have asked to see what my place looks like. Here it is; not very traditional Turkish, but you can see the extra rooms where you will stay when you come visit (yes you).