Besides noticing the wild dogs and terrible bureaucracy, I suppose I have not really distinguished Turkey from any other place. In fact, Turkey provides such a unique opportunity for cultural exposure that I imagine it a wholly different experience from such excessively visited countries as France and England.
Most Americans qualify Turkey as a “Muslim” country. While I can admit there is a very, very large population who would agree, I now also know many Turks who would be mortified to hear their country so described. I feel it safe to say that Turkey is not the complete bastion of Islam that many people believe.
Even so, Turkey and its people are definitely influenced by Islam. In every town, it is possible to hear muezzins’ call to prayer. In every restaurant window you can find an iftar menu posted. There is a cami (mosque) on every block and even in the metro station. Women with headscarves walk along the street as commonly as women without them, and “MashAllah” and “Allah korusun” are painted on trucks and minibuses — and these are just the most obvious things.
Several of my friends have introduced life as a Muslim Turk to me. Not everyone prays five times a day or keeps away from alcohol or tries to exactly follow the rules, but the most essential aspects of the religion are preserved. Of course, I am only speaking of my friends who are admittedly religious and Muslim — I emphasize that there are many, many Turks who are not Muslims, who are only nominally Muslim, who are atheist or who rather vehemently oppose the religious nature of many Turks’ lives.
Through my friends, I have had a few special experiences. Two related to hoca, Muslim teachers who are not official leaders but are in some ways similar to itinerant preachers and psychics. The second week after my arrival, a well-known hoca was coming to town, and my friend’s family had decided to go hear him. I put on a headscarf and joined my friend’s sisters and mother in the women’s section.
The hoca spoke in Arabic and Turkish, so I understood nothing, but my attention was captured by the women and children around me. They paid great attention to his words, but the meeting was in no way as formal as I expected. People were whispering, standing, entering and exiting the entire time. Yet they all heard his message. Honesty, charity and love were all emphasized (nothing new there!).
When he was done, I was in for a surprise. In a mad rush, all of the women attempted to exit instantaneously — and the most violent in the crowd were the wrinkled and bent-over women who I feared would break — until one of them shoved me.
My next experience involved my friend’s sister, who has health problems and another family member who is facing some life obstacles. We packed into the car and drove 40 minutes to the hoca’s house. There was a large room with cushions along the walls and a low table in the corner. The hoca spoke with his “patients,” then wrote for a bit. I am not sure if it was in Turkish or Arabic, but he folded each piece of paper very small and wrapped it in tape. He then poured water in a bottle and read the Qur’an over the water.
The affected people were to take the papers and place them in a small leather pouch to wear at all times. Their mother was to say the names of Allah 500 times each day over the water and give it to the patients to drink. This was the hoca’s prescription. And, though I can say one of the patients does not follow it exactly, the mother has put faith into the hoca’s aid, and the family is awaiting results.
These are only my experiences in Turkey. I am sure many Turks will wish that I did not share them, but America has lots of similar traditions and activities.
All Turks are not fervent Muslims and not everyone wants to walk around with a headscarf. Even so, the Muslims in Turkey give a special character to the country, and I am immensely enjoying the chance to live in a place so distinct from America.
Jessica’s column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at j.walker@cavalierdaily.com.
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