Rushmir Mahmutčehajić: An Extraordinary Mind and Life

Less than a month ago, I was having a deep conversation with Rushmir Mahmutčehajić in his office in International Forum Bosnia. His sharp mind, his interest in cosmology and transcendance and his hospitality will always be memorable for me. His elegance was noticeable immediately but his sight problem (blindness?) was not. Before our meeting, he shared with me two articles, one is not published yet on an intriguing comparative work. In this unpublished article he argues that Muhammad, Maryam, the Qur'an, and Jesus are integral parts of a unified divine revelation, manifesting God's Word, mercy, and love to humanity, and guiding individuals towards self-realization and a return to the Divine One. I wrote him that reading his articles is not easy, and asked him about his intended audience. 

He talked about personal history too; his youth, his disappointment with Turkey in the 1970s, I guess, in general with the Muslim world (as he shared another anecdote about a prominent Egyptian politician. I owe it to Ivo Markovic who introduced me to him, who also encouraged me to meet him in person and talk about my work, and exchange ideas as two spiritual intellectuals who invest time and energy in the existentialist questions that most people don't have the time to pause and dig in.

Last night, Ivo texted me about Rusmir's passing. Less than a month ago, we met and had a nice conversation. Now he's gone from this dimension. Just like that? 
The first book I read of Rusmir Hoca was closely related to the town where he was born and raised, and tomorrow, he'll return there for his eternal rest. It was a fascinating book that I couldn't out down. Here is a AI-summary of it:
Mahmutćehajić argues that modern reductionism and scientific positivism have led to a "flattening" of human nature, marginalizing the soul and sacred meaning. The destruction of Stolac, particularly the devastating events of 1993, is viewed as a painful consequence of humanity's "forgetfulness" of the sacred. The book advocates for "recollection" (anamnesis) and a transformation of perception (metanoia) to rediscover meaning and spirituality. It suggests that by reconnecting with the sacred center, one can achieve a realization of unity and peace, restoring a sense of "paradise."
Despite the historical destruction, the book concludes on a hopeful note, pointing to the restoration of Stolac's mosque and čaršija as national monuments, symbolizing that "there is no loss we cannot recover, no suffering from which we cannot learn." Ultimately, says David Fideler (2011), "Maintaining the Sacred Center" is a lyrical, personal, and scholarly work that offers insights into the deeper meanings of the sacred, providing a foundation for understanding and reclaiming the sacred in the contemporary world.

I don't think I can get used to losing such precious people, but I should get into the habit of writing some lines (at least) after they depart, to commemorate, to cherish, and of course to pray for Allah's rahmet.

In the Land of Honey

 "The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind..." 

                                                                                                                                    Bob Dylan

Her name was Honey. She was 11 years old when we met in San Francisco's Richmond district, an easy walk from the GGP.  I haven't told her that the street that we shared a home for 3 weeks was the exact same street where my friend's retired diplomat friend lived and offered me her place for in the summer of 2014. 

Honey was adopted and her mom was at least as generous as her in her sharing. We had different mother tongues which did not matter at all once you know for sure that the words were just tools, the real shared language was intangible and strong. I mean... If I tried to tell you the full story, and if you happened to be an atheist or agnostic, you might end up as a believer. I don't want to mess you up. Better to share only the bits and pieces for now. 

I met a guy living in Ontario whom I thought was Canadian but it turned out that he was born and raised in SF. My limited time in SF in 2023 matched his last visit to the City after many years, and he told me that it would be the last. Meeting for a coffee chat won't hurt, I thought. Instead, we met at the Ocean Beach, a surreal district of SF that most tourists miss. An uncannily warm and sunny weather for that part of the town, for San Francisco, actually. We decided to take a walk, barefoot, and gave a break on a fallen tree trunk, a driftwood. Just to make the meeting more poetic and memorable. 

Honey was waiting for me at home, I had one more hour before I and Honey went out for our regular evening walk. Jonah got teary while talking about Israel's attack on Gaza and told me it was hard to talk about it in the U.S., even in California. I will always remember the pain and the desolation in his blue eyes. In my attempt to find some words of consolation, a playful ocean wave went over us, yes, over us, reclaiming any material stuff we got, including his cellphone.

Fast forward. I am in Sarajevo. It is gray and polluted weather in November 2023, nothing like Richmond. Staying at Andy's house, taking care of Honey made me travel to Sarajevo. I miss Honey but I am grateful to her and her mom's parents' decision to move to Mostar, a small, beautiful town whose international fame was due to the destruction of its famous bridge by the Serbs during the war. Mostar is 2 hrs drive or train-ride away from Sarajevo, a scenic ride, a feast for the visitor's eyes. 

My Californian friend Marisa is confused but also I sense an admiration and envy in her kind words: You decided to move to a new country? Just overnight? Because of Honey's mom's parents? Wait?! Tell me again how one can make such a decision and execute them as fast as you do? My gush!... She is not happy with her job since we met in 2020 so it's been 3.5 years and she has no strings attached like myself.* 

I met Jonah's college friend who happened to be living and working in Sarajevo. They bonded immediately as freshmen in Oregon and shared a dorm as two San Franciscans. 30 years passed since their graduation and they met in SF in October, most probably for the last time. Sometimes years pass without seeing each other so it's not a close link any longer, just faithful. His friend is a  temporary gift for me, smart, serious-funny, and took me to the least touristy parts of the capital, including a physiotherapy center run by blind and visually challenged staff whose touch was more sensitive than the ones with the eyes. We shared several meals and conversations until early February 2024.

Honey's mom was a refugee in Germany as a small girl for a while before moving to California. Her parents settled in San Jose, she studied at UC Berkeley and moved to San Francisco. Honey loved their home, she is a very happy and calm girl, and it is contagious. She even inspired me about adoption but I travel too much and I have issues with settling down. 

I fell in love with Sarajevo despite the winter. What matters is the temperature of the heart, not the outside weather. I felt so much at home in Toronto during that same October when I met Jonah, Andy, and Honey before a much delayed and deserved visit to my best friend's home for her birthday. Toronto is made warmer with her welcome no matter which month of the year. 

Honey has never been to Bosnia, I don't know if she ever will. She doesn't have a passport yet. Jonah has one but he had decided to stay at home which to him was Ontario. Until he met Sarah. Love is always stronger than one's willpower and trumps theories of climate change and its consequences. Sarah is from the UK. 

Honey's mom's name is Andy. She is 36, had a brother whose first baby news overlapped with the news of their father's terminal illness. Doctors couldn't tell when he was going to die but the parents decided that he would welcome death in Mostar, not in San Jose. Honey was entrusted to me during her mom's travel to Mostar with her parents and her best friends to purchase a house for their parents. There was no time to waste.

The first week of January, Andy's parents moved to Mostar. On February 3rd, I had a phone call from my brother: Our mom had a stroke and he was taking the first flight from Paris to Istanbul and could we meet at the hospital please? 

