The
director of Mardin Museum, Nihat Erdoğan, is a hard-working and creative person
who is applying to several projects, one of which is called “Museums can Change
Lives.” The common characteristic which connects all his team to each other is
their strong love for history, culture, children and youth. As part of the
project, I designed a two-day workshop on Oral History for a group of twenty bright
and curious students (aged 14-18) from Nusaybin Anadolu High School.
Nusaybin is
city in the province of Mardin, and its population is largely of ethnic
Kurdish descent, meaning that all the students know at least two languages. The first day took place in the
school building where there is a huge and functioning (that’s important!) smart
board installed next to the white board. However, many sites were denied access
when it comes to internet use so most instructors used it only for Power Point
presentations. Last year, the students were all given tablets by the government,
but now they are also mostly banned in the classroom setting due to misuse
(most students are checking other sites while claiming that they’re reading the
class material files). Not the students
that were in my class! All of them listened to me with curiosity and the
questions they asked proved their attention and interest. Even when I checked
their average age (it turned out to be 15) and then causally said: “Ah, such a
nice age to be,” I was immediately asked: “Why do you think so?” Fortunately, I
had the answer: “Since you are full of energy and creativity” which I repeated
twice and I honestly believe in it. They seemed pleased with my reply:)
The high
school geography instructor, Berivan Aslan, the organizers from the Museum, Savaş
Tari and Mehmet Turan, were with me throughout the training. They also
contributed when they were carried along with what I was asking and presenting,
which made me smile. I took it as a sign of success that they acted like
students and eagerly commented while the students themselves kept their hands
up all the time.
During the
lunch break, we went to have grilled fish and get refreshed by the white river
(Beyazsu Çayı). It is apparently a refuge spot, a picnic area for the locals
and the tourists alike during the hot days or from the sight of brown landscape
of Mardin Area. There are separate sites for women and men when it comes to
swimming; not surprisingly the men (especially the young ones) are half-naked
and swimming in any spot, not only in the designated area. The women are hidden
under a tent-like structure, even I could not dare to take a peek. The fish at
Bahoz Café was covered with lots of spices and the salad was so rich and fresh.
After the afternoon
training was over and we were on our way to Mardin central, we stopped by the
Assyrian Church of Mor Yakup or Saint Jacob. The person in charge who was
living upstairs of this amazing excavated church (which is part of a complex,
not fully excavated yet) with his family welcomed us and told about the history
of the site. He underlined that it was the first theological,
philosophical, and medical school in the world, offering an interdisciplinary
university level education in today’s terms (4th century). However,
it was closed when the province was ceded to the Persians until Ephrem the
Syrian, an Assyrian poet, commentator and preacher joined the exodus of
Christians and re-established the school on more securely Roman soil in Edessa,
Urfa. That is why our guide calmly responded to my comment that the first
university was claimed to be the one in Harran, Urfa. He must have been heard
this zillion times. He is here now to patiently correct it (in his own narrative).
I then nod and let him boast about being the oldest (or in other superlatives).
I now do that regularly in different places I wander around the planet. Not all
people, especially the guards of historical and cultural heritage, love the
question marks as much as I do.
The second day of the workshop took place in the beautiful Mardin Museum
site, in one of the conference and exhibition halls. Most students showed up
except the girls whose mothers did not let them waste the day when there is the
serious project of house-cleaning. I cannot even make this statement sound
sarcastic anymore because it is very much true and such household tasks
(probably mixed with some other more conservative concerns) might prevent
students from joining some self-development activities and school trips.
