Surviving and thriving: Christmas 2011 with the Karagöz puppet troupe

Posted on December 30, 2011 by lizcameron

A Greek image of Saint Nicholas as Karagoz – or vice versa from this link – by David John Berlin Santa Kariagozi

magazine cover
illustration

“The Athenian”
December 1985

ink & gouache

Design:
© David John 1984

When we last left you, dear reader, we were barely squeaking by through the tension-filled days before Christmas.  Karagöz was up to no good, stomping around being grumpy and surly.  I was channeling Zenne, the little puppet who is as nervous and anxious as a shivery bowl of crabapple jelly.

In the end, we “sucked it up” and it was a lovely Christmas Eve and Christmas day, more or less.  Mostly more.   Here is a bit about how all of the various members of the Karagöz puppet troupe addressed their Christmas experience.

Let us begin with Tiryaki, the opium addict.  Not surprisingly, he ambled his way, in a wobbling fashion, into my parents’ home, and after downing a delicious fresh eggnog with rum and shaved nutmeg (supplied by Mercan, the Arabian spice trader you met last week), found a wonderful spot near the fireplace to smoke his opium and nod out for the rest of the ride.

Tsk-tsking as she watched Tiryaki inebriate himself and head for the (proverbial) hills, Kenne, the lady in search of maintained honor was going at her manners lecture at full tilt.  Elbows off the table, mouth closed when chewing, underpants not showing when shirt becomes untucked while making a fire.  During a recent visit to my parents, it wasn’t me who had a heart attack, but it sure felt like it, it was Kenne.  Her heart attack was about M.’s typically brusque, to put it kindly, wording in response to my mother’s suggestion that he have a beer.   His response was “oh – anything but that Sam Adams beer that I hate.”  Of course, this was all that was in the house, and I felt the smarting red of a blushing bout.  As things were not always easy with M. and my family, little things like this set me off. In a show of graceful good spirits, my mother had gone out and purchased three different types of beer – and when she mentioned this, Kenne jumped into my body, moving in contorted facial expressions and arm movements to suggest to M. that he go and get a beer – for good will if nothing else.  To no avail.  Kenne was upset that he did not get a beer, but really, it is not the end of the world.  Sometimes it takes me – oops – I mean Kenne – a little bit of time to chill the h out a bit.  This time, it took my parents to set her straight, telling me to let things go a little bit more and to let the past go.  If only, I thought, if only M. could let the past go – his favorite book is Recherche du temps perdu….so a losing battle.

Easier said than done, Zenne, well, that nervous little lady, she whittled her nails down to the quick over the 1.5 days at home, worrying that M. might insult the family, or that they might trigger him somehow.  She couldn’t enjoy herself much at all, and took regular naps after exhausting herself with anxiety.  This lady, I mean really, she needs to GET A LIFE.

Meanwhile, Safiye Rakkase ignored all of this.  She made her home on top of the stereo, practicing her dance moves to the rhythm of the 5-CD repeating machine by the twinkly Christmas tree.  She donned her bellydancing gear and danced the night, and day, and night away…

Bebe Ruhi, who loves to ask incessant questions, took up with my father, who has a tradition from our childhood which involves asking questions about wrapped presents until he guesses the exact present – a true feat – much to the chagrin of my mother.  It can get old, but he never tires of it, and Bebe Ruhi was glad to make his acquaintance.

Yehuda Rebbe and Hacivad Bey, well, they climbed up to the very top of the Christmas tree, by the star there, and recited religious and spiritual poems for 1.5 days straight, without stopping, in some sort of marathon.  When I asked them why they were doing this, they told me that this was a marathon for world peace (to which Karagöz said “you mean WHIRLED PEAS?” but I ignored him) – and looking at me with a knowing glow, Hacivad Bey said “think globally, act locally, m’lady, aim for world peace in your head, and with your husband.”

Esma the little hippie puppet was stationed, in lotus position, just a few branches below the sage elders, meditating.  When she meditates for long periods of time, tiny fragrant jasmine and rose petals begin to flow out of her ears and across the room – they melt into small breezes as they wend their way towards anyone who is about.  She is a magical little puppet.  I felt those breezes a couple of times.

Karagöz was nowhere to be seen for most of the time.  I think he was totally exhausted, and that takes a lot.  He was mostly snoring and drooling in his sleep, half in a potted plant, half hanging out.  Our dog sniffed at him a bunch of times, although I don’t think he can see him.

But most of all, there was Perhihan Hanım, my fairy godmother, who really knows how to work some good magic.  She brings kekikli breezes from Bozcaada to calm us down in our most difficult moments…and she did not disappoint on Christmas.  We kept noticing that enticing sunshine-warmed smell of thyme around us as we made the fire with my Dad, held his hand when he was too fatigued to open presents or join in much, sip some tea with my mother, hear all about my sister’s church service visit…and best of all…when we witnessed our young friend enjoying the fairy castle we had made by hand and installed for her – complete with a glittery pink tulle bower around it.  A child’s joy at an unexpected bit of magic, that was the most calming and unifying present of all.  Thank you, Perihan Hanım for getting us to see the best in each other and others even in our most difficult times as a couple.  We think that our friend A. is in cahoots with Perihan Hanım, as she and he repeated the same words to us – wishing us a gentle bayram, and to hold a candle for one another.  A lasting image for a young (at heart) couple still in the throes of working out their relationship vis-a-vis Christmas culture…

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Tradition:Karagöz is ready to rock (the boat on Christmas)

Posted on December 24, 2011 by lizcameron

Today, Karagöz is storming around, ready to proverbially

So, it is Christmas Eve, which for me is the favored holiday, one brimming with hope and joy about – tomorrow.  That is the part I like to hold on to somehow.  I see Hacivad Bey nodding his head at me and Esma, smiling at me through her open-eyed meditation. People around the world are preparing for tomorrow with gusto and joy, right? I wish it were so in this house.  As I peel potatoes and stuff the lamb leg with garlic and rosemary, not without a few tears, I think about the others in my life, and what they have been up to in these pre-Christmas days…

The Mozzarella Mamma is preparing the intricate brodo for her Italian Christmas Eve feast – much to the delight of the Roman butchers.  Another friend may be watching her mother prepare Christmas tamales out in the southwestern U.S. and a third is likely watching her neighbors do up Christmas in a large, over-the-top Texan style – will that involve BBQ?  My parents are out delivering Christmas cookies to neighbors, my neighbors delivered Christmas cookies to us, some for us, some for our dog.  My best friend is spending the night solo, in peace, probably reading a good book and drinking some red wine while her daughter visits her father.  The man who helps us clean his house is volunteering at a local shelter, perhaps to erase his memories of his wife’s violent death in their home country.  My student and her family are mourning the tragic death of a young one in the family – at the hand of his brother – an accident.  My teaching mentor is celebrating Hanukkah with her partner and kids, the first after her cancer diagnosis.  Another friend-colleague has celebrated the Winter Solstice with her family closeby, pomegranates abounding.

The lamb, marinating in kekik, rosemary, lemon, garlic and apple-wood smoked salt (with a few tears for good measure, unfortunately)

Kenne, self-proclaimed puppet queen of etiquette and protocol, finds that her head is spinning at all of this – how can the Christmas traditions be so varied? I remind her it is not all about Christmas in the United States – it is about Solstice and Hanukah and other traditions as well.  Incredulous, Kenne asks “Is there not ONE protocol to stick to?”  No,  I say lightly, traditions abound, traditions all around.  I think to myself, “But above all, I am supposed to be happy today, right? Joyous, even?  Isn’t the kernel of joy supposed to be in me and in my interactions – wouldn’t the Mevlana himself say something like this, Hacivad Bey?”  Hacivad Bey sends me a silent messages, and encourages me to look to the light. It’s hard to look to the light when my sister with a disability is struggling, my husband is grumpy and distant, my dog just threw up all over the carpet, the lamb has an unexpected bone in it, the Christmas presents are not wrapped, I never got to the salon to get a much needed haircut and I still have 9 more papers to grade (what better time to write a blog post).  Of course, these are minor problems in the larger scheme of el mundo around us, it is just where I am right now.

And this is when there is a great smash and crash.  All the dishes are falling off of the counter where they are drying – M. was nice enough to do the dishes (which he does often) but stacks them precariously.  What the hell, it’s  our old friend Karagöz – who decided to let off a little bit of holiday aggression (he has had it with the Tree fairy delegation’s Christmas visit) by jumping across the plates, not realizing their chance of falling.  It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Karagöz…he’s been suffering through the introductions of his fellow shadow puppet troupe-mates like a too-long jazz set with too many players, too many solos and too many introductions when one’s hands are red and sore from clapping already and you didn’t much like the band anyway, but wanted to be respectful of their effort and their own joy in the music.

Lately, this independent spirit, well, he’s had a host of family time, taken on a lot of household duties in the face of my overwhelming professional and personal life, experienced a host of worry about difficult problems we face as a couple in the larger family context, had a bucket’s worth of concern about a family member and a good dose of the feeling of powerlessness about some elements of all of this. Lately, Karagöz has had to put up with me being wound up like a spring, exhausted and overwhelmed but wishing I was not even though I can’t possibly do better. It is not easy for him to see his human in this state, I am sure. And it’s the holidays. And we have family in the house, and it is nice in some ways and very stressful in other ways. Mix that all up and you have one hell of a spiked holiday punch.

That punch is so spiked, it is going to break your Grandmother‘s crystal punch bowl set in a hot minute. You better watch out, because there’s gonna be toxic Christmas brew with crystal shards all over the dining room in a few minutes! Ok, I am getting carried away with my metaphor here, Kenne, who wants me to keep up appearances, is afraid that you, dear readers, will think that this means there will be the breaking of glass, by humans, in my household. Not the case. Have no crystal punch set, want no crystal punch set. Just going over the top on the verbose imagery – as that is WAY better than grading my last chunk of papers for the fall semester.

But back to Karagöz, or is it M.? Both of them have had just had enough of living other people’s way, both of them say they are not going to take it anymore, that they want to live life on their terms, with their traditions and in their idea of quiet and about their idea of what is a meaningful holiday without pomp, circumstance and family expectations that leave him (I mean them!) stressed out – and hen-pecked by me as I try to fit us in to those pigeon holes in order to fulfill other people’s dreams for the holiday, and a few of mine, too. I find it odd that the more that Karagöz rages around in his silent glum-ness, the more I notice it in M. Is Karagöz helping me to channel what M. is feeling?

Raised with Christmas as a time for reflection, togetherness and giving back, the holiday holds buttery yellow memories for me, faded like sepia-toned photos from the 1920s in a crumbling album of my Granny’s. My forties bring me the logic that makes me know in my bones that it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be – and that there were plenty of rough edges. But the smell of the fireplace, of the balsam wood incense, the orange pomander balls made by that fire, the tartan blankets and hot mulled cider of my youth – by snuggling up to my Granny who smelled of Florida floral water even in the winter…these memories are alluring. Even more, knowing how important a festive Christmas celebration is to my parents makes me want us to fit in to a too-small shoe. Yet somehow, we as a couple don’t fit Christmas – it doesn’t fit us together, and while M. suggests we just do it separately, it is unfathomable for me to think of this. It actually physically hurts me to think of this.  I get mad at him for even saying so, even though I know people find ways to make deals in a marriage, for the good of the whole.

Shameless product placement - can't hit the pumpkin eggnog with Dominican rum fast enough today!

Saying that I am actually the stressed out one (and perhaps I am, but am not in touch with it), M. has gone silent on it all, but I know how he is feeling as he has let it be clear, so of course, Karagöz is pantomiming all of this out for me so that I can figure it out better. And Hacivad Bey is telling me to look at my part, that maybe, just maybe, I was a bit tense too, and could have let it go when M. didn’t care to see what “we” were gifting the rest of the family so it was not a surprise.   That’s what the puppets do, you see, to help me along sometimes.  I mean really, who gives a hoot OR a holler about that?  M. tells me that my anxiety about bigger things comes out through dumb things like this.  I don’t see  it in the moment, but now I do.  SO, you might say to me, who gives a damn about presents, knowing what is going to whom, really, I mean, come on!  And I might say yes, you are on to something there.

And you might say to Karagöz, “Well, Karagöz, jeez, it’s only a couple of days out of the year to do things the way of your in law family, man, hold yourself together for the good of the whole  – I mean, Karagöz, it’s not all about you, right?” This seems reasonable. Hacivad Bey nods his head and says “Yes, m’lady, it does SEEM reasonable to YOU. But, as one part of this couple, you must honor your partner’s feelings.” I look at Hacivad Bey, the calm Sufi mystic puppet, and say “and how am I supposed to square that with my family’s expectations?” To which Hacivad Bey looks at me and states “the way will become clear.” And I know he is right, and I wish that I did not feel all of this so intensely, and could let it go a bit, knowing of all the troubles elsewhere in the world – cliche but true.

Meanwhile, Karagöz is ignoring my conversation with Hacivad Bey, cursing up a storm in Turkish, with the likes of Ölürken havalanan ruhunu sikiyim to the more benign “Esek oglu esek.” You don’t want to know, trust me! If there is one thing I have learned, it is that Turks have the best-swears-ever. That Karagöz, he might as well say that he’s gonna blow like a volcano – and not as elegantly as the molten chocolate cake one might refer to as a volcano in a too-precious and somewhat expensive eatery. This puppet is “ready to rumble.” Of course, Karagöz is to an extent ALWAYS ready to rumble – but usually there is an element of impishness or tomfoolery in his readiness to rumble. Tonight, it is not like that. Tonight, he storms off to bed in his olive oil bath (to keep himself supple for puppetry, and china stomping). M also storms off to bed, telling me he just wants peace, quiet and togetherness, without the pomp and circumstance (e.g. etiquette, dressing up, making small talk at the neighbor’s party when they can never remember his name, etc.).

Truth be told, Christmas is never an easy time for us as a couple. As much as I am trained to think about and anticipate our “cultural differences” – especially after a failed first marriage to someone of a different culture, somehow I managed to color over the lines on this one, without noticing. Yes, M. was raised in a secular household – and went to mosque maybe 2-3 times in his life.  As a child, he tells me, he wished that he felt the sense of the thing that other kids and adults referred to as God. He wanted to feel God. He did not feel God. As an adult, he is pained by the cultural and political ills that religion can lead to in outlier situations such as Iran, Afghanistan, etc., not to mention the treatment of the Alevi in Turkey. And he is not alone with that when it comes to me.  But honestly, it isn’t really about religion, the tension at Christmastime.  It is about the one-step-removed from religion set of family traditions based loosely around religion, I think.  Perhaps, I think, for M. it is about the burdens of a childhood filled with memories about family fights on bayram (holiday) days.  I suppose somethings are not remembered to forget, and it is hard to let go. There is a reason someone emigrates half a world away, I suppose.  Somehow, in this difficult moment, I find myself married to that person – when I couldn’t be farther from him in my choices-or nearer to my family on this bayram.

So, will the boat rock n’ roll on Christmas Eve, or Christmas? I hope not. We’ve been down that road before, and I don’t want to go down that road again. Let’s hope that Karagöz can find some dramamine sans drama in the medicine cabinet. Let’s hope I can too. It does, after all, take two to tango.  Perihan Hanım , my puppet fairy godmother, will you visit us?  Will you help us through the tough patch as we work to take care of one another, against, at times, all odds?  And as if by magic, M. arrives with a hug, and offers to go out to get the last-minute items that I have forgotten for our Christmas Eve dinner.

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Kristmas Eve Karagöz Kollaboration with the Fairy Queendom

Posted on December 24, 2011 by lizcameron

English: Original by Rutger van Mazijk /modifi...

Image of the lavender flower fairy, from Bozcaada, who came to celebrate Christmas preparation time with the shadow puppet troupe via Wikipedia

Welcome to Christmas Eve, or as the Karagöz puppet troupe likes to refer to it as of late, “Kristmas Eve.” These little puppets, they have taken on the Kardashian family’s obsession with the letter K, and have started to use the letter wherever a letter starting with C or Ch is pronounced “K.” Ever since their wild romp in Provincetown, they have been acting kind of out there – “empowered!” says Safiye Rakkase. By the way, we still have to tell you about the puppets’ attendance at the Sultan of Nutcracker’s annual ball (but will have to wait until after Christmas – oops – Kristmas). OK, that’s it puppets, I am not going to roll with the K action, you can spell stuff that way if you want, but not me.

In any case, while we have been spinning our proverbial yarn about the 12 days before Christmas, introducing you to all of the major players in the shadow puppet troupe, we have not been filling you in on some of their pre-Christmas activities. Now, for years, the puppets have helped M. and I resolve our collective approach (no, Esma, I will not use a K for spelling collective) to handling Chrismas (not a K, Tiryaki, you impish addict!). As with many in the world, the holidays (while bestowing the promise of family unity and “good time together”) bring just a slight bit of dread.

Will so-and-so insult so-and-so unknowingly, will there be a fight between the Christians and the atheist, will family tradition be too much to bear for some who struggle from difficult family bayram images set long ago that are hard to leave behind…will the stress make us argue…will one of us storm off and leave the premises at the stress of it all – or threaten never to “do” Christmas again… the puppets have lived through all of this with us each year, each one supporting me in her or his own way in understanding how Christmas in my country and in my family may just be another Tuesday in M’s world…a world of his own with very different traditions.

A smattering of tree fairies from the classic Cicely Mary Barker-illustrated series...a delegation of tree fairies, plus the lavender fairy from Bozcaada came to meet with the Karagoz shadow puppets in my head recently (thanks to this website for the images)

This year, however, the puppets got it in their head that it would be a good idea to have M. and I work on a project together. And one day, while I was reading a book to my friend’s daughter, Esma had a brainwave. Esma, ever the nature lover, was sitting on my shoulder, reading along with me the poetry in the tiny children’s book Flower Fairies of the Wayside. This is a classic children’s book series from England, illustrated by the famous Cicely Mary Barker. As Esma was taking a closer look at the Mulberry Flower fairy (who she had seen before, in Turkey), she fell off of my shoulder and onto the book with a bang before rubbing her head free of swirling stars to pronounce – “what this little girl needs is a fairy castle for Christmas! Other bloggers make things for children – you know – like the life-sized chess set that one of the Archer’s of Okçular helped to make for the schoolchildren there! You can do your part for one little girl in your life, then move on to greater efforts in the community”

Hmmm, I thought to myself, that could be pretty well perfect for a seven year old girl enamored of pink, glitter and all things fairy. It’s been a challenging year for the little girl in question, so perhaps something really special (and pink, and glittery and magical) might do just the trick. And the planning commenced. Esma enlisted Hacivad Bey in the architectural effort, drafting plan after plan and whispering them into M’s ear at night so he thought it was his own idea. Esma took a more direct approach with me when it came to interior design – and even sought out Safiye Rakkase’s advice on decorations. Now, that’s a first in community building.

The Tree flower fairies, recovering after escaping from the plastic-encrusted tube from hell

One day, I brought home a set of fairy dolls from the crafts store, to give to our friend’s daughter to go along with the fairy castle. Although they looked plasticated to me, unable to breathe or generally sprite around at all, as soon as they entered the home, I found that the shadow puppet troupe was up in arms – with a great deal of running around, gathering implements (e.g. chopsticks, matchboxes, coasters, and the like, you know, things that tiny shadow puppets could move with relative ease).

“What on earth is going on?” I queried the puppets – you all look like you are part of the Red Cross and Red Crescent disaster relief service!”

“Well indeed, m’lady,” Hacivad Bey exclaimed as he ran by at breakneck speed “we are staging a rescue – there is a delegation from another puppet/doll ethnicity, and they are suffocating in plastic, we have to get them out BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE! Got to run – must-save-puppets!”

Before I knew it, the puppets had constructed an ersatz ladder up over the side of the craft store bag, and were dragging a paring knife, the smallest, up and over into the bag. By the time I walked over to see what was what,I realized that they were trying to “free” the plastic fairy dolls that I had purchased – all of which were jumbled together in a skinny plastic tube. Much to my shock and surprise, all of those fairies were beating on the plastic walls, fogging up the plastic glass with their fairy breath and making a tinkling-winkling fuss while using their magic wands to try to break down the plastic that was incarcerating them. Feeling horrible at their plight, and my part in it, I reached in and quickly pried the top off of the container – before the shadow puppets could begin to think about using that knife. Post-haste, the fairies flew out of the container and hovered around me.

“A benevolent human, I see,” a matronly fairy pronounced, “I see you shadow puppets are in good hands here. I have heard of you – the Sultan of Nutcrackers sent word of your presence my way – and I have been waiting to meet you all and sprinkle you with a bit of magic fairy dust to help you through the challenging moments of a family Christmas with your human. Oh – and I forgot to introduce myself, I am the Princess of the Tree Fairies, a delegation of the flower fairy queendom, we are matriarchal, you see.” Hacivad Bey and the Princess of the Tree Fairies commenced diplomatic discussions, and sent a tiny fairy emissary, the Linden Tree flower fairy, over to explain to me a bit about the Queendom of Flower Fairies:

One of the fuchsia guardian birds that travel along with the Tree flower fairy delegation

“Well, you see, madame, flower fairies are tiny creatures (the biggest is only 20cm tall) that live in the tree tops, marshes, forest floor, wayside and gardens. Wherever and whenever a seed sprouts, a Flower Fairy baby is born. Each Flower Fairy lives and sleeps in their chosen flower, plant or tree, and as this grows the fairy grows too. Each and every Flower Fairy is in charge of looking after their flower or plant; keeping it strong and healthy by making sure it has plenty of sunshine and water to drink, sweeping away dead leaves, and polishing flowers and stems. Flower Fairies are nature sprites. Each Fairy looks and behaves like an extra dimension of the plant it lives within and cares for. The evocative ‘song’ each Flower Fairy sings, helps convey the ‘spirit’ of her flower.” Enraptured, Esma took the Linden Tree flower fairy by hand and took him on a tour of the house. And so came the tree flower fairies, distant relatives of the Karagoz shadow puppets, for a Christmas visit.

The visiting Tree flower fairy delegation inspecting the newly-constructed fairy castle townhouse - they especially loved the shell-and-feathers fairy bed

In the few spare moments that M. and I have together in any given week, we were dragged by the visiting flower fairy delegation – along with representatives of the shadow puppet troupe – to work in the studio to create a fairy castle for our 7 year-old fairy fanatic. Celebi, the modernist, tells me it might be better referred to as a fairy townhouse, as it has three levels. We ended up with a fairy castle townhouse that has three different types of imaginary ecosystems, a maritime lair, a forest floor wing and woodsy realm complete with moss, antique tree trunk and glittering sparkly giant flowers that rival the movie Avatar in fancifulness.

A glittery teal flower, rivalling those seen in Avatar, for our very own New England-based fairy castle townhouse

While M. and I are not the best collaborators when it comes to creative projects, we learned a lot, had some good moments together and came up with a totally over-the-top fairy castle townhouse that I hope our 7 year-old friend will adore. Enjoy the photos of the fruits of our labor, and thank you, little puppet troupe and visiting flower fairy delegation, for getting us going on this! Now, let’s hope that the little girl likes it!

A close-up of the maritime lair

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