Being in Sarajevo rather than San Francisco, I arrived earlier than my brother. A stressful but smooth and short flight nevertheless. I felt fortunate to be in Bosnia. In fact, I was prepared for such news considering the age of my parents. My research was on hold, I couldn't return until the last weeks of April 2024, the pace of life and my definition of comfort or "normal" changed radically. My mom has become another person now, still at the hospital. It has been 2,5 months until I could give a break and for that very special and much needed break I chose Sarajevo. 

I knew Andy came to Bosnia for a month and I wanted to share my news with her and check on her parents. Her dad passed the day before I texted her, and she had to extend her departure. I owe them all, someone whom I never met, Mirko Butkovic, a man full of life (based on the photographs) changed my life and he didn't know it. I wanted to be there, thank him, pray, and be with Andy. 

The service was smooth, quiet, dignified, and took place on a very beautiful spring day. He was laid to rest, covered with fresh flowers in all colors, and with the love and respect from his family. Don't tell Honey but I have this thing: I visit cemeteries in most countries or cities that I travel to, from Rumi's place to Oakland's Piedmont or Mountain View, all the way to the famous Père Lachaise and Montparnasse of Paris....  This cemetery in Mostar is the best. It reminded me of some Turkish/Ottoman cemeteries with its dark green cypress trees mixed with other local trees. God willing, I intend to plant a tree there if Andy helps me with the bureaucracy! 

During the post-funeral lunch, I was told that the family members and some close friends would drive to Blagaj Tekke upon Andy's mother's request. This is Bosnia's inter-faith, beyond-faith, trans-faith (you name it, academics!) reality for you. Maybe the answer is not blowing in the wind... "Travel on the earth and observe," orders God in the Quran. 

I took a bus instead of my early but crowded train just to see the difference between the commutes to Sarajevo from Mostar. It was a gift. Jenny was a gift too, Andy's best friend all the way from middle school. A fellow academic, fellow vegetarian and definitely a very good person. Adisa, Andy's mom, Honey's grandmother, is a very sweet, huggable mother figure. How many times she (along with other family members) thanked me for coming, and I lacked the words to say in any language that I was very glad to be there. There was nothing to thank for. I am the one who will be thankful forever for this amazing connection and for the inspiration that led me to this country which is a shelter for me now. A shelter where I feel safe and at peace despite the everyday scars of the war. Isn't it ironic? Isn't it very intriguing? Isn't it a mystery that people are so ready to help a stranger after being betrayed and traumatized only 30 years ago? Isn't it time for the privileged Global North residents to question their definition and overused word "trauma"? 

Her name was Honey and she will always be my favorite dog.

-----------------

*Marisa took the decision to petsit internationally and gave up her flat in 2024. She gives me credit for the inspiration. 

A Post-Thanksgiving Thanks and Gratitude

Sallie passed away in late August. It was very hard to believe or process. Last year, I wrote her an email and I am very glad that I did. We had no idea that we wouldn't be able to share Thanksgiving messages this year. Life is very transient yet the soul is immortal and free from all kinds of worldly concerns, a good enough consolation.  

Sallie, I miss you a lot! I ask myself often: What would she tell me/write about this or that question? I'll take refugee in our over 2K email exchanges. I already did several times. They can make a good book, perhaps they should. But who is going to support it this time? 😔 

---

29 Nov.2024

Dear Sallie,

Who else if not you that I'm gladly reaching out on this special day called Thanksgiving? I give my thanks to the Ultimate Divine Power for crossing paths with you 10 years ago. Our connection was on the spot, immediate. You invited me to have lunch and a conversation. My journal says: 21- November 2014, Teahouse on Canyon Road, Santa Fe.

Since then, you've changed my life, eased my mind and my heart more than once, I can never express those feelings in any worldly language. 

(...) But for the rest of my deeply challenged life's fronts -especially the past 3 years-, you didn't let me feel like a failure, not even in the hardest times. You always encouraged me to get up, stand up, and keep on walking, praying, creating, and passing it forward to the other women in need. Plus, I can never underestimate the power of your publications in my personal life, I've read many of them in the last 10 years, beginning with The Blue Box.

I'm flying to Istanbul very soon (December 3rd) and my time in California has been healing for the first 1-1,5 months, and then I moved on, enjoying the simple pleasures of daily life. 2 weeks ago, I reached out to the director of Religious Studies at University of California-Riverside Campus whose background is unusual: Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies AND Religious Studies Scholar! She responded to my email very positively and I am very likely to get a visiting scholar's status at UCR beginning in mid-January. I've not been there before but it is part of the state-funded University of California system and  ranks very high in the U.S. 

An unpaid position but will give me the office space, the community that I've missed a lot this past year. A place to breathe in.  I'm in the process of reaching out, learning and meeting new like-minded women ONCE again. The thick dark cloud -the result of months of caretaking in Istanbul- has turned into a light gray tone now. Maybe soon, it might even get colorful again. I'm working on myself and the financial stress (a big one indeed!) was not there THANKS to you during this visit to the US. This is what I mean by "you've truly changed my life, Sallie," it's nothing less... 

It's hard to separate one's essential self from the other worldly/ego-self. But I know that you know what I mean. I'm ever grateful to your online blog entries that are about spirituality-hope-empowerment nexus. I saved some of them and went back to them when I felt down (still do). Same with some of your emails to me, much more efficient than any therapist can offer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

With love, 

Ozlem  

What is Needed Most for Adequate Spiritual Care is ...

Caring for One’s Own Trauma is the Hardest

An inclusive interview with Zandile Nhlengetwa from Durban, South Africa. Zandile and I met on Whidbey Island, Washington (out of all places!) thanks to an international gathering of women peacemakers and writers, that is organized and sponsored by the Institute of Peace and Justice (IPJ) of University of San Diego. It took place in October 2017 at Hedgebrook Women's Writers' Residency, an idyllic place where I could only dream of traveling:) I was one of the six women who received this invitation for a memorable stay in the heart of nature, the most delicious food, and "radical hospitality" that the Hedgebrook is proud of offering to its guests.

Zandile conducts trauma-healing workshops for survivors of violence as a spiritual caregiver (Seventh-day Adventist). Frequent traveling where criminal violence is still prevalent in the post-conflict areas is part of her “normal” life. In fact, when I communicated, she texted me back: “I’m on the road traveling to another city that is 700 km away for a community meeting.” Her work is not only spiritual or individual-focused, it incorporates income-generating programs too. “When you alleviate the effects of poverty, people begin to spare more time to church activities,” she says, which wouldn’t be necessarily true in the U.S./ my context, but I respect and trust her observations. Below are some of my questions and her responses:

What do you think is needed for adequate pastoral care on trauma survivors in general?

Well, I cannot talk about ‘in general’ because I was born and raised in South Africa, I don’t know any other context. I only went abroad once before I met you in Hedgebrook last year. The U.S. is a different world from South Africa. We can’t always know what is ‘adequate’ but as a black Christian woman in her sixties [born in 1955] who lost two members of her core family due to violence, I know what my people go through in my community so I practice my work accordingly.  

What are some of your personal strengths as a spiritual caregiver (SC) in your community when it comes to helping trauma survivors?

I lost my husband and my son in violent crimes. 10 years after my marriage and having two children, my husband was killed in 1989. Our house was burned down in 1994. I lost my son in a hijacking incident in 2004 while I was driving the car myself and he was sitting next to me. I’m telling you these so that you can have an idea about the traumas that I experienced. I embrace them as my personal strengths, especially when I work on practicing forgiveness. I lost all my property and two precious men of my life but I was able to forgive and continue with life and take care of others. 

How can you use or activate these strengths in your current community?  Can you give a few examples?

I think so. I live in a poor and rural area. It is more common than not to have single mother households where young men are easy to get involved in crime of all kinds. I talk to the mothers like myself who are afraid that their daughters would end up pregnant and sons drug-addicts or alcoholics. However, there is always a Bible passage to cite which gives hope and fortresses morality. Another strength is that I announced that making use of second-hand goods is not shameful because like the members of my faith community, I am also struggling to maintain myself and my family. You can say there is not a hierarchy between my family and the others I reach out spiritually. 

--

Zandile told me that as a Seventh-day Adventist she learned early to refuse canned food or meat. Her father was educated by American missionaries and worked as a clerk for the government. Many times, Zandile heard her father’s questions, “We are all born to love and support. No one is born to be violent. What is it in our community that resists this?” 

“My blood boiled when I saw strangers’ attacking my father as a child,” Zandile explains about her early role model of lived Christianity:

With serene impassivity, he always reminded us of what Jesus taught during the Sermon on the Mount: “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other.” He said patience is the key and added: “We were all, blacks and whites alike, victims of the same system. Lasting peace would only come through Jesus.” Growing up with him helped me a lot on how I treat people with trauma. 

As a college student, Zandile was dedicated first and foremost to her religion. As the struggle against apartheid grew, she adopted her parents’ religious defense. As a Christian she could not support violent resistance. This stance is still with her today and is leading her the path when she preaches or offers advice to her faith members (Seventh-day Adventists).

Do you think a spiritual caregiver who herself/himself is a survivor is better equipped with healing community members? Why/not?

Yes, I think so. But each trauma survivor is different, dealing with his own demons. I imagine myself more equipped when I am counseling a mother who lost her young son like I did, but I am also responsible for attending to the feelings of an incest survivor, something I don’t know about. 

What are your local and/or universal resources (books, texts, people/mentors, documentaries etc.) about spiritual care in your religious context?

Jesus is the prince of peace. I have accepted him as my personal savior, yes, I accept the prince of peace when I talk about peace issues in my community. I become more powerful because I am driven by the prince who empowers me with skills and with intelligence in dealing with all issues, with different roles that I need to play. Jesus is a spiritual foundation. 

What were the most challenging issues that you handled as a spiritual caregiver? If the challenge already belongs to your past, how did you deal with it/them? 

The most challenging… I should say the longest and loneliest period of my life was after my son got killed with a gun by another youth around his age. The tension and the extent of anger that I had carried since my husband’s death got much worse after losing my son. I had to be my own caregiver because I was terrified to face my emotions. I needed to relinquish poisonous pain by putting my unquestioning trust in the Lord. Only with prayer and spiritual dedication, I could get up and get out of the house. I committed myself to a journey of healing and reconciliation, which included visiting the perpetrator in prison and his mother in her village home. She was not nice with me but I visited her many times until we began talking and sharing the food I brought her and her neighbors. During that time, I also dealt with a different fear, which was the fear of  losing credibility within my faith community. I was aware that people kindly left me alone after the death of my son but not a single day passed by without feeling selfish and responsible for the members of my small town community. 

Do non-religious trauma survivors ever consult you (if yes, under which circumstances, or pressures -if any?) How does the recipient’s spirituality affect your practices if it does?

Not that I am intentionally made aware of. South Africa is a very strong Christian country. Liberation songs were all Christian songs. It is part of our culture as much as trauma is part of our culture.

---

Zandile always preached forgiveness and reconciliation but she nurtured anger within herself. She was unpacking her communities’ long-sustaining suffering, yet sealed her own pain securely. Any caregiver’s nightmare was gradually embodied in her when one day, Zandile realized “she loathed the person she had become”. She felt that she was a fraud. She was neither a peacebuilder nor a Christian caregiver. The words of Paul kept resonating in Zandile: “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal” (Corinthians 13:1). I can only imagine the excruciating confusion that Zandile must have gone through as she despised herself for her own hypocrisy. 

My conclusion from the conversation is that what is needed most for adequate spiritual care is honesty and courage, especially in dealing with one’s own fears and traumas before taking care of other community members. 

Thank you, Zandile! I am thrilled to have you in my life and that you have called me "your favorite professor":)) Guess what? You're one of my favorite peacemakers and role models as a believer.

The 4th International Week of Sarajevo University

(With special thanks to Muamer Hirkić, the Coordinator at the Office for International Cooperation, University of Sarajevo for keeping us the participants in the loop and responding to all our questions promptly)

Yesterday, I wanted to check the room where I'd teaching and when I arrived in there 30 min.before I was supposed to begin, the door was locked and there was no sign posted that might (optimistically) lead others to my way. However, miraculously, someone showed up and upon learning that I was the speaker, he began helping me as he has been coming to Sarajevo for the past 20 years, and knows his way around the mazes of the state building (again, no English signs). I will always remember his kindness and his taking out a piece of Mozartkugeln chocolate from his briefcase, which he promised me that there would be more if I come to his lecture the next day:) He took me to the dean's office where an assistant actually located the key so that I was able to enter the room, checking out the technical stuff, the internet, projector etc.

His name is Franz Kok (Uni.of Salzburg, "the Regional Cooperation Capacities at Western Balkans: Stability of Democracy in a Changing World") and I think we all need people like him in the places like Sarajevo University corridors where not many people know what's going on:) Furthermore, you should have seen my face when a full class filled the classroom with their professor named Abdel Alibegović who didn't explain what was going on either but as a seasoned presenter, I could tell that I was taking the time and place of a regular class hour, after which the students will continue with the professors. It was quite active, and with the attendance of my new young and French friend Jeanne (Jan was the pronunciation that I caught), I could rely on some honest feedback. The title of my presentation was "What Environmental Studies Lack: Politics of Beyond-human Approaches" and clearly I hid the element of religion from the title while the main body of my talk was around the integration of religion or spirituality in the dialogue in the Social Sciences. 

Another volunteer attendee was Zuzana Bartova from Czechia who is a scholar in Religious Studies from the University of Strasbourg (PhD thesis on Buddhist religiosity of French and Czech converts in consumer culture:) WOW! How this form of Buddhism conformed to consumerism and lifestyle as a model of consumer culture with its emphasis on identity construction. 

No, I don't believe in coincidences. Her topic sounds fascinating, and I think she should consider coming to California, and I should read more about Europe and their image-making-in-progress via consumption of course (capitalism is here to live just like religions).

Yesterday, I made a comment on the smart phones before I began my talk, and gently expressed students about my perception of their engagements in their phones. This was indeed very annoying in the previous sessions so I was getting very annoyed by it and shared it with this rebellious-looking French (Erasmus) student because she was not into her phone. I am glad she came to my talk and I will invite her to CA or UmAy homespace. 

There is so much to say about the situationship (!) of the new generation if I may take it out of the context a little bit and put in larger commitment issues. Tragicomical it may seem to us (because being young is mostly about already being confused, no?) why complicate it more with situationship (in education?):)

Time to pause and get going. My education about the Balkans are in action!

Ivo Markovic, Travnik, Guca Gora: A Memorable Sunday in BiH

I am very grateful because I was able to return to Sarajevo as I intended to many months ago. The capital welcomed well and smoke-free, which was the best possible news for this poor one with high sensitivity. 

I am very grateful to be able to meet Ayse, my young friend of serendipity whose gratitude and respect is very rare nowadays. I am beyond myself to sign up for the experienced mountain guide's hiking tour (Fikret Kahrovic) and spend hours walking and admiring the grandiose and the beauty of the Bosnian Mountains (May 3rd) and the next day, the peace-maker, St Franciscan priest Brother Ivo took us (three meleks!) on a long ride outside of Sarajevo. We realized a dream when he first mentioned it to me on the night of the annual Christmas concert at the Catholic Seminary of Sarajevo (2023). It was a lovely night where I watched dozens of believers and their children watch the Nativity Scene being enacted, took photos on a cold Sarajevo evening. I remember looking at the framed posters on the walls of the seminary where the monasteries are depicted and one of them showed the photo of Guca Gora where Fr.Ivo served three years. It was closer to the village where he was born and raised.  

Our first stop was Travnik, the former capital of Ottoman-reigned Bosnia. We had coffee at the Cafe which is mentioned in Ivo Andric's Bosnian Trilogy. One needs to make a real effort to imagine what it was like back in the day while sitting under the big red Coca Cola umbrellas and exposed to other modern day advertisement. Nevertheless, it was a big happy reunion to meet Ivo Markovic, the namesake of the Nobel Literature Prize Winner in 1961. Because it was a Sunday, and the new law imposed that stores will be closed (including the shopping malls), I sat in Ivo's car empty-handed, my burek plans for a picnic failed while Ayse and Fatma's homemade cake's aroma was promising and delicious. However, Ivo already knew where to get the best burek near Ivo Andric's home (a museum today) so we left the town fully prepared for our lunch at his home. 

Ivo is one of those people who keep checking if you're hungry, if you feel like eating or drinking something on regular intervals, even if he knows that the answer would consist of another "no, thanks" again:) His generosity is an essential part of his being and comes naturally, making me smile each time.

You need to try real hard in order to buy or pay for anything and even if you can, Ivo will make a comment on it, expressing disapproval. Our next stop was Guca Gora monastery where we had some fruit and he had his first beer:) We met one his former students and given a tour by Ivo himself, which even included live music thanks to the organ in the church. Ayse and Fatma were beyond themselves and took all the possible photos and live-music video (because of their generation!):) The monastery was spotless and very quiet. There were only three people living there. They offer rooms to the hikers or any travelers who have interest in staying at a real monastery in the area instead of camping. 

Finally, we arrived in Ivo's home and was greeted by his loyal friend, Shargo. He is a rough-looking dog on the larger side, can be scary and even bite, warns Ivo. He ties him just in case. The village is deserted and its quietness poses a contrast to the newborn, screaming green tones and flowers of the Spring! It can become a wonderful retreat place, I can imagine it easily at this time of the year. It's the war, the economy, and who knows what else but the village is empty and the houses are used only for family reunions once a year or every two years etc. Sad? I don't know. It's what it is. Ivo tells me that I am always welcome to the house if I want to finish a book or just escape the city life. Now, I have another home away from "home" which is a complete unknown... I'm like a rolling stone.

My Jogjakarta Field-trip and Sallie Bingham:)

A dear one (Sevilya) asked me recently: "You no longer write blog entries, I used to love reading them, it was a way to get inside your life, your travels and feelings." In her usual gentle style of communication, she left it there, without adding "I wish you wrote!":)

I have been having writing issues. I've been having privacy concerns (not that I've things to hide but I guess I am at the opposite end of where social media personas live). I simply intend to keep it quiet and modest, sharing things only with a few selected friends, not polluting the social media or invade screen time.

The reason why I am typing this is the fact that I actually found an essay that I submitted to USD newsletter after they invited me to their Sarajevo Conference in 2015. To my shock, 10 years passed and I created the opportunity to return to Sarajevo last year, rented an airbnb, met wonderful people, visited places etc. I wanted to share this essay with a potential traveler and realized that it is no longer on the official site but only here on this blog. It was a relief and push for me to return to my 'digital archives' or diaries. 

Secondly, I'm in a new country, using up the last chunk of the research fund that I received from Sallie Bingham. More and more, I confess to myself whether it is time to move on to another chapter in life. My love for reading, observing, and writing will probably never leave me but it might be time to pause.  It is the difficulty of capturing the essence of my own feelings as well as the realistic and vivid impressions of the place or the people (Indonesia). In any case, I have to push myself really hard to write.

Sallie Bingham's discipline in writing regularly at the age of 85 is admirable to say the least. I bet it is also among the secrets to her health and energy. A reason to live, perhaps. I thought I was like that too. But I no longer feel so. The platforms have changed dramatically when we talk about the books, the readership, the AI and even the youtube made ME lazier, to begin with. Who am I to criticize others, the younger ones, the students who use ChatGpt and ask for the summary of everything? 

I am grateful that Bumi Langit permaculture was recommended to me by Iqbal Barkat and Koki, our guests from Sydney last summer. I am also grateful to my persistent and long-term planner-self, a dreamer who intended to spend the March of 2025 here months ago. Iskandar Waworuntu (1954) is the founder and I had the most distinguished time with him over several dinners and celebrated his birthday on March 01st with his family and friends, I just happened to be there. I respect and admire people with a mission, people with a lot of life experiences, critical mind, and YET they know exactly where they are heading to and why (in terms of the lifestyle). Pak Iskandar is one of them and Sallie Bingham is another.  They are both religious-spiritual people too, and I don't think that it is a coincidence.

Anis and I in Jogja, Eid (April 2025)

When I find myself in times of trouble... who whispers the words of wisdom?

Almost a full year passed since my last blog entry. Here is the challenge I'd like to pose myself: Capture the year if you can in a less than 1.000 words! What is the highlight(s) up until now? How do you set up a new reality? (remember the time when you actually began publishing about 'reality'? It was in 1996-97, early but a good quality contribution with Foucault, Baudrillard, Umberto Eco...)

Sarajevo my love...

Almas Mulalić, Melina, Valida, Zilka, Amra Pandzo... Strong women of Sarajevo who welcomed me.

And Friar Ivo Markovic, who picked me from the airport and brought me to the heart of town where he delivered a plenary talk in the UN World Interfaith Harmony Week. Then, we went to a dinner on a hilltop where we enjoyed the city in lights. I'll always remember this very short but must visit to the capital where I had to empty my flat and move to Istanbul to care for my parents. 

Istanbul (cat-sitting in Ortakoy and Cihangir) The beauty of Yildiz Park, my healing begins.

Touring Istanbul in search of a good facility for my mom (and dad too as he cannot stay alone at home)

Hale, Başar, Elif... Several of our neighbors and relatives who called and offered us help. My mom's sister,

She has never given up her sister no matter what. She became the wizard of public transportation in Istanbul at the age of 80.

Meeting Ayse Turk from IUS in front of the City Hall of Sarajevo and how close we have become.

Northern Cyprus: Zehra, Vacide, Hanife. Years later, an emotional reunion. 

Cappadocia: I made it to the EcoHumanities Conference (May 20-22) upon invitation. Sinan Akilli, thank you. 

Estonia: The beauty of horses and green fields, love of nature pulsing everywhere, white nights. Equine-assisted therapy. 

Turkish Author, Composer, and Singer Zulfu Livaneli is also a great columnist_August_25th Essay for Oksijen Newspaper

 Sultan Abdülhamid was a Fan of Opera

I don't believe that the majority of people considered conservative in Turkey are concerned with preserving the old culture. They don't defend Itri's music, Sinan's architecture, or Baki's poetry, nor do they enjoy this aesthetic level. They have grown up within a distorted understanding of modernization that emerged as a result of an unplanned migration of at least fifty million people to the cities. They have embraced not the songs of Şevki Bey or the folk songs of Karacaoğlan, but rather arabesque music; not Mimar Kemalettin, but unauthorized buildings with iron sprouts on top and versifications with no literary value whatsoever. Looking at the matter from this perspective, we must say that we are the true conservatives in the realm of culture. Those who claim to be conservatives are in a misguided interpretation. This same incorrect interpretation also applies to the exaggerated image of Sultan Abdülhamid II that they have been promoting in recent years, which has no connection whatsoever to the image of Abdülhamid who would hang and execute people, raid places, and slap envoys on TRT screens.

Engaged in a passionate love affair with a Belgian girl named Flora Cordier, who played the piano, brought her clothes from Paris, and shared a stormy romance, spoke French albeit not as fluently as his brother Murad, drank rum instead of raki, and projected a Westernized appearance with his lifestyle, the Sultan's love for opera is well known, and it's already known that he even had an opera performed in his palace. When he was a 24-year-old prince, he accompanied his uncle Abdulaziz on a European journey, and after seeing Paris and London, he expressed his sadness over the widening gap between us and the West. He sent money to Pasteur for his newly established laboratory, established the Bakteriyolojihane-i Şahane center in Istanbul with the help of the French during the epidemic, attempted to familiarize the people with Western clocks by erecting clock towers in various cities, was a fan of Sherlock Holmes, and enjoyed listening to Johann Strauss's composition dedicated to his birthday.

Despite his caliphate policy used against major powers aiming to dismantle the Ottoman Empire, in his private life, he embraced a European style like his father, his uncle who composed waltzes, and his brother. He imported four Steinway pianos from Paris for his children. In short, he was a sultan who maintained an authoritarian regime suppressing opposition while also admiring the European lifestyle. Adding to all this, it's worth mentioning that he ordered Colt pistols in Native American attire through American ambassador Terrel, just to make the picture even clearer. Since he ordered them from America, he must have tried them at least once or twice.

He was someone who both said "ancestors" every day and viewed opera and ballet as decadence. With the desire that those who view his life this way should also read the relevant section from the book "On the Back of the Tiger," I would like to share it with you.

Italian Opera Singers at the Palace

In that beautiful palace, which had now become a dream, the Sultan, who would have novels read to him behind a screen placed at the foot of his bed every night, would sometimes have sleepless nights and would clap his hands, saying only "opera." This single word would signal that the Italian artists, both men and women, who had been bestowed titles like pasha, major, colonel, had only half an hour to prepare and get on stage. At the head of the palace theater was Arturo Stravolo, who was a mimic master from Naples, who had migrated to Istanbul with his father, mother, actress wife, brothers, uncles, aunts, and had entered the service of the Sultan.

Since the Sultan didn't want repetitions of the same plays, one of Stravolo's duties was to watch new plays in Europe and stage them in the palace. All the actors were attached to a military unit and had to wear the uniform corresponding to their ranks. Angelo was a lieutenant, violinist Luigi was a captain, baritone Gaetano was a colonel, and highly skilled tenor Nicola wore the uniform of a sergeant. Orchestra conductor Aranda Pasha had to start performing the requested piece of music within half an hour of receiving the "Masked Ball" order in the middle of the night. Some days, the Sultan would watch the plays with his family and guests, but at night, he would sit alone in his box. If there was a part in the play that he didn't understand or didn't like, he would signal with his hand to stop everyone. In order for the performance to continue, every detail had to be explained to his majesty.

Moreover, since the Sultan didn't like tragic endings, the conclusions of every opera, from La Traviata to Il Trovatore, would be altered to create happy endings. For example, at the end of La Traviata, Violetta wouldn't die but would dance happily.

The most beloved actor for the Sultan to watch was Arturo's beautiful wife, Cecilia. He wanted to see her in the lead role in every play, but due to biological reasons, this was often not possible. Therefore, the troupe had to resort to disguises, using wigs and makeup to make another actress resemble Cecilia, and dimming the lights. Cecilia frequently became pregnant, and since her growing belly didn't suit the young girl roles she played, she wouldn't perform until after giving birth. Nevertheless, all this effort was worth it in the end. The Italian actors were living luxuriously on high salaries, and the troupe's director, Arturo, was rewarded with privileges such as being the owner of the first car in Istanbul. As the guardian of Islam in Anatolia, the caliph was an admirer of European culture. He would say that Turkish music was only drum and zurna, and that although it was called "alaturka," this music had its origins in Persia and Greece. He was a great lover of opera. However, due to his contradictory nature, he would sometimes become bored in the middle of a performance. Stravolo, realizing that the Sultan was bored, would immediately interrupt the play and bring out various performers such as jugglers, magicians, acrobats to entertain him.

https://gazeteoksijen.com/yazarlar/zulfu-livaneli/abdulhamid-bir-opera-hayraniydi-187072

RHCP Concert Attendees in Three Countries, Serendipity and Generosity

Mad Cool Festival (July 6-8) takes place in Madrid, an alternative music festival for the ones who take live concerts seriously. My brother and his lifelong friends from Turkey are among them. Exactly a week ago, I received a text from my brother with a name and phone number along with fun and funny photos from the concert area. The phone belonged to the wonderful Leslie, a SF-based yoga instructor who invited me for her lesson in San Francisco as a gesture and kindness in return as she was deeply touched by the space-sharing system that my brother and his friends created in the front rows. I took the invitation as I thought it was such a cool thing to offer and it has been ages since my in-person yoga class. In fact, it has been exactly 9 years since my first free yoga class in the cool gray summer of San Francisco.  Aylin accompanied me during and after the class, which was a delight as always. She is funny, transparent and very unique in her own ways. One of the reliable adopted SF family members, a sister with a fire sign. On the way to my temporary home, I felt very relieved and content in a way that I missed a lot (I miss that feeling!) watching the world through pink lenses. Matcha latte, blue matcha, and a smelly and expensive grilled cheese sandwich at Epicurean Trader on Union St. (Cow Hollow)

The yoga class began with Leslie's anecdote on space-sharing and how she gets to meet the two siblings in the same week across the world (Madrid and SF!) She had given me a big hug, thanks, and asked for consent to share the anecdote before that. The yoga studio is called Yoga Flow &  her class took place in the Union St. branch, a spacious one with light colors and large ceiling windows, which I adore in any building. I was soaking with sweat and had to commute two hours from Berkeley (round trip) and spent around 40$ for the occasion but it was worth it. I'm in transition (still) and I can't even diagnose myself whether I'm now an introvert or people's person, or a small-town hippie type who is high sensitive and cannot deal with crowds. 

It turned out that Aylin too attended RHCP concert in LA in the early nineties.  I saw them in Istanbul (September 2012) with my cousin, and Leslie a week ago in Madrid. What brought three of us yesterday was more than serendipity or the love of music: It was the willingness to invest in the time and the good intention towards the Other. This requires a newly defined generosity and sharing that goes beyond money-sharing or charity. It began with my brother's space-sharing which Leslie connected to self-confidence of the space-sharer, and continued with meeting a new person, a new yoga studio, and making an old friend happy! 

AylinCan, happy 9th Anniversary of a -inshallah- much Longer Friendship/Sisterhood! 

July Blues and Silvers

Reading Rebecca Solnit's essays are inspiring for revisiting one's own writing skills as a woman who likes non-fiction. Plus, I still get some nudges from friends who live in other countries or states, asking me "Why don't you continue your blog at least?" So here I am after 9 months of break with my first 2023 entry in the midst of July in Berkeley. 

I have had very good excuses for not writing, at least I convinced myself that I have:

1. People don't read much and they are more distracted than ever. I have several friends who wouldn't even remember that I got a new book out in January 2023. Brain fog is the new fancy excuse that not only bohemian arty types are using, It's post-pandemic officially and everyone is using it, including myself. 

2. The biggest earthquake recorded in the history of Turkish Republic hit the 10 provinces on February 6th 2023. It was pretty traumatic to say the least. My parents' city is no longer there. I've been involved in the efforts of reconstruction and will be.

3. My mom had two major surgeries (knee and hip) and a serious and longterm care-taking process began, which I thought marked the end of my precious freedom. I spent several months in the city of my nightmares and at my parents home. I met too many doctors and healthcare providers than I ever wanted to. 

4. The election results weighed me down, feeling me paralyzed for some days. Sometimes the positive-energy generator in me that I've been blessed with (and shared generously with others) is feeling down too even if it's functioning. It is a generator after all!

There is always something valuable in the trials of life and for me it was the solidarity and unconditional support that I received from friends and family on top of perfect strangers' whose generosity always moves me more than the expected forms. 

Finally, my friend Patricia supports my dad's encouragement on a new book that I should be writing about "how to live a decent life with under 500$ per month in the Bay Area" but I will keep it for my retirement or as a lifelong secret. True, a self-help book for the Californian lovers who are digital nomads with no strings attached might actually bring me some money unlike the books that I spent months researching and writing. However, I value privacy more than than money. Everyone's journey is different, and I am hesitant to give "advice" to people and act like I figured out something that they haven't even if I have:)

However, I will continue getting inspired by Rebecca Solnit so it's likely that the frequency of my entries may increase in the coming months. The title? Well, if you know of the Bay Area weather, especially of SF in summer time and my age, then you can figure it out:)

The Longest Summer is soon to be over

Summer has always been associated with reading and a slower pace of life in general for me. I had summers where it has been always gray and rainy, end of which marked a once-good friend's return to Antalya and burning the bridges of a possible academic career. The weather affects some people more than the others, even if you're among the spiritual ones who believe in the inner climate's effects on the outer. If your inner light is on, it can stay on regardless of the weather outside, right? Well, nope! :)

After experiencing incredibly frustrating delays at the airports in early summer, I decided to spend it in California and not fly at all, period. I managed it quite well as we're about to say goodbye to October, which makes it 4 months of non-flying, which is nothing compared to the time spent socializing with yourself and your pod(!) outdoors for almost 2 years. 

California as one of the biggest states of the US has a lot to offer for all kinds of people unlike the common belief that it's only for the rich. God has been very generous with it sparing the occasional natural disasters that remind people of their mortality and vulnerability regardless of the statistics or the power of the economy that California boasts about. So many small towns by the coast are to me previews of what Paradise might be like in another dimension.  Ventura, Santa Barbara, Ojai... you name it! 

I met several people who declared mental bankruptcy in California (born and raised or came for grad studies and for business, stayed for 2 decades at least and then crash boom bang!) They cannot even stand it, which is a clear indication of not taking good care of their inner climate and searching for places to escape elsewhere. What a privilege! You cannot imagine the number of young people who run to the East Coast for college and then off to explore the rest of the world after getting their diploma.

I don't come from a background where I can have the luxury to say "I've got a nice place to retire and spend the rest of my life in a small shack" (California has very simple and small houses too). Do you? I was rather pissed off when someone whom I met at the Berkeley Public Library happened to like me a bit too much and kept on communicating. I finally had to say let's give a break to these 'exchanges' especially after listening to his queries about moving to Turkey if Trump wins the elections the second time. I witnessed other liberal people with means who prepared their escape plans -mostly to Europe- if Trump got reelected. The less adventurous ones with small kids to Canada. The problem is it is clear that they are not watching the local news and the intellectuals of the culture that they're hoping for a new start. Sometimes, they are so blinded that all I can do is to listen to them and keep quiet about the content matter.  

There are many advantages of straddling between two cultures and continents if you can be at home in both or neither.  I am far from romanticizing it but I can also identify rather quickly people who have not lived or worked abroad from the ones who did. Bonding with the ones who chose to remain afloat with loose but strong roots (like waterlilies maybe?) is easier for me in comparison to the ones who cling on to one particular culture or identity as they cannot feel at home in multiple places or keep an everlasting longing or nostalgia (and that really drives me cray!):)

I'm on my way to the Bay Area where I've always felt at home despite the fickle weather. I will probably get teary again as the plane lands on the SFO and I take out my clipper card to beat the rush hour traffic and the forced dialogue between the uber driver and I. Aylin is the only friend who never lacks uber-driver stories and always tips them generously regardless of their attitude. 

I cannot believe the sun season is over and I don't want to leave the sunny and slow pace of life, that is my extended summer of 2022. No need to talk about business or failed or aborted job applications that happened within the same period of time. It was summer after all and so many people are still in post-covid-recovery period. There is envy if not confusion when I tell people that I'm working while traveling and as a free-lancer. I know it cannot continue forever but... One never knows!  If you love something you love it never feels like "work" anyways, does it? 

Boulder and Nature

After multiple postponements here I am in Boulder, Colorado. I am being hosted at a stunning house whose owners have money and taste for its indoors and outdoors decoration, the ideal combination for beautifying the world and one's own wellbeing. I am happily refilling the bird-feeders and eating fresh raspberries on daily basis that ripen so fast that I'm having hard time keeping up. There is something incredible about picking the fruit right on the spot whose delight never fades for someone like me who grew up in a city and watched fruit-picking from animation movies and other TV series for children. 

I told the other day to a colleague that some people are generous at heart, period. This generosity relates mostly their non-attachment and healthy religiosity, basically to a worldview. Unlike most people think, it is not necessarily connected to the amount of wealth that they inherited or accumulated. Unfortunately, I met several people (well educated and impressive on their resume!) who justify their weak generosity by not having enough money. I don't buy the argument.

I had the pleasure of meeting Tom Shepard here in his state of origin! In  the previous blog entry, I mentioned two new friends and he is the second one whom I wanted to talk about. Tom and I met thanks to a common friend who also supports refugee rights and stories with a special focus on LGBTQI+ and thus I got to watch Unsettled first, and then met the director, the wonderful Tom! Here is an artist who is sensitive and knows how to listen to people. Furthermore, he is more than his art in this world. He made an extra effort to get out of his -what some envious lips might call- comfort zone in San Francisco and established a documentary film school for the underprivileged youth:https://www.youthdocumentary.org/ in Colorado Springs. Even this initiative by itself was more than enough for me to have admiration and respect for him for the rest of my life. I'm so happy to have him as a friend and am looking for a possible collaboration for future.  It was so generous of him to drive to Boulder and make sure that we have the most satisfactory time catching up and making plans for the future so that his skills as a film maker can extend beyond the US borders. 

The place I'm staying at is only 3 miles to the heart of the downtown (Pearl Street) and is an easy access via bus (10-12 minutes). I'm drawn to its name: Wonderlands as it does feel to me as Wonderlands that I'm beamed up by the Divine Power.  Power and beauty of Nature here is inexpressible so I will not try here but instead be present in it and cherish every moment.

In gratitude. 

An International Film Festival and Colors of Life

Fortunately, there are times in life when the word serendipity feels very tangible and warms our hearts like fireworks did when we were kids. They are through meeting people whose texture and stances in life match yours despite the seeming discrepancies across cultures, generations, and languages. You find yourself retelling your life story in fragments as the story is getting longer and even if it is interesting for others, to you, it might sound like being on the verge of becoming stale. Yet, you make the effort for these special people because of what you see in their eyes and the ways they listen to you with their whole being. Isn't it harder to make close friends or partners-in-crime as one ages no matter how gracefully? Then, we need to value more and protect them more carefully.

My return to the Bay Area has always been rewarding. My very special connection to San Francisco, the cool gray city of love (Gary Kamiya's book title!), might have begun as a romanticized construction but after my very first encounter with it in 2005, thankfully, time provided more than enough evidence that transformed this construction or dream into a steady and sustainable reality. 

Two new friends: a journalist-author and a documentary director. I will try to express the first one's impact on me as an ever-growing so called adult although the main part of this entry is still about the movies that I saw in the past 3 days. I can't remember the last time when I saw three movies in a real movie theater in such a compact time but it's been two decades since Flying Broom International Women's Festival in Ankara (2002). Step back 7-8 years and there you can see myself and a few friends at the Istanbul International Film Festival:) 

Lindsy is around 70 yrs old, a news reporter who covered everything from major political campaigns to New York’s hooker underworld, interviewed all the celebrities of the eighties and nineties that you can think of from Bill Clinton to Oprah to Margaret Atwood, Susan Sontag... She coined the phrase "bra burning" to describe a feminist protest but due to the permit refusal of the demonstrators, the Undies Immolation never happened! The phrase stuck and L hopes that it's not her most lasting contribution to the popular culture:) She is one of the most transparent, well-traveled and generous women that I have ever met in my life. Sassy and kickass  at the surface but no matter how many F-words she uses as long as she has those innocent child-like eyes and humility, she is unlikely to intimidate people even if she wanted to (or maybe IF she really wanted to... she might?):)  I need to spend more time with her in public.

L feels both like one of my alter-egos and lost-and-found mothers of the second-wave feminists that I still adore and follow (arghh the backlash scares me!) Reading her book on the fluidity and richness among sexual orientation of women took me back to my PhD years at York, the oldest and still one of the most progressive women&gender studies programs in the world in this specialty area. Do I want to revisit the past as a no-regrets person whose imagination is filled with future plans and fantasies no matter how crazy they are instead of nostalgia and/or the reconstructed sepias that are leftovers of therapy sessions?

In my mind, L overlaps with the Lebanese grandmother character in the movie I saw yesterday as part of the San Francisco Film Festival: Costa Brava, Lebanon: They are both feisty and outspoken. Which brings me to the International Film Festival, yay!

SF Festival Highlights: I didn't see you there is a documentary made by Reid Davenport. I can't recall another documentary which depicted frustrations of disability in such an artistic and memorable manner with occasional touches of humor. The use of music and the shifting contrasts from the gray urban/concrete realities (officials, strangers, flight attendants) to green nature, gardens and family encounters in Connecticut) are the keys for the success of the film. When the camera angles change even in the middle of downtown Oakland, one can enjoy the bright blue sky and the beauty in the spiders' webs, transgressions that remind the audience of a beyond-body presence. Layers of feelings and associations make the documentary an excellent piece of work for discussing the politics of disability in any classroom (just ignore the F words or drop a fashionable trigger statement on your syllabus :) Reid Davenport is an approachable and courageous person who is willing to talk about his work and life. 

Nothing Compares (Kathryn Ferguson’s documentary) is about the life and the career of Sinead O'Connor, the bitter consequences of challenging the games of music industry (especially in the U.S.)  Ferguson brings her back to life. I asked the other (younger and Californian) guest of the house I'm staying in SF whether she has heard of Sinead, and she replied no. I don't think anyone who has seen the eyes and heard the voice of Sinead O'Connor will have difficulty of remembering her. She is one of those rebels who genuinely doesn't care for fame or money but happened to get it due to her talent and the circumstances. I had some issues with the documentary (hence the reason for linking it to a critical review) but if your main figure has that angelic face and those piercing looks, you begin at an advantage as the director, no? 

"Nothing Compares to You" didn't get the permission to be used in the documentary to the whole team's shock and the director told us that they got the news at a very late stage of the documentary. The audience get to learn everything about it but never hear it (and you want to!) It a breakup and mourning song but unlike most of us thought, she sang it with her mother in mind, the cruel, abusive mother which Sinead is not shy about criticizing (Prince wrote the lyrics).  She manages to explain the reasons behind the mother's issues but none can cure the scars that left Sinead broken for the rest of her life.  Sinead didn't expect the tears fall down but they did and it truly captured the audience (I for one remember it very vividly!)

The mother-daughter non-bonding or failure in a healthy bonding is a serious matter that affect millions of women one way or another across the world. I used to make it an issue as a teen or college student, but after recognizing the collective and intergenerational struggle behind the lack of communication or displaying love, I let it go, and it was a relief to say the least. Unlike most women around me, it saved me time and money where I could redirect energies to better causes in this limited life time than navel-gazing and blaming and whatnot. The trick is to see each other as individuals too and to acknowledge the huge number of women with mother-issues in comparison to the ones who are in a smooth and strong bondage(!):)

When the documentary ended, the moderator told us that there was no time for Q&A but we were welcome to come down to the stage and interact with the director if we want to so I did. I had to ask her why she didn't acknowledge Sinead's conversion to Islam 4 years ago, which was a bold and unexpected announcement to make (not that Sinead would care, I guess). My question arrived after initial intro and congratulations so I am pretty sure it landed OK:)  Kathryn Ferguson paused a bit and said there was a lot about Sinead that it was hard to pick at the end as written statement on the screen (you know the ones that summarizes 'what's been happening since XY' because the time is up?) But "Isn't it a major event in one's life?" I asked, and that she even changed her name but that too went unmentioned. She got away with it smartly that 'maybe we should go back and add a statement':) Is it possible? I need to ask my director friend now whom I am to thank about informing me on the film festival in the first place.

I am happily extending my stay here and I hope that it is leading me to a better path. 

An Interview by Maria Fedele

MF: You are very engaged in representation analysis, gender studies, and women-on-the-move for decades by now. How did you come to think the way you do about the issues that you’re passionate about?

OE: At the core of all lies my curiosity about the nature and dynamics of injustice when I think about it. It is followed by an early awareness of agency that as individuals we can change things. However, building patience and understanding the importance of transnational and sustainable collaborations came later. Wisdom always comes later, no? That’s the irony of life and the reason why I remained child-free!

How is this passion reflected in other areas of your life?

OE: If you mean non-academic areas by ‘other areas’, I should begin with a correction. I don’t believe in the separation of these, and my life so far has been an evidence. Even as a child, I thought life in my small world was too boring and only by reading and traveling could I transcend it. When I began solo-traveling abroad at 19 and faced many questions that showed extreme prejudices about my country of origin, my interest in studying travel literature and stereotypes began developing. As a literature student, exploring the genre of women’s travel writing was exciting. Later on, I realized the difficulty of categorizing or submitting to already-made compartmentalization of women-on-move. Especially after interviewing refugee women across many countries for years, defining home or belonging as much as traveling became harder to define for me. Recently, I welcomed the phrase “women-on-the-move” into my language so now the trajectory of my life as an immigrant, academic, and traveler gathered under the same roof (only metaphorically speaking of course, hah ha…)

What makes you similar to and different from the audiences with whom you are sharing?

OE: I can’t really know my audiences, can I? I have an imaginary audience which I assume are mostly educated and interested in world affairs, who deeply value traveling and meeting new people and cultures, who are feminist or at least pro-feminist with a good command of English language. These are the similarities that came to my mind immediately. Because I produce work in English mostly, which is not my mother tongue, a major difference between myself and the imagined audience might be in our origins, family and education background as well as my extensive experience of travelling globally and living in different countries more than just a few weeks. 

What do you do beyond your scholarship? 

I love cooking vegetarian food Turkish, international, and improvised! I love taking walks, reading and writing stories. I don’t have a particular hobby or sports that I am obsessed with due to my personality and view of life. I enjoy being, just being, observing, and thinking. One might also say stories/histories are things that I can never get enough of. Recently, I have been thinking a lot about how to contribute to nature and be more in tune with it. I like spending time by the sea, in botanical gardens, bookstores, and libraries but the last one is true only for North America. I like dreaming and I sometimes write them if they feel very impactful. Call me a nerd but I also like reading the academic or creative works by the people I know, love and respect, including bright students’ work. 

What have you read, watched, heard lately that challenges and/or inspires you? 

I am reading a book by Volkan Yalazay (2019) Ancient Trees of Istanbul which in fact has many tree-related stories from other cities of Turkey with amazing photos. I keep returning to Ancient Trees - Portraits of Time (2014) by San Francisco-based photographer Beth Moon. I received this signed copy thanks to a gallery owner in Santa Fe. I have had a fascination with old trees since I can remember, which is a kind of mysterious thing that I can’t go into detail here. I enjoy all kinds of narratives that take place in nature no matter what genre actually. I saw a movie which received the best screenplay Oscar this year called A Promising Young Woman, which is promoted as a feminist thriller but it is much more than that. I really enjoyed the way it was done. My next reading is going to be Gabriel Marcel’s Homo Viator Introduction to the Metaphysic of Hope.

What questions do you wrestle with that keep you up at night? 

Oh, well… Because I wrestle with questions that keep me alert while I am awake all the time such as injustice and violence against all living beings and arts, I don’t wrestle much at night.  Joking aside, I try to get a good night’s sleep whenever I can since it is a major way to struggle with the problems that I deal with as an engaged scholar. Restful sleep is healing. 

What are your dreams for the young people in your life?

That they live in a more just, more physically connected and grounded world, that is not threatened by environmental crises one after another. I also hope that they can travel the world and feed themselves with the least possible carbon footprints. I am dreaming of a world where things are practiced by moderation, and there is room for off-screen and family time.

Where is home for you, geographically and metaphysically? 

I cannot possibly give you a short answer to this question without feeling it being very reductive and incomplete, I am sorry about that. I feel at home in international, multilingual, and intellectual settings near the water (preferably ocean or the Mediterranean) where people constantly learn from each other without meaning to, where there is genuine respect and love towards each other. There is a saying attributed to Sufism but can be found in many other schools of spirituality: “Being in this world, but not of this world” and I leave it there.  

How do those influences show up in your work? 

I guess in terms of moderation, and not feeling or acting in a materialistic and possessive manner, be it a partner or anything tangible that seems to be under my realm to an outsider. I know that all beings are temporarily entrusted to us and we are tested through them. I am not ambitious or obsessed with my work even when my limited vision tells me that it is the ‘right’ way to go or to act in a certain manner. I am aware of my situatedness thanks to the theory courses I took in college back in the mid-1990s . However, the kind of consciousness I am actually trying to express goes back to something deeper and more spiritual than reading Foucault or Harding.

Thank you so much Ozlem Ezer for your time.

This interview was conducted by Maria Fedele for her final paper for the course ANTH-158 Feminist Ethnographies, UC Santa Cruz.