I managed to show a 26 minute-long documentary on an oral
history project undertaken by a group of Muğla and Dicle University students
under the guidance of Leyla Neyzi from Sabanci University. The effect of the
documentary was very much like I anticipated, powerful and cathartic since the
students on the screen talked about the stereotypes and prejudices against the
Kurdish people when they are in other regions of Turkey such as Istanbul and
Marmaris. The students loved it when I asked them to comment on what they
watched afterwards. It was also a bit sad since they confirmed all the
stereotypes and shared similar stories to the ones told in the project. One of
the female students even said some of their teachers who come from other cities
treat them with an attitude, as if they were barbarians. Although I thought the
word was very strong (“these oversensitive teenagers!” passed my mind), you
never know. The documentary can be found under the following link: http://gencleranlatiyor.org/
After having delicious home-made lunch (türlü/stew, rice,
watermelon, and tea) prepared by Rukiye Turan and Semra Usta at the extension
building of the Museum, which is also used as accommodation for some staff, we
listened to the rest of the presentations prepared by the students. One
interviewed the other yesterday, recorded or wrote down everything and turned
them into a narrative, a mini-life story of her classmate. Most did not know
each other or only knew on the surface. After talking to them for 1.5 hour they
reported that not only learned the basics of conducting an oral-history
interview, but also about a new person. I am quite confident that some of them
will become close friends, at least treat each other with more respect and
affection. The bonding based on trust
and sincerity can be very effective and lasting during these sensitive years in
one’s life. During the evaluation session, some of them said they are going to
conduct oral history with their grandparents (our real targets with lots of
life experiences and wisdom, which I kept reminding) and send them to me by
mid-August. We’ll see... I taught long enough not to get excited about such
verbal commitments when a training ends in success. But I will send them a
reminder on the 1st of August and see if anyone will actually submit
a file.
Dara is a must see if you ever go to Mardin. It was
an important Roman fortress city in northern Mesopotamia. Because of its great
strategic importance, it featured prominently in the Roman-Persian conflicts in
the 6th century, with Battle of Dara taking place before its walls in 530.
Today there is a village whose residents (at least the ones I met) look like
Scandinavian beauties (only that they are shorter) with green or blue eyes, Caucasian features and blond hair. It
is quite striking to observe these kids running around. Not surprisingly, they
are so used to posing for strangers.
When I told Mehmet Ali (my local guide) that I visited the
site in 2000, long before most of the current sites were excavated, he told me that he must have been
one of the children running around, trying to take the tourists to the
aqueducts (known as Zindan/Dungeon at the time) and that maybe we have met. It
gives me goose bumps when I think of that possibility and now he is committed
to this ancient site, reads a lot, and volunteers in the excavation projects
for the international teams. He is in love with history and archaeology. The
director of Museum hired him on contract-base (not full-time). He told me that
unlike most guides, he doesn’t make up stuff. There are enough wonders and
already unbelievable facts so why lie? I confirmed as I was staring at the
heaps of bones and skulls exposed under the thick glass in one of the caves he
took me. That particular section was marked and lighted, but not yet opened to
public. I can imagine the extent of speculation regarding the origin of these human
bones since they were buried or exterminated altogether. Mehmet Ali told me
that the investigations are going on and there are several horse skeletons that
belonged to the (Roman?) soldiers along with the human bones. I don’t think I
have ever seen such a scene before and so close.
Nihat Bey was already in Dara due to a film shooting. The
team was tired and it was almost the end of the three-hour shooting for a short
introductory film. With two other young women who were part of the team, on our
way to Mardin center, we stopped by a private mansion called Firdevs Köşkü/Villa.
The breeze, the scenery and the reflection pool were so soothing. If I were
left alone there, I could have easily spent a full day, just chilling out,
reading, contemplating, and probably writing. I guarantee you that the taste of
a Süryani/Assyrian wine or the kaçak çay (smuggled black tea) would taste much better
just because of the atmosphere. If you are wondering why “kaçak çay” is valued
more than the regular Turkish black tea, ask the locals. It is not just Mardin
but the whole region who enjoys the bitter and strong taste of kaçak çay. You
should have seen the students commenting on their post-lunch tea with
discontent: “But this is Turkish tea!” which cracked me up! Don’t they love to
imitate their parents whom they criticize and rebel against so eagerly?
My arrival at Mardin coincided with after-election
celebrations so the streets were crowded and noisy at nights. Nobody cared
about officers’ attempts of regulating the celebrations, which meant lots of
guns and shooting around. It blows my mind that some groups express their
feelings of joy by shooting guns in the air. Call it a tradition or whatever
but nobody can convince me that it is a fun way to announce good news. What
happens to all the bullets dancing up in the air? Anyways, at least the morale
of people were high and they all seem to carry a relieved expression on their
faces. Let us hope that the following months will prove to be satisfactory and
fun as much as this post-election week.
