Turkish Hospitality (tea?)

I just received a knock on my hotel room door from one of the men who worked there, wanting to know if I would like any tea or coffee. This is not unusual in Turkey, where showing hospitality seems to be perceived as a privilege and not doing so is unthinkable.














Because of Turkish hospitality, I have had the opportunity to meet and speak with many people, from a Syrian priest in Diyarbakır, to a middle-aged woman near Kaş who looks after her 26 year-old mentally-handicapped son, a ceramics maker in İstanbul just embarking on his career, and a radiologist in Van who spent three days looking after myself and a friend. Anyone and everyone is willing to sit you down and make you some tea for no motive other than that you are a guest.













I’ve had to put aside my skepticism and fear that comes with such treatment. Indeed, I feel that we in the United States can prize our individualism to a fault. By doing everything ourselves, we lose the vulnerability and indebtedness that comes with putting ourselves in someone else’s care. And by being too busy to give our time to guests and strangers, we close off avenues of connections with others.

These connections have made my time in Turkey a more rich and memorable experience. Furthermore, it has shown me that perhaps nothing is more important than other people, and that to welcome others unconditionally is to acknowledge that every person has the capacity to both give and receive, to provide and to need, regardless of one’s station in life.













It would be impossible for me to have successfully completed my project and lived such a full year without the hospitality of hundreds of people. Several people stick out in my mind and though they will likely never read this blog, I would like to acknowledge them: Orhun in Konya, Burçin and Mert in Erzurum, Nadir in Van, the Zoral family and Sidika in İzmir, the automotive man in Nevşehir, the bus company in Batman, the students on the dolmuş in Hasankeyf, Şadullah in Istanbul, Engin Bey and İbrahim Bey in Van, Özgül and Mine at ARI Movement, Hakan in Ankara, Harika in Van, and the hundreds of people who have given me directions or gone out of their way to show me where to go.

“Ne Mutlu Türküm Diyene…”

This phrase, which roughly translates to “how happy I am to call myself a Turk,”is one of the favorite slogans of the Turkish government as well as some Turkish citizens. It is emblazoned on mugs and on walls in buildings. Do an Internet search for this phrase and one finds websites started by Turkish people and others who love Turkey or being Turkish. In the East, around cities such as Diyarbakır and Van, this slogan has been cut into hillsides, visible for miles around.


(This photo is of a Kurdish boy playing the saz. His father is in jail, though I don't know why.)

The interesting part about the latter point is that this exuberant statement of national pride occurs in areas where ethnic Turks are likely a minority. In fact, it seems that Atatürk’s policy of creating a Turk identity where there was none before (previously all had been Ottoman) is unraveling.

The most notable ethnic group living within Turkey is the Kurds, who are a majority throughout much of Turkey’s Southeast, but a large minority in Istanbul. It is not unlikely for a waiter, carpet salesman, or shop owner answer to the question of “where are you from?” with “I am Kurdish.” In Van it seems that everyone is Kurdish, and while Turkish language is written everywhere, it is often that one hears Kurdish spoken. I spent one interesting evening with the contractor in charge of reconstruction of the Armenian Church on Akdamar Island near Van, Turkey. He and his colleague are also Kurdish and proceeded to play Kurdish music (on their cell phones, no less) all evening. They said that they speak Kurdish at home with their families.

(A Syrian priest and his son. They speak Aramaic in their home.)













Kurdish isn’t the only “foreign” language spoken in the Southeast. One is also likely to hear Arabic, especially as one nears the borders of Iraq and Syria. Nor is Arabic the language of the older generation; children are just as likely to speak it. One tobacco-seller said that his family is Syrian by recent ancestry. Others who are Syrian by ancestry are Syrian Christians, some of whom are learning or speaking Aramaic. For a list of many of the languages spoken in Turkey (incomplete, however, for it does not include Armenian, Aramaic, and probably a few others), check this website.

Given that Turkey has Turkish-Armenians, -Bulgarians, -Jews, -Kurds, -Syrians and others, Turkey’s policy of “Turkishness” seems dated, and it appears that many in the population agree. In my opinion, one of Turkey’s biggest challenges in the next decade or two will be to accept the notion that one can be both a Turkish citizen and ethnically something else. It is easy for most Americans to accept this notion, as from birth the U.S. was intended as a new home for immigrants. However, in Turkey the concept of “one Turk” gives legitimacy to borders that were wrought out of war, falsely establishing an historic Turkish homeland. In truth, the nation of Turkey encompasses a multi-cultural region rich in ancient languages and cultures. In my opinion, the sooner the Turkish government recognizes this and develops policies to encourage and protect these traditions, the sooner Turkey will become a thriving and integrated nation.

More to Come...

During the next two weeks, I will be posting the backlog of entries that occured while I was on the road the past three weeks. In the meantime, please feel free to read my article in the Spring 2006 edition of Turkish Policy Quarterly. It contains findings from the first half of my research. The article can be accessed here.