Stories make the world go round – or – where the Karagöz puppets came from

Posted on January 4, 2012 by lizcameron

Oh the opportunities - to write in the golden light - from Sharp Pen, Dull Sword at this link

Yesterday, I wrote about Elif Şafak‘s words on the importance of stories – on breaking down walls, expanding circles and enjoying in the overlapping of those circles.  Although you wouldn’t know it from my current profession, a professor of statistics, research methods and policy analysis, I do firmly feel that stories make the world go round.  The telling of stories is very important to me as a teacher trying to engage students in a difficult topic (though I have not yet tried fairy tales) – but also as a human living life.

Cover of The Violet Fairy Book from Andrew Lang

As a tiny child, my sister and I sat enthralled, in the bathtub, as my mother read us stories each night.  She conned us into take our nightly bath for years – just so that we could hear the next chapter of……..the entire Chronicles of Narnia series, all of the Little House on the Prairie books – the massive set of Oz books nobody knows beyond The Wizard of Oz – and so many more.  The stories even continued once we got out of the bath and into bed, snug as a bug in a rug.  Our last story of the night was always some sort of fairy tale.  Yes, we read through the horrific Brother’s Grimm (nightmares and all) – but also through the various tales of Scheherazade in the Arabian Nights and, volume by volume, the Andrew Lang series of fairy books – one per color (silver, gold, violet, etc.).  It was these stories – and their impossible opportunity – that captivated me the most of all the stories my mom read to us.  Why can’t humans turn into birds and fly? Why can’t animals talk? Why can’t magic mirrors speak? Why can’t time freeze in place? Why can’t tree spirits plant flowers?  Why can’t purple be a character all on her own? Etcetera.

These fairy stories set my imagination on fire – and as a child I became quite a writer myself, publishing poetry in a few journals around age 10 (terrible stuff, don’t know why the published it).  I was in special writing classes – and writing camps as a fairly young person – but as an unpopular and old-fashioned sort of a kid – this was not really cool.  In perhaps one of the most regretted mistakes of my life, I turned down entry into the coveted “art band” cohort – a set of classes just for kids skilled in the arts and writing.  Only the “weird” kids joined it.  Alas, it was a long time before I embraced my inner weird – and by that time – the opportunity was all gone.

As life wound its way along, I lost my writing practice as Ann Lamott might call it – and moved on to other things…but have returned to creative (vs. academic) writing over the past two  years as an outlet of sorts.  The Karagöz puppets have been the means to this end – always inspiring me to set my pen to proverbial paper on this laptop – and to write about what is going on – to be more present than my breakneck-paced job and life afford me.  I am writing in order to try to take more control of life.  To actually, well, to actually live life a bit more and observe upon it and to learn – and to just plain have fun, let’s be honest.

As I am writing this, Esma the hippie puppet is enthralled in one story from the Silver Fairy Book – she just lifted her head to tell me – “so that’s where you got the idea of rose petals and jasmine blooms coming out of my mouth and ears when I am elated and happy – from this story of the curse of the princess who have frogs and toads come out of her mouth – and then rubies and diamonds-  gosh – that couldn’t be very comfortable, could it?” Leaving Esma to her enjoyment of the story,

So, thank you fairy stories, for opening my eyes and my writing hands and mind.  And thank you, Karagöz puppets, for taking me the rest of the way on the beginning of this new writing journey.  Karagöz snorts at this soft-hearted patter.  Hacivad Bey nods his head approvingly, stating the following from the Mevlana himself: “Your eyelashes will write on my heart the poem that could never come from the pen of a poet.”

Related articles
Posted in On writing about my life with the Karagöz puppets, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Elif Şafak on stories as wall-breakers: Crossing circles, moving between

Posted on January 3, 2012 by lizcameron

Today’s post is written to honor the power of storytelling – and specifically stories that cross circles, move between spaces (or ghettos) and break down walls. Let me start with the circles.

My students often come up to me and explain that they are not doodling circles because they are bored – but because it helps them focus. I have always doodled overlapping circles in my notebooks. I tell them, “no problem, I totally get it.”

But today’s post is also to honor an author that I have found inspiring as I make my way along this roadtrip called cross-cultural marriage. In addition to loving the writing and thinking of Elif Şafak (Elif Shafak in American parlance), perhaps the circles she refers to in this TED talk were particularly enthralling to me (see this link or the video, above) as a lifelong doodler.

In her talk, Ms. Şafak addresses the importance of moving beyond ghettoized circles of crossing cultures and both sharing and feeling stories – as I heard her. I hope you will enjoy Ms. Şafak’s talk on the politics of fiction. She speaks in a most passionate – and breakneck pace of a way – as if the words cannot come out fast enough. I thought of the world spinning and her words trailing quickly around the equator when she was talking, that was the image that came to mind.

While my writing is mostly non-fiction… (the puppets are screaming at me now) OK, OK, the puppets in my head are literary mechanisms to embody the jumble of cross-cultural confusion that exists in my overly analytical head as one half of a Turkish-American couple on a life-long roadtrip. As a matter of full disclosure, I had been thinking about the Karagoz puppet characters as the voices in my head for some time – but once I read Ms. Şafak’s book Black Milk: On Writing, Motherhood and the Harem Within, in which she becomes acquainted with the tiny ladies in her head, genies of sorts, this whole project crystallized. If other people write about people in their head, well, I can too…it isn’t EXACTLY that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” but it is close as I already had the idea. 🙂 So, thank you Ms. Şafak, for your bravery in letting those little ladies out into your mind and onto the pages.

…so as I was saying, whilst my writing is MOSTLY non-fiction, I found Ms. Şafak’s talk to echo some of my own feelings about the importance of sharing my own story, and giving voice to the joys, challenges and in between moments of cross-cultural life in a globalized era.

I’ll finish with Ms. Şafak’s final words from her talk…

“In the end, stories move like whirling dervishes, drawing circles beyond circles. They connect all humanity, regardless of identity politics, and that is the good news. And I would like to finish with an old Sufi poem: “Come, let us be friends for once; let us make life easy on us; let us be lovers and loved ones; the earth shall be left to no one.”

Thank you.”

Related articles
Posted in Introducing the Karagöz puppets, On writing about my life with the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , | 22 Comments

Karagöz is dying for some Şalgam suyu…what about you?

Posted on January 2, 2012 by lizcameron

Istanbul :: şalgam & turşu

Well, Karagöz really worked hard on acculturating to his new part-time life in America last night.  He snuck away from the quiet night that M. and I had at home, through the floorboards, and joined our neighbors in their after-midnight-after-party.  It clearly involved a lot of booze.  And, of course, last night was New Year‘s Eve, so you know what that means, bubbly. Karagöz had never had anything other than rakı (rah-kuh, which is like ouzo), and had no idea how terrible champagne can be the next day – even compared to rakı.

I woke up to him moaning, head in hands, really moaning in pain and considering the choice between Hacivad Bey’s sensible Advil packet and Esma’s herbal tinctures which smelled, well, vile.  She’s all for the herbal cures (e.g. a mix of sage, garlic, lemon and tea that she learned from her Annanne or granny).

But Karagöz only had one person in mind, and that was Mercan Bey, who is staying in the compound these days, getting all the spices in for a bit of heat in the long, cold and wet New England winter.  “Mercan Bey – Efendi!” Karagöz cried out, wretching and dry-heaving a bit in his evil state, “I need your şalgam suyu (shahl-gahm soo-yoo). It’s the only way to address a – how do you say it – a hang-under?”

Entering the room at the corner of the door, Mercan Bey surveyed the scene, raised his finger as if to say “wait, please, with patience” and turned on his heel with a quick step towards the kitchen.  I followed him, out of curiosity, as he is the one who always helps me to expand my horizons. “I want to introduce you to “Şalgam Suyu” – or black turnip juice – it is a very popular drink in Turkey for those who drink too much rakı. It is actually made with something called a black carrot, the likes of which you have not seen around here very much. While my specialty is spice – I also know how to make this necessary post-party item.  Let me make it for Karagöz, the poor sot, at least it will soothe his misery enough for us to have peace from him on this New Year’s Day.”

Pretending I know nothing of this  from Mercan Bey, who M. cannot sense, I ask M. of his own experience with this elixir. M. tells me that this drink is best known in the Southern part of the country (look near Gaziantep or Adana), that it is a salty and sour and spicy drink that is fermented in wooden barrels. M. says it is totally delicious and that he used to drink it while he was in the army (required for all Turkish young men) in the southern part of the country which tells you something about what he was up to on his days off, I suppose – and who could blame you, if you heard his insane stories about the Turkish military…but writing about these things will likely get us censored, so enough of that.

As Mercan Bey handed Karagöz some of the drunkard’s next-day elixir, Karagöz regained some of his impishness, and winked with wicked wit, saying “Can you say “pucker up, anyone?” And all was well with the world as the şalgam suyu went down the gullet.

Posted in Cross-cultural learning moments, Turkish Food!, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments