Eggs and Ottoman music: On cultural responsivity gone wrong in one Turkish American marital moment

Posted on December 24, 2012 by lizcameron

Syrian music band from Ottoman Aleppo, mid 18t...

Syrian music band from Ottoman Aleppo, mid 18th century (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today, I really have to laugh at myself, along with Karagöz who is, of course, really howling at me (he tells me, “M’lady, I’m laughing WITH you, not at you.” Yeah right, Karagöz, I know you and your ways. Sigh. But in any case, maybe I am just too hyper-critical of myself this morning, but sometimes I think I may just try too hard in my work to be a culturally competent Turkish-American partner/wife.

I am reminded of when my sister and Italian brother-in-law, who were visiting Istanbul to see us, made fun of me for trying to get him to pronounce “Topkapı Palace” (pronounced “Top-kah-puh” forget even going to Sarayı (“sah-ray-yuh”), the Turkish word for it) vs. “Topkapeeeeee Palace.” I think language is important, and how you use it shows respect and allows for cross-cultural understanding even on minute levels. I also get riled up about tourists who don’t make an effort to pronounce things correctly, am I alone on that? Kenne, the Queen of Manners Puppet and Maven of the Maintenance of Etiquette and Ladylike Behavior, gives me a nod of approval at that.

Now, as you may recall, yesterday, I reflected on our annual Christmas tree argument, and how it was not, as a matter of fact, rooted in cultural and religious differences, but rather environmental and gendered ones. Karagöz in particular was the puppet yelling loudest about my need to “take it easy” on the cultural competence analytical thinking front. Well, never to be outdone (“or just DONE,” Karagöz snarks,) I did it again this morning. But this morning, the issue was not cultural competence – it was the effort towards the new hip phrase in my field – cultural responsivity. You can read more about this new term in my evolving page on the topic, but basically, I think this one is better than the latter.

Kenne, well known to be the self-imposed Queen of Manners, Etiquette and the Maintenance of Ladylike Behavior, and who re-arranges her title on at least a thrice-daily basis, sat atop a stove observation post this morning, making sure that I cooked the eggs properly.

So, as I cooked a special breakfast this morning, before M. headed off to his art studio, I overheard M. howling like a laughing lunatic over something on the Internet, I presumed. I figured it was just the latest Turkish futbol-related joke or scandal. Meanwhile, in order to honor something I know M. loves, I found the “Turkish classical music” station on Pandora. M. is often distraught that the Arabesque trend in Turkish music, and engages in a lot of recherché du temps perdu on this matter.

Thus the effort to feed him some classical Turkish favorites along with his egg whites. Of course, I have no idea if what Pandora considers classical Turkish music is indeed what it purports itself to be. Nonetheless, Kenne, the Queen of Manners Puppet and Maven of the Maintenance of Etiquette and Ladylike Behavior, gave me a nod of approval from her observation tower on top of the stove (I was not cooking eggs the Turkish way, she was telling me, and I was ignoring her with glee).

Staggering in the kitchen on the way to set the table, M. appeared before me in a teary fit of giggles. Pausing, M. pressed the giggle-pause button as he gave me a quizzical look. “What music this is? Why this, I don’t know, Arabic music maybe, canım? Sighing, as I nested my spatula before turning his way, I in a rather maudlin voice proclaimed “ I thought you loved Turkish classical music? I thought it would remind you of happy times at home?” “I am not sure this is Turkish classical music, canım,” he said gently, squinting into the iPhone to see the artist’s name. “Do you like it?” I questioned, with an overbright and hopeful look on my face. Ever blunt, M., the calls-it-as-he-sees-it type, just indicated “no, not really,” before quickly returning to the subject of his mirth.

SIlently, I remembered how my first attempt to bring Turkish music to our home included a CD of what I did not know he hated – Arabseque style. Zooks, thwarted again. I should know better, I thought, I see my students make dumb mistakes like this all the time. Not the end of the world, but…then tuned in to M.’s question to me “Now let me tell you – do you know of this, who’s on first, what’s on second thing, canım?” M.’s giggling and laughing continued, as the tinny sound of a ney slithered along in the background, replete with the little chorus of dancing lady puppets swooning on the chair below the phone – one of their rare appearances out of their self-built harem in my purse (other than the early morning çay delivery service they provide my slow-to-awaken mind).

