Under the (cloudy) Anatolian Skies
Erkan Ogur (http://www.erkanogur.net/) a Turkish musician who is one of the best names of ‘Anatolian jazz’ was in concert (‘under the Anatolian skies’) at the Royal Festival Hall on Wednesday, 15th March.
Except for some of his film music I didn’t know his work but it’s a duty to turn up at concerts of Turkish musicians in London! In the event, it was worth going to on its own right. ‘Anatolian jazz’ that was played on the night can in fact hardly be called ‘Anatolian’ since, while some of the tunes were inspired by Turkish folk music, it’s basically jazz…with lots of jamming...as it should be - universal and a little mad.
I liked it except for one thing, which is not a dislike as such but an observation: all the songs were intense…intensely searching, intensely yearning, intensely sad, intesenly rebellious…On the positive side, this intensity was an antidote to repetitive shallow rythms intended more for hips than senses (shikidam shikidam). On the other hand, one happy tune, one single happy tune, a glimpse of sunshine through the clouds would have been much appreciated.
Another Turkish concert is coming up in London. This time by a young group, Babazula (http://www.babazula.com/) , with at least some happy songs. The featured in the recent documentary of music in Istanbul (Crossing the Bridge). Check out the concert details at http://www.kazum.co.uk/
This is it for a couple of weeks. Busy week coming up and then on Saturday I am off for a short holiday to Morocco. Hopefully there will be many stories from there.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
A new agony uncle: “Brother Trust”
There is a new Turkish language monthly women’s magazine in London: the first of its kind in fact. It’s only four months old. I got in touch with the Editor through a friend and it looks like I may be writing for them every now and then.
To start with, they asked me to write about their agony uncle. This agony uncle lives in Turkey and is called ‘Brother Trust’ (or Guven Abi in Turkish). Given that the main preoccupation of women is men (just as the main preoccupation of men is women), it’s much more logical for a women’s magazine to have an agony uncle than an agony aunt!
In his first article, he recounts his conversation with the Editor and how she persuaded him to take up the position. In his hesitation, he asks her ‘I don’t know anything about the concerns of Turkish speaking women over there…what am I supposed to write?’ That got me thinking.
I guess, in general, every woman has similar concerns (like every man does). But there are perhaps two main differences for a Turkish speaking woman (or man) in the UK (for that matter any immigrant in any country).
The first one is about format: having to write Turkish using an English keyboard. Well, OK, this one is only valid for speakers of languages that use hybrid alphabets. Those who are not as lazy as I am download Turkish software or buy Turkish keyboards. But I am lazy. So sometimes, letters i, o, u, g, s, c, appear in the most inconvenient places (that is, instead of ı, ö, ü, ğ, ş, ç). This leads to a particularly funny mistake every now and then when i gets mistaken for ı which turns the Turkish word ‘bored’ to ‘f****d’….it’s not impossible to be both at the same time but that usually is not what the writer wishes to convey….apologies for lowering the tone.
The second is about content. It’s the very fact of living abroad. To borrow the phrase I used in a recent post: that is the problem of being ‘twice a stranger’. I’ve adapted well to British society (or shall I say London?) but even so there is always something missing. Although I’ve been only very rarely made to feel a stranger, there is something missing. But we are strangers to Turkey, too. On holiday in southern Turkey a few years ago, someone asked me: ‘you speak very good Turkish, where did you learn?’ I laughed at it at the time but can you imagine how (unintentionally) hurtful a question this could be? Never mind.
I guess other than these two, the concerns and problems are the same. There are Turkish speaking women here who, despite living half an hour’s bus ride away, have never been to central London; just as there are women in Istanbul who have never seen the sea. Then, there are those like me who live more closely with the rest of the British society, and, whose foreignness and gender have not been obstacles for them, but nevertheless long to hear a dear one say ‘canim, bir tanem, hayatim’ (my soul, my one and only, my life…wonderful terms of endearment). I am not saying these words come easily to Turkish speaking men or when said are actually meant whatever the language.
What’s clear is that Turkey we miss and Turkey we’ve missed out on are two different but equally worthy places to long for. But perhaps having such longings is what makes one more appreciative of what’s there as well as what’s missing.
There is a new Turkish language monthly women’s magazine in London: the first of its kind in fact. It’s only four months old. I got in touch with the Editor through a friend and it looks like I may be writing for them every now and then.
To start with, they asked me to write about their agony uncle. This agony uncle lives in Turkey and is called ‘Brother Trust’ (or Guven Abi in Turkish). Given that the main preoccupation of women is men (just as the main preoccupation of men is women), it’s much more logical for a women’s magazine to have an agony uncle than an agony aunt!
In his first article, he recounts his conversation with the Editor and how she persuaded him to take up the position. In his hesitation, he asks her ‘I don’t know anything about the concerns of Turkish speaking women over there…what am I supposed to write?’ That got me thinking.
I guess, in general, every woman has similar concerns (like every man does). But there are perhaps two main differences for a Turkish speaking woman (or man) in the UK (for that matter any immigrant in any country).
The first one is about format: having to write Turkish using an English keyboard. Well, OK, this one is only valid for speakers of languages that use hybrid alphabets. Those who are not as lazy as I am download Turkish software or buy Turkish keyboards. But I am lazy. So sometimes, letters i, o, u, g, s, c, appear in the most inconvenient places (that is, instead of ı, ö, ü, ğ, ş, ç). This leads to a particularly funny mistake every now and then when i gets mistaken for ı which turns the Turkish word ‘bored’ to ‘f****d’….it’s not impossible to be both at the same time but that usually is not what the writer wishes to convey….apologies for lowering the tone.
The second is about content. It’s the very fact of living abroad. To borrow the phrase I used in a recent post: that is the problem of being ‘twice a stranger’. I’ve adapted well to British society (or shall I say London?) but even so there is always something missing. Although I’ve been only very rarely made to feel a stranger, there is something missing. But we are strangers to Turkey, too. On holiday in southern Turkey a few years ago, someone asked me: ‘you speak very good Turkish, where did you learn?’ I laughed at it at the time but can you imagine how (unintentionally) hurtful a question this could be? Never mind.
I guess other than these two, the concerns and problems are the same. There are Turkish speaking women here who, despite living half an hour’s bus ride away, have never been to central London; just as there are women in Istanbul who have never seen the sea. Then, there are those like me who live more closely with the rest of the British society, and, whose foreignness and gender have not been obstacles for them, but nevertheless long to hear a dear one say ‘canim, bir tanem, hayatim’ (my soul, my one and only, my life…wonderful terms of endearment). I am not saying these words come easily to Turkish speaking men or when said are actually meant whatever the language.
What’s clear is that Turkey we miss and Turkey we’ve missed out on are two different but equally worthy places to long for. But perhaps having such longings is what makes one more appreciative of what’s there as well as what’s missing.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Changing your life and other updates
I said I was going to go to the One Life exhibition to get some inspiration for changing / improving my life and report back.
Well, I am reporting back to say that I didn’t go…I was planning to go yesterday but thought ‘If I am going to change my life I am going to do it myself’. I don’t know if this is a sign of me taking charge or just an excuse to hide my lethargy…
Instead I went to my local library to get a trashy novel and then to the Broadway Market for some shopping. I can report that the campaign for Spirit is continuing in full swing (see the January entry about it).
Another local campaign, this time at the Roman Road Market, is against the construction plans for Cross Rail. They are planning to dig the tunnel from the middle, i.e. a shaft near Spitalfields, then carry the soil along two-lane-wide inner city roads in trucks, dump it in Mile End Park to be taken away by train….That is the Park for which they spent £12.5 million only 6-7 years ago! And trucks are planned to run 24 hours a day for years and years during the construction period……And on streets that have buildings on either side, streets that you can cross in less than 10 steps. It’s a stupid idea if there ever was any and I am glad there is a campaign against it. I signed the petition and will keep a close eye on the developments.
I said I was going to go to the One Life exhibition to get some inspiration for changing / improving my life and report back.
Well, I am reporting back to say that I didn’t go…I was planning to go yesterday but thought ‘If I am going to change my life I am going to do it myself’. I don’t know if this is a sign of me taking charge or just an excuse to hide my lethargy…
Instead I went to my local library to get a trashy novel and then to the Broadway Market for some shopping. I can report that the campaign for Spirit is continuing in full swing (see the January entry about it).
Another local campaign, this time at the Roman Road Market, is against the construction plans for Cross Rail. They are planning to dig the tunnel from the middle, i.e. a shaft near Spitalfields, then carry the soil along two-lane-wide inner city roads in trucks, dump it in Mile End Park to be taken away by train….That is the Park for which they spent £12.5 million only 6-7 years ago! And trucks are planned to run 24 hours a day for years and years during the construction period……And on streets that have buildings on either side, streets that you can cross in less than 10 steps. It’s a stupid idea if there ever was any and I am glad there is a campaign against it. I signed the petition and will keep a close eye on the developments.
Where does wisdom lie?
Is it in knowing everything in the world enough to see the general patterns? Like all types of human character, how each will act under different circumstances, how one should treat a particular type of person etc. Until very recently I used to think this is where wisdom lied. We live, experience, read, listen, share: all so that we collect information which we then classify and categorise and then call up when we need to know how to analyse what we see and hear and how to behave in different circumstances.
I am beginning to think this is not the case…and that perhaps wisdom lies in not resorting to generalisation? After all generalisations are nothing but the product of our own analysis so they can only be as good as what we are exposed to and our ability to analyse them.
Yes, perhaps, wisdom lies in having the openness to take every event and every person as they come and in having the strength to deal with the outcome if it doesn’t fit with the generalisations.
Or, perhaps, wisdom lies in not pontificating without knowing what one is talking about! Well, at least it’s off my chest…
Is it in knowing everything in the world enough to see the general patterns? Like all types of human character, how each will act under different circumstances, how one should treat a particular type of person etc. Until very recently I used to think this is where wisdom lied. We live, experience, read, listen, share: all so that we collect information which we then classify and categorise and then call up when we need to know how to analyse what we see and hear and how to behave in different circumstances.
I am beginning to think this is not the case…and that perhaps wisdom lies in not resorting to generalisation? After all generalisations are nothing but the product of our own analysis so they can only be as good as what we are exposed to and our ability to analyse them.
Yes, perhaps, wisdom lies in having the openness to take every event and every person as they come and in having the strength to deal with the outcome if it doesn’t fit with the generalisations.
Or, perhaps, wisdom lies in not pontificating without knowing what one is talking about! Well, at least it’s off my chest…
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Rants and Roundabouts
It’s been only a week since I’ve last written but it feels longer…I’ve been travelling through life at high speed and slightly drunken and I don’t even have a car…
The weekend was particularly peculiar. The Guardian Travel section featured Istanbul on the ‘been there’ pages. Readers are encouraged to send tips about a city each week. Usually the feature takes up the two middle pages. This time though there was an ad on almost the entirety of one of the pages…not even an ad about Turkey but BA flights to Bahamas. Pah!
I’d got up early (on a Saturday I let you know) to get the paper to see if they published any of my tips. They did – three of them in fact. But there was no mention of any of the ‘must sees’, nothing on any of the palaces, Aya Sofya, none of the mosques…nothing, nada, zilch. It’s an insult to such a city.
I don’t usually subscribe to the school that thinks everyone is against the Turks. But if there was ever a last drop, this is it…I’ve given up. I put the paper down and thought to myself ‘I am leaving’…I used to feel part of London, used to sit in the tube and feel at home (you know what I mean, the feeling of belonging to a place not because the tube is comfortable). But now, I sit in the tube, the bus, bars, anywhere and feel a stranger. ‘Twice a Stranger’ in fact to quote the title of an interesting book by The Economist journalist Bruce Clark: a stranger here and (probably) a stranger in Turkey. I always knew there was an element of truth in this but looked at it positively – when you are a stranger to places, in a strange way, every place can be yours…anyway, difficult to explain. But now, I just feel twice a stranger.
I’ve also learnt that while I may not have mastered the art of getting people to help me to make life easier, I am capable of using them. Someone said to me at the weekend that I only talk to him when I am lonely and in need of company. He was right. I am not saying he deserves more but at least he had the guts to tell it to me as it is. I had to agree.
Anyway, I went to a stand up gig tonight to cheer myself up. The MsC sung a few songs. One them goes: you are just another roundabout on the ring road of my life. Roundabout indeed….ring road: even more apt. And I don’t even have a car.
It’s been only a week since I’ve last written but it feels longer…I’ve been travelling through life at high speed and slightly drunken and I don’t even have a car…
The weekend was particularly peculiar. The Guardian Travel section featured Istanbul on the ‘been there’ pages. Readers are encouraged to send tips about a city each week. Usually the feature takes up the two middle pages. This time though there was an ad on almost the entirety of one of the pages…not even an ad about Turkey but BA flights to Bahamas. Pah!
I’d got up early (on a Saturday I let you know) to get the paper to see if they published any of my tips. They did – three of them in fact. But there was no mention of any of the ‘must sees’, nothing on any of the palaces, Aya Sofya, none of the mosques…nothing, nada, zilch. It’s an insult to such a city.
I don’t usually subscribe to the school that thinks everyone is against the Turks. But if there was ever a last drop, this is it…I’ve given up. I put the paper down and thought to myself ‘I am leaving’…I used to feel part of London, used to sit in the tube and feel at home (you know what I mean, the feeling of belonging to a place not because the tube is comfortable). But now, I sit in the tube, the bus, bars, anywhere and feel a stranger. ‘Twice a Stranger’ in fact to quote the title of an interesting book by The Economist journalist Bruce Clark: a stranger here and (probably) a stranger in Turkey. I always knew there was an element of truth in this but looked at it positively – when you are a stranger to places, in a strange way, every place can be yours…anyway, difficult to explain. But now, I just feel twice a stranger.
I’ve also learnt that while I may not have mastered the art of getting people to help me to make life easier, I am capable of using them. Someone said to me at the weekend that I only talk to him when I am lonely and in need of company. He was right. I am not saying he deserves more but at least he had the guts to tell it to me as it is. I had to agree.
Anyway, I went to a stand up gig tonight to cheer myself up. The MsC sung a few songs. One them goes: you are just another roundabout on the ring road of my life. Roundabout indeed….ring road: even more apt. And I don’t even have a car.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
