Şekerleme: On the work of both rest and cultural competence in Turkey

Posted on December 15, 2012 by lizcameron

Now, if I had this in my backyard, I would have no problem with workaholism, no? Must make a living, though.

Well, this week has been a full and deep one, as I have contemplated both work – and a bit on rest as well. I have noted that there are differences in approaches to work between east and west, as is evidenced in my marriage from time to time.

And I have also discussed, much to my embarrassment now that I am becoming aware, that I used to see work as relaxation – must be the Yankee work ethic upbringing? But let me stop on that point, on relaxation. As this reminds me of how I learned of that wonderful thing the Turks call Şekerleme (“shehk-air-lem-may”).

Now, this word comes from “Şeker” (“shehk-air”), which means a kind of sugary candy…I guess a nap is a really nice thing to take, akin to something sugary. The Karagöz puppets, wise in their ways of the world, roll their eyes at me, as if I am stating the obvious.

Basically, in many parts of Turkey, it is so hot (or humid) in the summer, that most activity slows down or stops during the hottest hours of the day, when the sun is high over the heads of the populace. Some people sleep and some people just take quiet time to read or do their craftwork, for example. It is, tabi canım, just like siesta in Latin America.

Now, Before my first trip to Turkey, I did a lot of fast work to “get up to speed” on the customs of the country – as of course a good girl who attempts cultural competence at any and every turn must do.

And it was through this effort, that I found a certain book that filled me in on ALL the right details about Turkish cultural etiquette, including şekerleme. “Naps,” I thought, “that works for me.”

Of course, I must admit, despite my good intentions on the road to workaholic hell, I worked through that whole vacation, laptop in hand whenever down time was up. Pathetic!

Those days are done, canım benim.

But let me diverge a bit from work, workaholism & noontime naps, and talk instead about the work of cultural competence (which İ think is a flawed concept anyway) and the related dangers of buying into the advice of any cultural etiquette book – and for this, I will tell you how just as my e-friend over at Turklish, I too fell pray to some of the stereotypes and misnomers found in one particular book on the culture and customs of Turkey – aptly (hah!) named “culture smart.” Now as a maven of etiquette at my worst, of course, I bought this book as well.

At this point in my writing, Kenne, the Queen of Manners and Maven of the Maintenance of Ladylike Behavior Including Cross-Cultural Etiquetts of All Shapes, Forms and Types, throws me a headlong glance, wondering if she is seeing the slob she critiques most days – but applauds the effort, although it is in the past.

Here is the book in question:

L., the authoress of Turklish, read in this book that Turkish women take great pride in having lovely, manicured nails at all times, and of course, to make every attempt to fit in, she got the manicure of a lifetime – replete with hard-to-remove gel polish. You can read the slightly cringe-worthy yet hilarious and self-compasionate write-up of L.’s first trip to Turkey to meet the family, realizing too late that her perfect gel-polished nails were a too far on the side of neon pink – causing her to be referred to in terms of those nails amongst the extended family for some time to come.

I can relate, as I had a nail polish experience of my own with M.’s family, but I could never do it the justice that Turklish does, so please check out her writing. The one thing I – and the book – did get right, however, was that Şekerleme is totally alive and well – in the leisure class, at least.

Perhaps I need a little more Şekerleme in my life these days – both literally and figuratively.

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Posted in Cross-cultural learning moments, Gendered moments, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

On the work of meditation: A Karagöz puppet battle of epic proportions

Posted on December 14, 2012 by lizcameron

20121214-111714.jpgLater today, I am heading out to my first-ever Buddhist weekend meditation retreat in central Massachusetts. I’m a little nervous, but let me tell you the karagöz puppets that accompany me everywhere are even more nervous than I am.

Last year, another close friend took me to a daylong meditation retreat – he said “Liz, you really need this, you need to come to this daylong retreat with me and learn to meditate. No is not an option!”

And so I did and it was a shake-up good experience, but what I found so hard about the work of essentially relaxing and tuning in, was that I could not even find my own breath which was the central purpose of the type of meditation we were doing.

It scared me that I was that out of touch with my body or my mind or both – I wasn’t even sure how to refer to it all. It was just me on the gerbil wheel with the Karagöz puppets flying around the gerbil wheel as they held on for dear life to stay with me in my constant mad dash aka my life at the time.

And of course the sea changes that have happened in the past year – especially in the last six months with the loss of my father and this shoulder injury and my midlife work crisis – well things are really changing. And I think I do need to stop and not so much relax, but really tune in to what’s inside of me and what I’m disconnected from.

So given that December’s BlogHer NaBloPoMo topic is on work or contemplating work, I am choosing this time to contemplate on the work of meditation vs. today’s other work-related prompt.

Before he left this morning, M. had a lot to say about meditation. He sat with me very serious and sparkly, “you know, I’m glad you’re doing this for you. I guess I’ve just always known how to meditate.

Frustrated, I said “you meditate when you’re doing your art? Or looking at Turkish soap operas on the Internet?”

Ignoring the bait, he said “I meditate almost every moment in my life to clear my mind and just be present in that moment.”

Looking at him askance, a bit jealous, I posited “I guess you’re Buddhist,” a little bit teasingly, knowing what his reaction would likely be. And it was.

“I am not a Buddhist, I am not anything, I am just me. I’ve seen enough of what organized religion or spirituality can do to damage things in the world. And I want none of it.” I remember that he is likely referring to the Iranian revolution that happened in the country so near him – during his formative years.

In my mind, I’m horrified because I’m sure the Buddhists would be horrified to hear this view of his – peace-loving bunch that they are. But mostly I just focus on how I’ve found this guy who can do the impossible, or what the impossible is for me – to clear my mind.

There is nary a moment that goes by where my academically trained and perhaps overly analytical brain is assessing at least five different things and running two different experiments.

It would be such a relief just to clear my mind and focus on the present in a way that wasn’t analytical. I am hoping that some of M.’s innate skill at meditation will slink over my way. So I’m ready to go to this Buddhist meditation retreat now.

Now, I may be ready to go to a Buddhist meditation center for the weekend, without a electronics, without distraction, to eat delicious vegetarian food, to learn about Buddhism, something I don’t know much about, but I’m not sure my Karagöz puppets are. They are protesting a little bit.

Karagöz is flipping and turning and somersaulting in protest. “Meditation? Pshaw! My expertise is banshee behavior, that’s my specialty and ain’t no way I’m gonna sit silently and listen for my breath, I mean why would any idiot do that? I just want to be an agent provocateur and maybe I’ll just run around the meditation room to wake everybody up so they can’t listen to their breath and can’t focus on being mindful. I’ll whistle & fart & belch for human ears to hear. I need to keep going, I need to get going and keep going – I need to instigate instigate instigate! I resist this meditation retreat, I am not going unless I can raise hell!

Tiryaki, the opium addict puppet, has just taken his first toke of the morning to calm his nerves and sooth his soul. So he is a different story. He is at his best just after his toke, before he nods off into a drugged sleep, falling into the arms of the addiction that has carried him for so long. I suppose he’s a metaphor for my addiction to workaholism these days as I don’t touch the stuff anymore.

Anyway, Tiryaki, as you may recall, is sort of a surfer dude and so he says “dude, man, yeah, I like Buddhist meditation right on, chilling to the max, I can totally get with that. Yeah – and that food man it’s pretty good you know you think it’s going to be all weird and hippie-like shit but actually it’s going to be really really good and you know it’s good to like take care of your body even if you’re addicted to some kind of weird drug. Let’s roll!”

Okay, I guess he’s in.

As for Safiye Rakkase, the vainglorious dancing girl puppet, I don’t hear much from her. I just see her rushing around the house trying to figure out what the best fashion for a Buddhist meditation retreat could be. I remind her that it’s going to involve comfortable clothes and sensible shoes and she shoots me the look of death. But I guess she’s in too, Prada or no Prada.

