So We can be Safe

http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/detaylar.do?load=detay&link=135359

All male Turks living in Turkey or abroad are required to serve in the Turkish military after a certain age.

The duration of their service depends on the person’s qualifications -- as does their rank. One may serve in the military as an “er” if he holds only a high school diploma, while one may serve as an “asteğmen” if he has a university degree.

I see there is a kind of pride among the people in sending their sons to the military service. It is as if there is an unspoken pride, particularly among the fathers of these sons, that “my son is a man now -- he is learning to be a man.” In villages, families usually have big parties, complete with eating, singing and dancing, as a big send-off. They are proud to send off their sons to serve in the military service; the occasion is a festive one.

In big cities like İstanbul, these parties are no less festive. The families will usually host at least a family gathering, if not more. Even though the family gatherings are more likely to be held inside the apartment rather than in the garden due to space limitations and the living situation, a man going to the military service is celebrated one way or another.

I remember one time when our apartment caretaker’s son was due for his military service. He had the family gathering the apartment building’s parking lot. The music and the chatting were rather loud and the peace was disturbed, but because we all knew that he was sending his son away, the neighborhood endured it. It was no use spoiling the family’s fun, as such a thing does not happen all the time.

As an expat newly adjusting to the Turkish culture at the time, I remember how I used to get irritated at people who honked their cars nonstop as they passed by while sending a family member to the military service. I mean, come on! Mini-buses honk, normal cars honk. To me, when you are being honked at, it means you have done something wrong on the road. But in Turkey, everything outfitted with a horn honks! That is one of the things in Turkey that used to drive me really mad. It was when my husband nudged me and said, “Your time will come, too. Don’t be judgmental,” that I realized people simply find ways to express their feelings. Honking is their way of saying: “Please make way, one of my family members is leaving for his military service. Have some respect for the feelings I have inside. I am proud of him.” Thus, they honk their cars. Of course the fact that they are disturbing the peace is another matter altogether! But that is a feature of Turkey that, if you plan to live here, you just have to get used to.

Another way of sending sons off to the military is by dancing in the streets. I remember on one occasion where upon sending his son to the military service, our apartment’s caretaker’s family danced in the street in front of their apartment. A neighbor called the police to stop the noise. Though such a thing may be common in villages, life in İstanbul, however, does not permit such noise. Though I was glad that the noise stopped, I was also sad that this family’s sending their son off to the military ended with a chat with the police. The point is, Turks will make as much noise as possible (in as many different ways as possible) on occasions such as this one. That’s how Turks are. And if you are around, well, just turn the volume of your television up and try to be understanding.

But really, how many want their son to be away on military duty if it is not mandatory? Ask any mother, any father, any wife, any siblings, any child, any friend. You basically lose your son for the duration of his service. He will be away from the comfort he is used to at home. As a loved one, you worry for his safety. A mother or a wife cannot stop but wonder: Is he eating enough? Is he resting well? Are they working him too hard? Is he happy?

I had a little taste of this when my Turkish husband was in the army a few years ago. He joined the mandatory army service for a year after completing his doctorate. He was sent for his intensive training as an asteğmen for two-and-a-half months in İzmir. Our kids were 3 and 4 years old then. I still remember how the kids used to miss their dad, how worried I was while he was away. And imagine, my husband was safe and sound at the training center. He had every privilege possible. He was treated nicely. We even used to chat over the Internet once a week from his training center! But even with that, I found it hard living without him. I was lucky that during the intensive training he did well and was able to choose where he wanted to complete the rest of his military service. My husband was able to live with us and go to the military base just as regular workers go to work. I was lucky, but not everyone is lucky. Some were sent to the borders, where the possibility of getting killed is high.

I can’t imagine the feelings of families whose members are serving in the army now, be it as a profession or as part of their mandatory military service. It can’t be easy, especially when your loved ones are stationed in war zones where the likelihood of their being killed is very high.
Five Turkish soldiers lost their lives on the first day of a ground offensive into northern Iraq against the outlawed Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK). The death rate will not stop there. This is war. More lives will be lost.

As all eyes turned to the media and waited for the latest war updates as thousands prayed for the safety of the “Mehmetcik,” a term fondly used to refer to the Turkish soldier; I think all hearts in Turkey were united for those at war to return alive. It is in times like these that one realizes it does not matter who is fighting in the war -- even if you do not know them personally, they are there to defend this homeland so that Turks and expats alike can live in safety. Their loss is everyone’s loss. And so we pray for their safety.


03.03.2008
SİMAH ZAİM İSTANBUL