Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Silopi: Weddings and intestines
Every day here in Turkey feels like a week because there is so much to discover and learn. Last night, Perihan, Selman’s sister-in-law (gorim in Kurdish), dressed me in some of her finest clothes, complete with head scarf. I wore the clothes around the house for the rest of the night. Suffice to say, people here were looking at me differently and some with love in their eyes, although I can’t really see the attraction. It was convenient because a very conservative aunt and her two daughters dropped by just after I put it on. They thought I was such a nice quiet girl and a good match for Selman!
Today we went to a wedding of two of Selman’s cousins, who are 16 and 17 years old. The groom (pictured at left) is the son of his uncle who has 3 wives and 32 children all living in the same house! I put on the outfit from last night, plus some make-up, and was told to just stay quiet and not draw attention to myself. I was the charge of Sema, Selman’s 17-year old sister, and we were quickly whisked off to the women’s room at the uncle’s home. Once they found out I am American, there were a million questions (which always include inquiries about my marital status and then why I am not married). We then went to the home of the bride. Gafur, the cousin who has been driving us around, found out I could drive and had been asking me to drive his car. I finally gave in when he insisted, not realizing what a spectacle it would be in Silopi. People watched with jaws dropped everywhere we went to see a woman in local clothing driving a car. A group of schoolboys fighting in the road stopp
ed and applauded as we went by and old men gawked on the side of the road as we passed. I was then put in charge of driving the bride and her friends to the hairdresser where we spent the next several hours. They put tons of gel and hairspray in her long black hair to create a fantasy of curls and spiraling tendrils. Despite my resistance, my makeup was quickly removed and redone with bright purples down to the nails. In the meantime, the men carried loads of the bride’s belongings to her new home in the car and a tractor and returned with the bridal car covered in ribbons, flowers, and gauze. I was put in charge of driving the bride to her house with instructions to honk the horn constantly. And that I did.
We came to the bride’s house to collect her family (maybe 20 cars worth with people packed in). I suppose her family was a bit scandalized by me because I was instructe
d to not drive her to the wedding because it is more appropriate that a man go first. Huh? But I still got to ride in the bridal car with Gafur, the bride, and her mother, grandmother, and sister. As we left, a group of boys had barricaded the road with rocks and demanded money to remove them. One yeni Turkish lira later (80 cents?), we were on our way to her new home. The grandmother sang a lovely Kurdish song and the bride’s entire head was covered in a red scarf. As we arrived, all the women were standing on the front steps. A woman broke an egg in the yard and dumped out a tray of candy that was quickly snatched up by the children, surely a rite of fertility for the new couple. The bride was taken to a room where she sat with women relatives and received guests.
Sema and I returned to the women’s room for food and tea and
about 20 women asked me questions and made jokes about me. Finally at sunset we returned home for a lovely dinner of lamb. Well, stuffed lamb intestines, tripe (stomach), neck meat (quite tender), and brain (mushy and tastes a bit like liver). I even ate an eyeball, which disturbingly has the consistency of pudding when cooked. Bob thought I was really enjoying it all so I might have missed a successful career as an actress. I think it’s rude in about any culture to gag while eating dinner so I was doing my best to look pleasant.
We ended the evening with a lively conversation on the differences in American and Kurdish culture, which are many. They have a tribal system with lords, arranged m
arriages, polygamy, and occasional honor killings. The women generally work in the house and have little economic freedom. Life is very different here and it makes me really appreciate the opportunities I have. However, differences in cultures do not necessarily imply differences in people, and the people here are very warm, friendly, and open. They are sharing their lives with us and treating us like royalty. I have grown quite attached to them and am so thankful for this amazing opportunity to meet them.
Today we went to a wedding of two of Selman’s cousins, who are 16 and 17 years old. The groom (pictured at left) is the son of his uncle who has 3 wives and 32 children all living in the same house! I put on the outfit from last night, plus some make-up, and was told to just stay quiet and not draw attention to myself. I was the charge of Sema, Selman’s 17-year old sister, and we were quickly whisked off to the women’s room at the uncle’s home. Once they found out I am American, there were a million questions (which always include inquiries about my marital status and then why I am not married). We then went to the home of the bride. Gafur, the cousin who has been driving us around, found out I could drive and had been asking me to drive his car. I finally gave in when he insisted, not realizing what a spectacle it would be in Silopi. People watched with jaws dropped everywhere we went to see a woman in local clothing driving a car. A group of schoolboys fighting in the road stopp
ed and applauded as we went by and old men gawked on the side of the road as we passed. I was then put in charge of driving the bride and her friends to the hairdresser where we spent the next several hours. They put tons of gel and hairspray in her long black hair to create a fantasy of curls and spiraling tendrils. Despite my resistance, my makeup was quickly removed and redone with bright purples down to the nails. In the meantime, the men carried loads of the bride’s belongings to her new home in the car and a tractor and returned with the bridal car covered in ribbons, flowers, and gauze. I was put in charge of driving the bride to her house with instructions to honk the horn constantly. And that I did.We came to the bride’s house to collect her family (maybe 20 cars worth with people packed in). I suppose her family was a bit scandalized by me because I was instructe
d to not drive her to the wedding because it is more appropriate that a man go first. Huh? But I still got to ride in the bridal car with Gafur, the bride, and her mother, grandmother, and sister. As we left, a group of boys had barricaded the road with rocks and demanded money to remove them. One yeni Turkish lira later (80 cents?), we were on our way to her new home. The grandmother sang a lovely Kurdish song and the bride’s entire head was covered in a red scarf. As we arrived, all the women were standing on the front steps. A woman broke an egg in the yard and dumped out a tray of candy that was quickly snatched up by the children, surely a rite of fertility for the new couple. The bride was taken to a room where she sat with women relatives and received guests.
Sema and I returned to the women’s room for food and tea and
about 20 women asked me questions and made jokes about me. Finally at sunset we returned home for a lovely dinner of lamb. Well, stuffed lamb intestines, tripe (stomach), neck meat (quite tender), and brain (mushy and tastes a bit like liver). I even ate an eyeball, which disturbingly has the consistency of pudding when cooked. Bob thought I was really enjoying it all so I might have missed a successful career as an actress. I think it’s rude in about any culture to gag while eating dinner so I was doing my best to look pleasant.We ended the evening with a lively conversation on the differences in American and Kurdish culture, which are many. They have a tribal system with lords, arranged m
arriages, polygamy, and occasional honor killings. The women generally work in the house and have little economic freedom. Life is very different here and it makes me really appreciate the opportunities I have. However, differences in cultures do not necessarily imply differences in people, and the people here are very warm, friendly, and open. They are sharing their lives with us and treating us like royalty. I have grown quite attached to them and am so thankful for this amazing opportunity to meet them.// posted by LaLa @ 1:00 AM 