With all the traveling I have done and plan to do in future,
I have slowly begun to learn to blend in and listen. I also notice that people
in some regions (e.g. Middle East) are more talkative than the others, they
cannot stop talking when an outsider comes and listens to them. They want to be
appreciated, they try hard to display their unacknowledged values, be them
historical, cultural or natural in the limited time period that the outsider
has in the region. They want to show everything, overdo the tastings or the sightseeing.
In contrast, some people from certain regions (Canada and Scandinavia) are
almost apologetic because of their beauties in many areas (nature, human
rights, welfare systems etc.) and even try to convince you that things are not
like what they seem. Some regions are already smug and their people see no need
for any attempt for endearing oneself to new comers (you name it this time, I
won’t).
Thanks for
all the organizers of Mardin Museum for making the Oral History Workshop
possible. I have already got several emails from the participants who want to
get involved in oral history projects, who are approaching me with topics of
their choice, asking me which one would be worth studying. The evaluations were
so sweet and motivating, some made me teary.
It was only
after 48 hours that I stepped on the ground of Bogazici Campus to spend some
time in Home Coming 2015, that is the Reunion Day for all the graduates. This
is another Turkey, as we all know, but still witnessing it makes me question
even more things regarding the gaps in this country. Maybe we should call this
campus a republic which functions rather smoothly under a set of different
rules and regulations. Over the years, I have heard people asking constantly,
how is that possible? What is it that keeps this place so autonomous? How come
the girls with the headscarves were allowed to continue their education at a
time when the restrictions were really tight on this particular issue in the
nineties? Activist students at the LGBT tent are distributing manuals to the
passersby and sipping their drinks. And speaking of drinks, I don’t know of
anyone who has been banished or punished due to consumption of some so called
sinful liquids, including students’ daytime breaks on “manzara” (the View, which
definitely deserves its name). In other words, the banned stuff can be gotten
hold of at Bogazici for decades. The ever-changing laws and regulations of
Turkish Republic is one thing, the strong tradition of Bogazici campus is
another, and I am not the only one who finds this fascinating and puzzling at
the same time.
Most
Bogazici graduates have a keen and critical eye on the world and themselves. They
don’t always cast beyond the moon. Thus, I find the organization of Home Coming
day a bit too much in the sense that it is the perfect site for the privileged Turks
to show off in their jeans, acting extremely casual and cool. The music is
always very loud and the creation of the Party-Time (!) atmosphere can be a
turn-off for some other graduates. However, you can see those guys in the hidden
and quiet corners of the campus as well, still enjoying themselves, and
secretly glad to be the alternative part of this hard-core partying (thus
fake!) atmosphere that they criticize with like-minded good old friends. Without further ado, I can simply claim the
day to be a re-union, some people make plans in advance, some others just show
up by themselves and enjoy some serendipitous encounters.
I was
chatting with a friend, who has never taught anywhere else in Turkey after
completing her PhD in the US. She sounded critical of not just the noise but
something else as well, some form of clique/group developing. Invisibilities in
certain crowds can also be very telling. In the limited number of homecoming
events that I have been to so far, I cannot recall seeing any groups with more
conservative outfit, i.e., graduates with fancy headscarves, their husbands and
babies. This year, they are here to party as well with the loud pop music and
participate and/or observe in the several activities such as couple dancing on
the grass and Zumba. They are now visible but hang out among others like
themselves. What then stands out is difficult to label as we were discussing
with my friend: volunteer self-segregation? Or what? She wants to see mixed groups
but as I was referring to the other alternatives who are already hidden in the
small and shady corners are also practicing something similar, don’t they?
Maybe we suffer from professional deformation, that is, we over-read,
over-interpret.
I did not
stay long this time. We arranged another meeting with a friend whom I met in
Sweden and spent more time in Beyoglu than on campus. I have to
confess that I missed the excitement that I experienced last year and it is
most probably due to the fact I was teaching here for the past four months. I
was here at least twice every week, the feeling gets so different from just
stepping on the campus grounds after several years of separation especially
coming outside of Istanbul. My heart was literally pounding last year! The
sudden jump from Mardin to Bogazici must have caused more alienation than
adrenalin or relief, which is a feeling I don’t resist or deny. As in all other
feelings, alienation is also part of the potpourri of sensations belonging to
my soul. At least, I am not going to shoot in the air to express my feelings
but continue to write quietly…