Kenne the Queen of manners and the maintenance of ladylike behavior and etiquette, is stumped. I actually woke up to the sound of turning pages, thick parchment pages filled with illuminated script and pages of newsprint paper fluttering – all part of her etiquette book collection. She’s trying to find out the proper etiquette for comportment at a Buddhist meditation center.

Throwing her hands up and uncharacteristically giving up, she says, “well, when in doubt, it’s like at a dinner party watch what’s the hostess does and mimic that. So I guess that’s what will have to do. Maybe this is a chance for me to write a book on the etiquette of Buddhist meditation retreat center behavior.” And she scurries off to pack her bags. So I guess she’s in as well.

Then then the nervous Nellie puppet, like a jar of quivery jelly, well she’s anxious and ringing her hands.

“What if, what if, what if we can’t find our breath again. What if it doesn’t work this meditation, what if it makes us feel upset or anxious as we’re sitting there with our thoughts – I know I mean we’re supposed to be noticing our thoughts not engaging with our thoughts, but what if we can’t? Oh my! Oh dear! Oh no! Should I even try to do this if I’m not sure I can? Maybe I’ll fail.”

But I noticed that she packed her bags. And those bags are waiting in the hallway by the door.

As I go into the kitchen, I notice that there is a small circle of puppets sitting quietly around one of the orchids in a circle, their legs are all in the lotus position and I can see that they are meditating. And of course it is these parts of me that are able to do this kind of work, I guess.

The group includes: Hacivad Bey, Yehuda Rebbe, Esma the hippie puppet and Bebe Ruhi, the giggly puppet with Dwarfism. I am surprised to see him there. He looks over at me and says “M’lady, with my disability you need to meditate a lot to get over the ways that people stigmatize you – so this is nothing new to me. If I can do it you can do it.”

And so, with this variety of feelings, we’re all heading over there and we’ll just have to see what happens. It seems to me that the title of this meditation retreat, “Patience: Emptying the ocean with a teacup,” is probably just what we all need.

So, I/we will report back in a couple of days about how the work of meditation went for us. Until then, may you be well. And may you enjoy the posts I have pre-written and put into the publishing queue for the days I am away.

Posted in A Karagöz puppet battle, Academic hell, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Aç ayı oynamaz: A hungry bear won’t dance (on working, relaxing and patience)

Posted on December 13, 2012 by lizcameron

I don’t know if these bears are hungry while they dance – but I take a different spin on the proverb in order to continue making sense of things in my work life (Painting of dancing bears by William Holbrook Beard)

The world of Turkish proverbs is a full one, and barely a day goes by when M. doesn’t let one rip with vim and vigor – much to the delight of the Karagöz puppets, who so enjoy his excitement at speaking these perfect nuggets of truth in just the right moment.

And I can relate to this, as my mother, too, loved aphorisms and proverbs, which she was wont to share on a daily basis as well. So much so, that they have apparently seeped into me and on into my classroom, where my students give me the side-eye on a regular basis, as they have not one iota of a clue about what it is, exactly, that I am saying.

But back to M. and his Turkish proverbs – and how his eyes light up as his pointer finger juts about in mid-air – buoyant at his ability to share – even if he does have to repeat it to me several times in order for me to get the words. I have noticed that M. speaks more rapidly, but in a tone softer in Turkish with me as compared to the boisterous Skype calls to his best friend that I am often awakened by in the early morning.

And this early morning, while there was no Turkish Skype discussion unfolding at a great clip in the next room, it was one of his proverbs that I thought of when I saw Blogher‘s prompt for today’s NaBloPoMo challenge – Are you happier when you are working or relaxing?

As I read the prompt, my mind wandered about the mint-walled-room and onto the towering bookshelf (itself bursting with knowledge that might hold an answer, I postulated) and it was at that particular moment that I remembered that he had once told me something about a hungry bear, and how such a creature will not dance without a good meal in his belly. He also told me of the horrible treatment of dancing bears, and how it made him cry. Now, animal rights and circus bears aside, there is a lot of truth to this. My take on this proverb is that it implies that one needs sustenance to do work, and indeed, on the face of it, this is true.

There it was again, another tough question from those torture-experts over at Blogher’s NaBloPoMo who seem to be asking me all of the penetrating answers I need to sit with – and begin to answer. Unlike yesterday, I didn’t cower under the sheets, but I did think about that dancing bear All day long. And I heard the growl of my tummy, but in my brain.

And yes of course I made myself busy, So busy with this and that all day, that all of a sudden here we are again, at the magic hour of 8:30 p.m., as I begin to face this question in my daily writing practice…and here is what it is that I must admit:

Truth be told, I am both ashamed, relieved and anxious to share My answer – that until recently, I would have said I was a hungry dancing bear of sorts – against the wisdom of the proverb – as I would have said “work is relaxing for me,” and meant it. Really meant it. You know, comments like “oh, a relaxing night for me would be hunkering down for some major data analysis, perhaps grading a stack of papers within an inch of their life while putting the red ink police out of business, or over-preparing my lecture for the next six weeks, And being very attentive to all those late night emails from my colleagues to which I would respond within minutes.” Sick, right?

Yehuda Rebbe, the Globalized, Jewish wise man puppet and Hacivad Bey, the Sufi elder puppet, well, they are both eyeing me suspiciously from across the room, where they are ensconced on the piano window, watching me type. “Please M’lady, show yourself some compassion,” they said as they began to prod me with their verbal cue sticks, “what else?”

“Well,” I said, shuffling my muffled feet here and there under the chair, “I guess it means that I need to break from the circus full of bear dancers, and dance to the tune of a different drummer.”

Nodding in approval, I knew they wanted more, their cue sticks circling faster and faster at me, as if to hypnotize me into finding the right way on this one.

“I need to work – and I need to relax. And I worry that academia is a place that I have trained myself to only work work work to the bone – and not have a healthy balance. Some of this is the institution of academia as a whole, some of this is the particular institution I have worked at – and some of this is my own gerbil wheel of personal erosion, which has me running, endlessly, against expectations real and unreal, internal and external – and fictitious. And most of all, I don’t want to discourage my new e-friend L. over at Turklish, who is at the beginning of her academic career, still in graduate school, working on a balance of her own. This problem of mine – it is my doing – and I need to re-negociate it all.”

Karagoz interjected at this point, “M’lady,” he said, in between somersaults that made M.’s prized collection of Chinese ceramic bowls gyrate on the shelf, “if I had a lira for all the times in the past few weeks you have said ‘need to re-negociate your relationship with work’ – I mean enough already! Just get on with the work!”

Tears began to stream down my face, and I thought, “that crazy puppet is right, and I just don’t know how, but I do believe this is just part of the process. And will I cry at these big realizations all week? Will there be any respite?” My heart began to squeeze, a sign of physical anxiety. But before I reached for the prescription Ativan to quench the feeling, Perihan Hanim appeared again – you may remember her from yesterday, she is my fairy godmother puppet.

Mount Zen II

Mount Zen II (Photo credit: adesigna)

“What you need, dear, is to learn about having some patience for yourself, for the way to become clear. And that is why, dear heart, your other human fairy godmother encouraged you to sign up for the retreat you are attending this weekend, which, of all things, is entitled “Patience: Emptying the Ocean with a Teacup. Ignore your beloved trickster puppet, forget worrying about whether that is an American tea cup or a Turkish çay glass, put out of your mind that you have no idea what all the Buddhist rhetoric in the program announcement is all about and just pack your bags, you are ready to go to this meditation retreat, and with that, you will begin to find that the way, indeed, will become clear.”

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Posted in Academic hell, On writing about my life with the Karagöz puppets, Turkish-American Matters, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments