Misundercommunication and Sharing

Wakey wakey!

It's time for another post. Yay!

This time, it will be about the joys of living in a country where people don't speak your language quite as well as you'd hope...and sharing.

About 1 1/2 hours ago I was reading some articles on the Political Economy of Developing Nations for the class of the same title when I began to fall asleep. I was on my bed, so it wasn't completely unexpected. I decided that I had been relatively productive today, so I put my reader aside, set my alarm, and passed out. My alarm went off (seemingly FAR too quickly), so I turned it off and kept on sleeping. Suddenly, I woke up, thinking, "Oh no! I've overslept my mini-nap. I'm going to be soooooo tired!" Lo and behold, I had slept for an hour and was just entering a hearty REM cycle. Sleep had come over me and, much like a scene from the original Invasion of the Bodysnatchers circa 197?, it wasn't letting go. I forced myself out of bed and was immediately struck by an intense and powerful craving for something - anything - sweet. I've been eating pretty health-ily here and don't have much in the way of sweets - only peanut butter and jelly really, so I definitely didn't want that.

I opened my door and saw one of my sweet roomates named Turkan (Turk-anne). Following her into the kitchen, I plopped down into an uncomfortable molded plastic chair like the pathetic shell of a man to which I had been reduced and said, "Turkan, I need something sweet. Do you have something sweet that I can have?" She acted immediately, bending down to open one of her food drawers, popped up, and presented me with a pre-packaged, single-serving of Nescafe Cafe Latte. I looked up at her and said, "So do you have anything sweet?" She replied, "Sweet." Dejectedly, I accepted my fate and continued to sit slouched in my faded-yellow chair.

Turkan saw how grim I looked and noted, "Fest weekend?" meaning, "festive." I replied that it hadn't really been, but the weekend had indeed been fast at least. "Well, it's cold outside. So be careful, ok?" I raised my eyes to hers. In her final gesture of compassion before leaving the kitchen, she gazed at me with pity and said, "It's ok, Jess. You will be better."

As she left, I sighed a massive sigh, wondering where I had misspoken. I couldn't figure it out, so I made myself an open-faced PB & J, topping it off with some cold milk. It was delicious.



To continue any semblance of a story right now would possible be too taxing for my tired corpse. Thus, I will simply say that I have only experienced extreme generosity in Turkey, not only towards myself as a newcomer to the University neighbourhood, but also between the Turks themselves. As I rode home yesterday from my first football (American football) game (I'll save that for another post), I saw many players taking out packets of cookies, bananas, oranges, chocolate, candy bars, and chips. Each one possessing such wonderous post-game fodder opened his sachet, ate some, and then proceeded to offer it to others in his immediate viscinity. Guys would take a bite or a handful and pass the baggie to the next person. The original provider would get his food back in a significantly smaller state, but had substituted his loss with a variety of other snacks from fellow teammates.

I have been offerred parts of peoples meals on numerous occasions, even when there is obviously only enough for one person. Sharing seems to be a part of the culture here, and I hope that if I only take away one thing from this country, it is a sense that sharing with those around you does two things: it builds a sense of community and it maintains an equality seldom seen in semi-developed or developed nations of today. I think we can all learn something from the Turks on this subject.