“It is Abbott and this Costello who made this first time? Jerry Seinfeld re-does it – and I must watch it again.” After making a quick study at table setting – I heard the laughter continue with the recently remade version of the classic comic sketch including Martin Short, Jimmy Fallon and Jerry Seinfeld, among others. “Next time,” the academic over-thinker in me thought, “I’d better do more research on which aspect of Ottoman classical music M. likes. This was a cultural responsivity fail.”

I had to laugh at my attempt to be culturally responsive – to offer something of M.’s culture that I have learned that he loves – and M.’s absolute disinterest as he embraced an iconic American classic and its remake. The infamous Kenne, Queen of Manners, et alia, snapped me to attention so I would not burn the frittata – while simultaneously praising me for doing what a good American wife of a Turkish man should do, namely, in her words “make him feel at home!”

Zenne, the nervous nellie puppet, quivering with anxiety like a bowl of fresh quince jelly at her somewhat feminist assertion this morning…

And then something curious happened, Kenne’s handmaiden, Zenne, the nervous Nellie puppet who regularly jiggles with anxiety like a bowl of quince jelly, evidenced a new lead, saying “perhaps ‘home’ means many things in between and among Turkey and America? Maybe you don’t need to make such an effort to be culturally responsive – I mean – he isn’t asking for that at all!”

As she spoke, I saw that this little lady puppet was shaking, eyes down, afraid her mistress would overhear her blasphemy – it was the closest to a feminist statement that this traditionalist ruled by the ultimate traditionalist had ever uttered. I gave her a big hug (well as big a hug as you can give a tiny imaginary puppet) an changed Pandora over to the Flamenco station. That music reminds me of my Granny (Anane) and Mom (Anne) always listened to while ironing – go figure. And, true to form, Safiye Rakkase, the vainglorious dancing puppet is, after all, sashaying around the room with her castanuellas in hand!

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Posted in Cross-cultural learning moments, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 205 Comments

Christmas tree: On overworking cultural competence in a Turkish American marriage

Posted on December 23, 2012 by lizcameron

My great grandmother's mercury glass Santa ornament from circa 1899. (Dark and Stormy Image by Liz Cameron)

My great grandmother’s mercury glass Santa ornament from circa 1899. (Dark and Stormy Image by Liz Cameron)

As an academic social worker, I am trained to the gills on the need to encourage my students to work towards “cultural competence,” as they work with people from a range of cultures and sub-cultures. And of course, although I question the concept on a number of levels, there is a lot of good buried in it. And of course, I do my best to work on “cultural competence” with my Turkish husband – who I often feel is more American than Turkish. I am sure he would agree. You can weigh in, dear, if you like.

So, today, I am going to address how I am a slow learner, especially when it comes to cultural competence in the Turkish-American context. My slow learning is usually due to my ability to over-work and over-think things. I am, after all, trained to over-work and over-think everything – that’s my career as a researcher, teacher and academic community member.

I have mastered the basics of cultural competence in Turkish-American land – greetings, simple praise for food, identifying which futbol team my host/hostess is connected to in order to avoid loud Turkish debates, figuring out whether someone is too Kemalist or too pro-AK Partesi in a too out there way so we can be sure not to offend them in any way, or whether they are in the Armenian genocide denial camp. It can be a minefield out there, but mostly in the futbol arena (all I have to say about that is “Cim bom bom!”). What I have not mastered, I have come to realize, is when something is NOT about culture. Yesterday, I learned that in our marriage, the Christmas tree is NOT a cultural issue.

So, yesterday afternoon, we finally bought a Christmas tree. Until this year, I have thought our annual arguments about this item was some manifestation of our Turkish-American cultural and religious differences. Every year, I remind M. that Saint Nick (Santa) came from Turkey after all – so he should embrace that aspect of Anatolian culture given Santa’s relationship with trees – whether that began in Anatolia or somewhere in the Black Forest. And, I feel I have to remind him that the tree is a symbol of something hopeful, and it gives me something to meditate on as a process through the past year – and these past 44 years. And the glowing lights are calming. And sometimes the dog likes to sleep under there, which, yes, is pretty cute.

But this year, I realized that actually, our annual argument is not a battle rooted in cultural, nor religious elements. Rather, I started listening to M. and realized that for him, the thought of wasting a tree in a planet facing deforestation and global warming is abhorrent. And, of course, he complains about picking up tree needles in May. “Aha,” I thought with glee, “this is a battle in honor of all that is green and environmental.” So, I thought I would give thanks to M. for relenting on the green front – and figure out a way to offset this year’s environmental destruction next year.

However, Mercan Bey, the Arabian Spice Trader Puppet, was sitting on the shelf all afternoon, observing. He tried to convince me that he feels this year’s Christmas tree battle led me to realize that M.’s resistence to the tradition may also be a gender-based thing. “M’lady,” he comments softly, “I’ve been all over the world at this time of year, delivering various spices to this culture and that – and I see it as a gender thing.” I didn’t buy his argument – until the following happened:

Karagöz jumps in here “no patience, M’lady, you talk tooooo much, I’ll tell it for you, fast, while somersaulting!

And here’s his version of the story:

“Tree parked in front hall, abandoned. Snigger. M’lady roots around basement like a truffle pig searching for tee stand, lights and ornaments. Whoop! M’lady bats eyelashes at M., says ‘bring the poor thirsty tree?'”

Karagöz does somersault #1

Reluctant Turkish futbol watcher sighs, retrieves heavy bundle. M’lady and M. make mistake of collective effort to place tree in stand – pointless argument #1. Whee! M’lady snips reminder to M., something about ‘important part of my culture.’ Sigh! M. agrees, pointless argument #2 ensues.

Karagöz does somersault #2

M’lady sitting maudlin under tree, thinking of childhoods past, M. sitting maudlin by TV, thinking about global warming and the needles he’ll have to vacuum up and the futbol that he missed during pointless arguments #1 and #2. M’lady more maudlin thinking of her parents’ arguments about tree upping. Why these Americans so focused on trouble tree? Dratted dumbies!
Karagöz does somersault #3

M’lady thinking ‘Is this a cross-cultural issue or what? Maybe Mercan Bey is right.’ Why she so overthink it? Typical. Doorbell rings – blond angel lady arrives – a glowing light lady M’lady call “best friend.” Karagöz no have such one. All huggy-huggy, M’lady and M. ‘fess up about tree troubles. Glowing lady throw back her head with belly laugh, Karagöz like this, says ‘in my childhood home in Europe, as soon as decorating-the-tree-time came around, all the men beat it, post-haste, to the farm, leaving it to the ladies.’ All laugh, M’lady think secretly, “OK, Mercan Bey, you win,” as he winky wink at her, throw her some new cardamom seed varieties he found at the Indian store yesterday.

Karagöz, now dizzy from somersaulting, curls up by the dog, under the tree, and crashes into a deep slumber.

Lesson of the day ends with M. having the last word – something recycled into Turklish from some of my Dad’s last words with me: “Take it little bit easy.” And Yavaş, yavaş,” or “slowly-by-slowly,” I’ll try.

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Posted in Cross-cultural learning moments, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Weekly photo challenge: Surprise – meat across the street in Little Armenia

Posted on December 19, 2012 by lizcameron

20121223-174809.jpg

Two dudes with a dead lamb, casually draped over the shoulder of the hat guy – in LIttle Armenia. (Image by Liz Cameron)

Well, for this week’s WordPress photo challenge, the theme is surprise.  Now, dear reader, I’ve been pretty stumped on this one – and couldn’t come up with anything but the most mundane – you know – the surprise of dewdrops on a cobweb in early winter and some such.  It felt trite, and cliché, and as I have been enjoying joining in with his tribe of photo-obsessed WordPress bloggers, I wanted to continue my new tradition.  You can click for my entries on “reflection” and “delicate,” respectively.

Now, as I try to keep all of my posts related to the topic of this blog, a roadtrip through one Turkish-American cross-cultural marriage – it took me a while to figure out which photo I would like to share.

Finally, early this morning, it hit me.

20121223-174822.jpgEarly this fall, I was shopping for some of our favorite Turkish sour cherry jam, olives, fresh savory pastries and white cheese at the local Armenian market (where the owners speak Turkish – and had a summer place down the street from M.’s family, as it turns out).  As I sat at the stoplight, car full of delicious scents, I had a surprise – two big “American looking” dudes, were walking in front of my car with a dead lamb casually thrown across their shoulder.  While this is a common sight in Turkey (well, in more rural parts of Anatolia from my experience), it is NOT a common sight here.  We are, in this century, and perhaps in my social class, way too disconnected from where our Christmas lamb roast ACTUALLY originates.

So, after catching my surprised breath, I got out my iPhone camera just in time to catch them crossing the road. Then, I just reminded myself that I was in Boston’s “Little Armenia” and drove on home as the puppets all looked on as if *nothing* shocking had happened.  They didn’t even deign to comment.

Posted in Turkish Food!, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments