Headscarves: a sin?

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=132656

Turkey is a Muslim country, isn’t it? And in Islam headscarves are strongly recommended for women who have come of age.


So how come it is forbidden by law to wear one in the public sphere here, such as at universities?
I cannot describe the feeling of embarrassment and sadness that I feel every time such questions are posed to me by guests from my homeland, Malaysia.

I could only reply with “That’s just how things are,” and leave further explanation of my statement to my husband.

It is not my place to condemn. It is not my place to bombard the country my husband and children are citizens of with criticism. In a way, this is also my land. A place I have called home for so many years.

However, one can’t help but feel sadness to see that in a country where 99 percent of the population is Muslim, there is this fear and opposition toward one of the obligations of the religion of Islam: the wearing of the headscarf.

From a foreigner’s perspective, one cannot help but ask: Why such fear? Why are the people against headscarves?

Is this because the people are ashamed to declare themselves Muslims? Is it because they think that when one wears the headscarf, she is no longer “worldly” and “sophisticated”?

Such opposition and fear I personally find extremely childish and silly. People wear headscarves. So what? Why the fuss about what one wears or does? Who are you to decide what others should wear and what they should not wear? What harm do people with headscarves cause to the country to make wearing headscarves in government institutions forbidden? As far as I can see, the people with headscarves mind their own business and hope that those around them will respect their choice of clothing style without being gawked at as if they have done something wrong.

Coming from a multiethnic country with a variety of religions and beliefs freely practiced, I truly find the current situation in Turkey depressing. The freedom to practice one’s own religion is restricted. And worse, people who set the laws to forbid headscarves come from the same religion! That makes the whole situation more pathetic than ever. Where is the open-mindedness of the people? Or is there a hidden plot?

Take Malaysia for example. Do all Muslims there wear headscarves? The answer is no. Muslims around the world or those of other religions vary in their level of religious devotion. Some are more devoted, others less.

The same is true with Muslims in Malaysia. Some wear headscarves while others do not. Some cover their bodies with modest clothing as suggested by Islam while others wear extremely sexy clothing. But do we condemn each other? Do we make a law that requires Muslims should wear this or that? Do we focus on one group or the other in the media? No we do not. We respect each other’s life choices even if we personally disapprove of them. We do not degrade each other. No one is made fun of. The golden rule is to respect each other (regardless of religion and lifestyle) so that we can all live in harmony. Which brings us back to the question: Why can’t Turkey? There is one dominant religion here and the headscarf debate has become a major issue when it really should not be.

I clearly remember one of our holidays last year. My husband attended a conference in Çeşme, and the kids and I decided to tag along. I was personally quite worried since I wear a headscarf.
Will they allow me to enter the pool or the beach with my “tesettür” (Islamic) swimwear, I wondered.

It was an international conference and nobody said anything since I am clearly a foreigner, though I did speak Turkish with my children. What I noticed was, being the only one in the tesettur swimwear, people -- and especially the Turks -- stared at me unabashedly. I think they just couldn’t believe their eyes, seeing that a headscarved person dared to be there. They disapproved of my presence but I ignored them all. I had the right to be there just like everyone else. I actually giggled when one of the Turks could no longer contain his curiosity and finally approached me to ask in his Turkish-English accent, “Where are you from?”

Frankly speaking, it was uncomfortable to be there as well for me. It was no fun to be stared at when you were trying to enjoy a nice holiday with your children. But I think in the audacity of my presence, I hope I had made the point that everyone is free to be where they want to be. I did not feel such opposition from people from other countries. That is why I think people opposed to the headscarf need to rethink their own personal views and need to be more open minded. I remember one summer when a group of ladies dared to defy the norm and went to the beach in Bodrum with headscarves and full covering -- they were shown on TV!

It was also during that one holiday in Çeşme that a particular incident really made me sad. My kids and I decided to swim in one of the hotel’s pools. A group of young people (male and female) were already there, diving and swimming. The moment we entered the pool, they started to move to the other side of the pool, looked at each other and began to give us dirty looks while whispering to each other. Being the stubborn person that I am, I stood my ground and stayed in the pool until my children had enough fun swimming and playing there.

The moment we left the poolside area to head for the beach, the group of young people started to cheer. Despite all the “attitude” I encountered, I did enjoy my holiday immensely. Maybe that is because I am not “normal”, as people with headscarves usually choose not to burden themselves with such stares. They prefer places where headscarved women gather. With the exception of that one holiday, we do too.

But that is not a solution. The point is that Turks should learn to respect each other’s life choices. They should be more open-minded. The sad thing is that not every Turk opposes headscarves. This opposition only comes from a certain group of people. However, this group of people controls the law, the media and, with that, manages to influence the minds of those less educated. This is a pity really because, in my opinion at least, the Turks are among the warmest people I have ever met -- second only to Malaysians, of course!

The fact that the present government is trying hard to lift the ban on headscarves at universities is wonderful news indeed. I think those wearing headscarves in this country only ask for simple things: fairness and respect. This is not too much to ask for as it is their right to ask for it.

Not too long ago I read in a newspaper that the Republican People’s Party’s (CHP) MP Canan Arıtman said, “Örtülerinizi atın, özgürleşin” (take off your headscarves and be free!). I think her concept of freedom is wrongly misplaced, because freedom entails the ability to choose for oneself what to wear and not to be told what to wear. Fine, she has her own view and is free to express it. But neither Arıtman nor anyone else has the right to force anyone else to conform to such a predefined concept of freedom.

There is also fear among some people that Turkey will become like Malaysia, with headscarves being one of the topics in question. From Malaysian’s perspective, there is no way Turkey can become Malaysia if the people are not free to be what they want to be.

29.01.2008
SİMAH ZAİM İSTANBUL

A New Year in Turkey

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=130405

I was brought up to practice my own religion of Islam, as well as to respect what others believe, regardless of how different their beliefs are from mine. I grew up in Malaysia, a multi-ethnic country with Malays, Chinese, Indians, Iban, Kadazan, Dayak and many other ethnic groups.


That is why it comes naturally for me to wish my friends “Selamat Hari Raya” for Eid celebrations (for Muslims), “Gong Xi Fa Cai” for Chinese New Year (for Buddhists), “Selamat Hari Deepavali,” for Divali (for Hindus) or “Merry Christmas” (for Christians). As a kid, I used to count the days until the next religious celebration because the celebration would bring with it a school holiday and the day would be very festive, with holiday songs in the media as well as among the public.

Of course, after coming to Turkey, I was no longer able to witness such celebrations since 99 percent of the population here is Muslim. Naturally, as far as religious holidays go, only the two Eids (Ramazan Bayramı and Kurban Bayramı) are officially celebrated. Turks celebrate other days, too, such as Independence Day. But what interests me most among the days Turks celebrate is New Year’s Eve.

I don’t understand how Turks can fuse the Christmas celebration with the new year. From what I have seen, those in the general population put up a Christmas tree and decorate the tree just like Christians do when they celebrate Christmas. People buy mistletoe and exchange gifts with each other. And more interestingly, they cook Turkey for dinner as is usually done for the American Thanksgiving.

I truly wonder why this occurs. What are the roots of such practices? Why is there such a mix of traditions? What connection does Christmas have with New Year’s celebrations, particularly since the general population is Muslim. Is it because of the famous song

“We wish you a Merry Christmas

We wish you a Merry Christmas

We wish you a Merry Christmas

And a Happy New Year”

that the celebrations are combined?

Like I said, I am not against any other religion, but the practice of mixing a Christian celebration with the New Year’s celebration is a serious flaw since I personally believe that a religious celebration should be celebrated as it is and should not be confused and mixed with other celebrations.

Which makes me wonder, do Turks in general realize such confusion? Or is this a deliberate act of mixing the two into one? True, celebration of the coming of a new year is no big deal. One is free to celebrate it in any way one wishes. It is, after all, a personal choice. It may be somewhat natural for Christians to celebrate the new year with their Christmas decorations still up in their homes since the real Christmas celebration was only a few days earlier. However, for people from other religions to mix Christmas with New Year’s celebrations, I think, in general, is odd.
The year 2007 is coming to an end. The question is, how far are we from where we were last year? Have we achieved our aims for this year? Or will we have to continue work on this year’s aims next year? I think you will agree that this is a suitable time for us to do some self reflection and to analyze our achievements and failures this year.

Like almost everyone else, I will be spending my New Year’s celebration with my family. As with every year, we will all get together and have a big family dinner. This year, Halil’s aunt has offered to cook us pehli, a Turkish food. I can’t wait. No, we do not have a Christmas tree; yes, we do give out small gifts to the children in the family. But that is as far as our New Year’s celebration goes.

To me, it is a time to celebrate each other, how we have been able to still stay together as a close-knit family all year long. It is a time to celebrate each other, with hope that the coming year will bring a multitude of happy moments. Of course, 2007 will always be a year none of us will forget in my family. The pain of losing someone so dear is still very fresh. May 2008 bring more hope and sunshine to us all.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

31.12.2007
SIMAH ZAİM İSTANBUL

It is an Honour to be Honoured in Life, as well as in Death

Baba..i miss you still...

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=129157

My father-in-law Professor Sabahattin Zaim, whom I called Baba, a prominent educator in Turkey, died peacefully at 4.15 a.m. last Sunday due to lymphoma at the age of 81, after dedicating all his life to education and charitable causes.


I was expecting a crowd, naturally. Baba was no ordinary man. But that didn't prepare me for the flock of people who crowded the inside of Fatih Camii, as well those who gathered in the outside area of the mosque where Baba was to be prayed over before burial, as is common Islamic practice. They were as numerous as ants. More than a thousand of them. They all came with one common goal: to pay their last respects to Professor Sabahattin Zaim, also known as "Hocaların hocası" (the educator of educators).

From the moment news traveled of his death, very early in the morning, his most beloved and closest students and previous university assistants flocked to his apartment, where they gathered and arranged his funeral. They dealt with the announcements, security, the bathing of the corpse, transportation -- even the food to be served to guests who came to his apartment to visit or for prayer (dua) readings. All were eager to do their final service to their beloved "hoca," leaving the family to grieve freely without the hassle of red tape.

It was a beautiful funeral because I could see how loved he was from the crowd of people who came for the prayer. Men and women openly cried at the loss of their beloved hoca. Even the prime minister and the president came to pay their last respects as the funeral was shown live on TV. How many educators do you see being honored like that, that both the prime minister and president help carry the coffin to the waiting transportation before burial? I knew that Baba had touched the lives of many, but the crowd at Fatih Camii was living proof of the love and respect he had gained over the course of his life. Special soil was even brought from the Holy Land to cover his grave. This is a clear example of how educators gain recognition among the people in this country.

But to us, his closest living relatives, he was simply himself. A father to Mehveş, Selim, Kerim, Abdul Halim and Halil. A father-in-law to Mesut, Funda, İclal, Özlem and myself. A grandpa to Merve, Safa, Keremcan, Zeynep, Nur Hatice, Sabahaddin, Ülya Elif, Ediz, Ekrem and Mustafa. A loved one for many other relatives.

To me he was simply Baba. The man who was open minded enough to respect his son's decision to marry a woman he had never met whom his son had met on the ICQ Internet chat. A man who, in my early days as his daughter-in-law, used to give me encouragement to adapt to this new land. A man who was a wonderful grandfather to both my kids, Nur Hatice and Sabahaddin. A man I still remember very clearly, particularly in the last three days of his life, whom I sensed had found his peace, who knew he would die soon and had resigned himself to his fate with a smile.

It is still warm in my memory how cheeky and cute he was that last Wednesday of his life; the way he tried to make jokes even in his fragile condition; the way his eyes twinkled as he tried to show me his preferred way of feeding him his tea (I couldn't get it right till the end); the way he smiled when something tickled him, or the times when I caught him staring at me with a warm smile when he thought I was not looking; or the way he smiled, just like a cute boy -- especially without his teeth. He was at peace with everything, which scared me desperately as I sensed that his time was near.

But what I remember most is the brightest smile he flashed at us as my kids and I visited him at 8.30 a.m. in hospital on that last Saturday morning. He was very happy to see his grandchildren; he stared at them for a while, let them kiss his cheeks as he smiled. I even managed to feed him his last breakfast; fruit yogurt and tea. He lost consciousness a few hours later, never to return again.

I remember my last words to him: "Bye-bye, Baba," instead of the normal "Allaha Ismarladık." Little did I know that I was saying my last farewell.

In this family we used to have two Sabahaddins: one Sabahattin Dede (the grandpa: Baba was named Sabahaddin by his parents, but the registrar spelled his name wrong as Sabahattin) and one Sabahaddin (the grandson). Now that the Sabahattin Dede is gone, only one Sabahaddin is left behind. The loss of his presence is felt deeply by the grandchildren in particular; tears still roll down their cheeks when they think of their grandfather. But one thing that comforts us all is that Baba is free from all mortal pain. May his soul be placed among those who are blessed. Baba, we love you very much. May peace be upon you.

12.12.2007
SIMAH ZAİM İSTANBUL

Health and Care

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=128475

I couldn't help but envy him. There he was, lying sick on the hospital bed, recovering from surgery he underwent a day earlier. He was surrounded not only by his relatives and children, but also by in-laws, nephews, nieces and a continuous stream of visitors, though only a few stayed at one time, so as not to overcrowd the room.


The Sema Hospital in Maltepe, where he was staying, was a private hospital with excellent service. True, they had postponed his surgery at the last minute, which greatly angered us. Nonetheless, the service somehow made up for that. On the day he was admitted I thought the room was gorgeous. It had everything: an LCD flat-screen TV, a mini-fridge, couches, a wardrobe, a big bathroom, and a window with a beautiful view of İstanbul. A new private hospital with 5-star-hotel accommodation -- one can't ask for more. I think the nurse must have come to his room almost every 15 minutes to ask whether he needed anything at all. The staff was very helpful, with smiling faces all around.

The second day, they transferred him to a suite. Wow! I couldn't stop gasping with surprise. This time, the room was even bigger. And connecting to the main room was another room the size of the room that he previously occupied. Everything was doubled: two closets, a double bathroom, two TVs, and many, many more couches. This was, after all, an A-group private hospital. True, it was not as massive as the Acıbadem Hospital, which is even more sophisticated, but when you are being treated with sincere warmth and a smile, you can't help but feel comfortable. My father-in-law even felt so well taken care of that he decided to extend his stay at the hospital. This is something that should be an example for other hospitals. It was truly wonderful customer service.

Looking at Baba (my father-in-law) and at the comfort he was in despite his sickness, my mind suddenly flashed back to the first time I went to a hospital in İstanbul, eight years ago. Unlike Baba, I went to a public hospital. I was not used to the Turkish environment at all and I had a kidney infection.

When we went to one of the local public hospitals, I was shocked to see rows of people waiting to see a doctor. Many were running around with papers from door to door, counter to counter. There were queues upon queues to get signatures from this person and that. It seemed that there was so much red tape to just get a simple medical check-up that I was confident that by the time that sick person finished all the necessary paperwork, he would have fainted -- or worse! Maybe they should faint to get faster medical service? After all, if one faints, there will be plenty of doctors around. It was totally overcrowded and terribly unsystematic, which is very unlike the health system I was used to in Malaysia. So much red tape, it was a nightmare!

I couldn't imagine myself as one of those people. It was totally suffocating. That was then. When I asked my sister-in-law (who is trained as a doctor) about the situation now, she said everything is even worse. Public hospitals are more overcrowded than ever, particularly in İstanbul. Recently a system has been introduced in which patients are given numbers to indicate their place in the queue (just like when you wait for your queue at the bank). I assume that this is the only logical thing to do these days, since the number of patients is increasing daily. With such crowds, it is beyond my comprehension how the doctors and hospital staffs cope with their jobs.

There are other things about the Turkish public hospitals that put me in awe. When my husband's uncle was very sick, the hospital called the family asking for three pints of blood. The family, panicked and thinking that the uncle had some sort of internal bleeding, rushed to donate the blood. It appeared as though the hospital had asked for the blood so they could sell it to cover expenses. This is a question of morality. How can someone in such a trusted position lie and play with emotions like this. Wouldn't it be easier for the hospital to simply talk openly with the family and say that they need money to cover expenses? Trust me, the family would much rather pay the money than go through all the anxiety.

Another incident occurred when one of the family's nephews was in surgery. While the family was waiting for the surgery to finish, a member of the hospital staff came and asked for a surgeon's suture and needle. Can you imagine how that felt, no suture and needles while the child was in surgery? The uncles of course rushed from one pharmacy to another, looking for the requested material. With great difficulty, they found the items and brought them to the hospital, thinking that the hospital needed them immediately. It was only later that they discovered the items the hospital had asked for were to cover the thread and needles that the surgeons used during the surgery. Again, where is the morality?

I am not saying that every public hospital is bad. I am just citing the incidents that our family has dealt with. This does not necessarily represent the whole public health system (though it may be true for the overcrowded İstanbul public hospitals). That I leave to real Turks to decide.

I remember a time when my husband was in great pain. We were in our summer home in Sapanca. My hubby and I rushed to the hospital in Adapazarı. We went to the emergency entrance. I was impressed by the efficiency of the hospital staff. Within half an hour, my hubby had gone through several tests and we discovered that he had stone in his kidney. I certainly didn't expect such efficiency especially from such a small public hospital.

Now what about private hospitals? There are 150 private hospitals throughout İstanbul. Are they any better than public hospitals? Certainly, there are fewer crowds in private hospitals, since the costs are so much more (depending of the grade of the hospital). Unlike public hospitals, the private sector health system works on an appointment system. There is a staff specially set aside for managing appointments. It is much more systematic, of course. And there is less waiting. Comfort is the name of the game. The luxury of the stay is beyond description -- if you are willing to pay more, of course. Some A-group hospitals are even more luxurious than some five-star hotels. But then, not all private hospitals are in the A group. Some private hospitals have only 10 beds.

So what is the conclusion here? Are all public hospitals bad and all private hospitals good? My sister-in-law says she strongly believes that the quality of doctors in the public hospitals in general is higher since the doctors are working not for the money but for the love of their profession. The doctors in the private hospitals are much more focused on the money. Then again, this is not true of all doctors in the private sector. There are, naturally, good doctors there, too. Who are we to question who is a good doctor and who is not?

Doctors -- both public and private -- take a vow to save lives when they enter the profession. It is their responsibility to do their best in the profession and not be blinded by money. The Ministry of Health should do something about the system in the public hospitals so that the red tape can be decreased. Perhaps the people who set the rules in the public health sector should try lining up in one of their own queues someday. After all, if these people are sick, they will have plenty of money to receive treatment from a plenty private hospital. As a leaders elected to serve the people, one should definitely understand the people first. This I know for certain is the recipe for a good leader.

03.12.2007
SIMAH ZAİM İSTANBUL

Developing Potential

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=127439

My father-in- law, Professor Sabahattin Zaim, a retired professor and a wise man, once said to his children and daughters-in-law:

"It is nonsense for one to say that he has no potential. Everybody has potential, though each person's potential is different."

According to him, there are three things that affect one's potential:

1. Sometimes the people around a person fail to see his potential. This person may not even recognize his own potential. The end result will be that his potential is buried inside him -- unidentified and undeveloped. Thus, he will believe that he has no gift or talent.

2. Some people took the wrong path in the education system, learning things that did not further their natural abilities. Consequently, their best traits could not be developed, leading them to think that they do not have any potential.

3. When some people enter into the working world, they cannot find a job that fully utilizes and sharpens their abilities. Again, these people are left with a lingering sense of dissatisfaction and doubt about their potential.

Those who recognize their own potential, receive an education that develops this potential and find a job that puts it to use are usually those with the greatest success in life. They are the ones who use their full potential to achieve satisfaction in life.

I have two children. As a mom whose kids are learning in the Turkish education system, I can't help but analyze them. I cannot speak for the Turkish education system in general. I am no expert on it. After all, I am only a simple housewife and I am not a Turkish citizen. Thus, I can only speak of the education as I have observed it through my children's experiences.
My children are going to one of the private Coşkun schools. My daughter is in the first grade, while my son is in preschool. Both are studying in the same school.

Let us analyze my son, for example. He is the youngest. As last-borns often are, he is very dependent on me. He is quite behind in his speech skills as he only began speaking Turkish (as his first language) properly at the age of 3 and a half. The same goes with his motor skills and social skills. Though he has an intelligent and creative mind, due to the lack of other skills, he tends to keep himself in a world of imaginary friends and surroundings. He was quite a hopeless case. He needed help.

Two months after he began school, I saw a big change in him. Thanks to his education, my son is beginning to come out of his shell. His motor skills have been improving and he no longer hides himself in his own world. Instead, he is now making friends with his classmates. He is beginning to find himself and his potential.

The school uses a special system that emphasizes the development of the children. There is a consultant who monitors the children's development. Seminars are conducted for parents to understand their children's development. They make great effort to promote the development and potentials of their students. Potential development is among the main focus of the school. I saw my son's teacher trying to teach him to hold a pen properly and how to use a spoon. I even saw how she hugged him with love and compassion. It is in this environment, with attentive, dedicated and compassionate teachers and staff, that i see my son thriving and finding his potential. In such an atmosphere, a child cannot help but feel encouraged to find his personal potential.

I saw the same thing with my daughter when she was in preschool. Though her situation was entirely the opposite of my son, since she was one of the best students in her class, I still saw big changes in her after she started her education in the school. She has always been interested in art. But once she started school, her interest increased drastically and her mind began working non-stop to create art. Now that she is in first grade and learning how to read and write, she is again excelling in a learning environment that is conducive to developing her potential. In short, both of my children are in an education system that does not bury whatever special characteristic a child has, but instead nourishes it.

I think this is important in any educational system, be it in private schools or public schools. True, the development of the child's potential should start at home, but as the child will be spending many of his or her years in education, it is important for schools in Turkey to create a system in which the potentials of each of the students can be recognized and helped to flourish. Such environments are vital for producing more dynamic and successful future generations. For what we invest in them now will obviously be multiplied in the contributions they make to they country when they grow up.

20.11.2007
SIMAH ZAIM İSTANBUL

I Will Gladly Take the Back Seat, Thank You!

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=126342

My early life as a new bride in this new land started with mostly me holding onto the seats of the transportation I used to take, be it private or public, and praying hard that my life wouldn’t end so soon.

Just imagine this: There you are, driving a car. You enter a street. That street is a two way street. It has two nicely built lanes for just two cars. Yet, people seem to park their cars on the left side and the right side of the street, leaving just enough space for one car to pass by. You are heading in one direction but there is also another car coming from the opposite side. Who will pass first? There is only enough space for one car to pass at a time. You or the other driver? You have the right to pass first as much as the other driver. It is a two-way street, after all. So what can you do?

Surprisingly, there is an unspoken culture here -- at least among the drivers. Someone will stop in the space in front of the car park entrance of an apartment (İstanbul is full of apartment buildings), letting the car coming from the opposite direction pass by. This is a systematic system where someone will pass first and someone will have to wait for his or her turn to pass next.

How do they decide who will pass first? I have no idea. Usually, the driver uses lights to signal that he or she will pass first while the other driver will wait patiently for his or her turn. This happens on most residential streets. What is so scary was (and still is), usually, each car will pass each other with just a few inches between the two. Of course sometimes both cars do want to pass through at the same time, and that is when you can start hearing honking and angry shouts. That for me was and is really scary.

For me, someone used to the wide roads of Malaysia, as well as being a bit (that’s an understatement!) afraid of tiny spaces and contact, I kept shrieking, “Halil! You are going to hit the other car,” to my hubby, irritating him a lot. Most drivers in İstanbul are so used to driving like this that they see nothing wrong with it.

My first public transportation experience was a blue minibus going to Kadıköy. The driver honked every time he saw a possible customer. As I entered the minibus, Halil and I were lucky enough to get a seat in the back of the minibus (it was a 14-seater minibus). I noticed that Halil took out the bus fare for both of us and passed the money to the person in front of him while mentioning our destination. The money made its way from one person to another and finally reached the driver. You can also pay the driver directly, but that may involve some acrobatics as the bus sways back and forth due to the roads and the frequent stops. It’s far easier to sit down and then pay as we did.

The driver, one hand holding the steering wheel, used his other hand to take the money. He counted the change and passed the money back, which made its way back to us eventually. But while the driver was counting the change, his eyes were fixed on the road as well as scanning for possible customers, whom he would honk at. All this in heavy traffic! That was totally multitasking, but to whose benefit? I, for one, was scared stiff! I kept praying, “Let me die another day, please.” But like I said, this is very common for the people here -- they didn’t even notice how scary such a situation was.

I was also shocked to see there were no bells in the minibus to ring to indicate that one would want to get off the bus. Instead, passengers just said, “musait bir yere,” (at the first free way).
When my sister, Yana, came to visit three years ago, I managed to observe her, to see whether I was the only one afraid of the roads and streets and Turkish driving. After her first minibus ride, she told me that her heart was about to drop to the floor, that she had the worst and scariest ride of her life and that she was not looking forward to another bus ride. That was only wishful thinking, of course, because for the next two months of her stay here, we had to take countless minibus rides as my husband Halil was in the military service.

This is the Turkish way of life on the road. Despite my heart rate rising every time such things happen, I think Turks are to be saluted because they are able to adapt to this scary and disastrous way of driving excellently. It’s excellent, but definitely scary. I think if you can drive on İstanbul’s streets, you definitely can drive anywhere in Malaysia.

And here I am; still in İstanbul after almost eight years. Am I still scared of being in both the public and private transportation here? You bet I am! No one can argue that life in İstanbul is indeed interesting -- if you have one adventurous soul. Will I ever be in the driver’s seat? No way!

06.11.2007
SIMAH ZAIM