By CATHERINE SALTER BAYAR
“I’m Kurdish. What do you know about the Kurds?” the attractive man at the sidewalk café asked me. Scrambling for a witty response, I said the first thing that popped into my travel-weary head.
Uzbek rings of folkdancers by CS Bayar
“Lonely Planet says not to talk about the Kurds while I’m here in Turkey. All I know from the media in the States is that they’re either refugees or terrorists. Which are you?”
Perhaps not the smartest thing to say but it turned out to be the opening volley in an on-going cultural exchange between me and this man, now my husband, for the past 11 years.
Six months after this encounter, I left behind relative prosperity and my own 1200 square feet in a trendy Los Angeles neighborhood for an untested business and romantic relationship. I moved into an apartment building with his traditional southeastern family of 15 on the outskirts of the western Aegean town of Selçuk.
Its population of 25,000 with large Balkan and Kurdish minorities includes a growing expat community, and Western travelers swell the ranks from April to October when they arrive to see the Greco-Roman ruins of Ephesus.
Settling in to a new physical location has been far less complicated than adjusting to different social and familial expectations.
I find I’m often out of my depth in making sense of my role as a member a Kurdish tribe. Cultural immersion can sometimes be a total submersion.
How deep are you willing to plunge into the crosscurrents of another culture?
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California native Catherine Salter Bayar creates knitwear, seeks textile treasure, lives near the splendid ruins of the ancient city of Ephesus, and writes about it all in her upcoming book, Weaving Our Way Home.
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As a designer for so called “minority” or ethnic theater I’ve wholeheartedly emerged myself in different cultures. But that was while I lived in the Netherlands. The plunge was hypothetical, literary rather than literally, even when working with people of different ethnic backgrounds than my own. After all what I saw and experienced was already manifested in a hybrid form; the immigrant after all tends to adhere to the old in the old country, while influenced by the contemporary in the new.
By comparison my immigration to the United States has demanded a far greater willingness on the part of the other and me to recognize how foreign I —the Caucasian English speaker— am. It’s a strange notion to sit at turned tables, while in a way not really considering your position as changed.
Judith, I experienced a similar hypothetical immersion while living in the big cities of my native California, which perhaps prepared me for my later hybrid life by being a mix of so many immigrants. But as you say, turning the tables to become the foreigner is the real challenge. The position of ‘odd one out’ becomes all the more disconcerting when you’re not feeling like a stranger.
As Rose mentioned on another post here at expat+HAREM, it is amazing that such contradictory ways of living do exist in Turkey, as they exist in every country. After reading about yet another Kurdish girl horrifically killed by her family for “talking to boys”, I am at a loss how to deal with the latest black and white label the media may now give the Kurds: “Honor Killers”.
Like my clueless comment above to the man who would someday be my husband, I’ve read countless equally uneducated comments in a wide spectrum of newspapers and blogs these past two days. I’m bracing myself for the inevitable question I’ll hear:“How can you live with people who think it’s honorable to kill their children?” much like I’ve been questioned “How do you deal with living with Muslims?”.
The truth is yes, my Kurdish family comes from a patriarchal, tribal culture (honor killings are against Islam, but tribal honor trumps religion). While I’ve seen amazingly fair ways they have dealt with family disagreements, I’ve also seen altercations that trouble me greatly, and have witnessed firsthand police walking away because “it’s a family matter”. I also have seen the huge influence that women have in holding families together and keeping the peace.
Would anyone in our huge tribe be capable of an honor killing? Are the odds greater than in any other culture? Violence against women is a human problem; it happens anywhere men and women are not considered equals, and even then it exists. It’s more common where education is limited and economic options are few. Not that these conditions would ever begin to condone what happened to Medine Memi. This is not the last time I’ll be posting about this…
Sarah, it’s true we have to experience a culture to understand it. The challenge is to see it, and ourselves, in shades of grey. I agree with Anastasia – those nuances come with time and a deepened perspective. And I’m not so sure we truly assimilate in America as much as past generations did – the culture seems more fragmented each time I return to visit.
Like Elmira’s post today, communities that are isolated or desperate to hold on to their roots can be tough to fathom for those of us outside them. In the case of the Kurds in Turkey, I see it as similar to what many ethnic groups in America have experienced: wanting to keep their particular culture strong while at the same time wanting to be accepted, not shunned by the larger community. That definitely takes more thinking in shades of grey!
Just like I want to keep what makes me unique, much of which I can attribute to my open American upbringing, I also hate to be thought of as an outsider in Turkey. It’s human nature, I suppose, to take pride in one’s individuality yet to long to belong to a group.
Catherine,
Interesting about the word play, I know that in Iraq the situation for Kurds is much more positive, and I hope that it continues this way.
A person can only understand a culture that it directly experiences. For those cultures that are “closed” because of political or economical situations it is much harder for interactions to occur. In open countries like America, it is so easy to assimilate and lose the very thing that makes you unique.
“Refugees or terrorists” is such a black or white way to look at a group of people, and instinctively we know we’re missing something. But then, if as you say immersion can be submersion, even the intent to grasp a culture or people becomes a black or white situation. Sink or swim. Where do the shades of grey go….perhaps they return with time, and distance.
Thanks Catherine, I’m looking forward to hearing what you’ve experienced and how it jibes with conventional guidebook wisdom.
For those unfamiliar with Catherine, she also writes about her Kurdish family in Tales from the Expat Harem. See Chapter 6: Kin, Cauldron & Kismet for her “Water Under the Bridge”.
Sarah, it’s still true that no one wants to talk about the ‘Kurdish Problem’ (that phrase alone does not bode well for honest dialog – in Turkish, as you may know, the words for ‘question’ and ‘problem’ are only one letter off, so these words get interchanged quite a lot). But this past year with the Turkish government’s ‘Kurdish Opening’ (a more hopeful way to put it!), things began to change…only to be squashed by some stupid moves on both sides. I’m still hopeful, though my husband is not.
Laura, yes, as much as I love to travel and learn about the places I’m visiting, that experience does not compare to living somewhere day to day, learning the language, adapting to the rhythm of the place instead of imposing your own. I urge you to keep trying and learning – you’ll be changed forever.
when I was 18 and visited Turkey for the first time, I wanted to learn more about my family, who were Iraqi Kurds. I was in the wrong place, in Istanbul and everybody just closed their faces at the very mention of kurds/kurdistan, I was young. Looks like a fascinating book.
Love this post! I also clicked on the link about cultural immersion and ended up chasing it to all different types of ideas about truly and actively living in the place you visit. Using it as a learning experience – something I always try to do, but now have even more ideas. So excited!