This post will be split in to two sections.
The next morning, we enjoyed another lovely rooftop breakfast in the city of Konya. The breakfast spread was enormous and we left with delightfully full bellies.
Konya is one of the largest cities in Turkey and from above we could see a good portion of its expanse. The geography was relatively flat, so one could see over the rolling flats of red rooftops for miles, or kilometers as we would say here. During breakfast, I watched a man climb out from his roof through a black hatch to sit on the red terracotta tiles where he had a cigarette. It was a contemplative experience to sit in that luxurious room and feast while looking out over a city where there were likely countless refugees. Most of the refugees that we saw were in Istanbul, but their faces and trials stayed and traveled with us. The sorrow and desperation in their eyes were burned into ours. I wonder what that man on the roof who could look in at us and our feast saw.
From breakfast we jumped in the van and headed to our first sight. For all of you literature buffs, hold on to your seat, we visited the tomb of Rumi.
For those of you who are not familiar with Rumi, he was and remains to be one of the most influential people religiously, culturally and spiritually in Islam and the world at large.
Many of you have heard references to his influence and probably not even realized the origin, my self formerly included. Obscure reference alert! In Rodger's and Hammerstein's The Sound of Music when the nuns are debating if Maria is an asset to the abbey, one of the lines is, "she could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl." And if you were an inquisitive hearing this line clearly for the first time, you might have turned to your local adult, mine was my grandma and asked, 'what's a whirling dervish?'' My curiosity was not satisfied until many years later in preparation for this trip.
Dervish are the mystic followers of Rumi, sort of like Catholic monks. In the days of Rumi, the prospective Dervish would undergo intense, demanding training to qualify to be acepeted in this mystical order. Once the men (and women) prove their worth, they shed their normal dressings and dawn the outfit that defines their order. The tall hat represents the tomb of their vanity, their material desires are dead. The white of their robe also marks the ceremonial dressing robes in which people are buried, meaning their past life full of sorrow and distractions. The dervish are spiritual leaders and living preservations of yester-years.
When walking through the grounds where Rumi spent much of his time, one gets the sense of reverence and love for one's blessings and for the world at large.
We visited a felt maker who was also a Dervish, and the felt that was being made in his shop was not the average type of felt we can get in the States. The felt making tradition in Konya goes back probably more than a thousand years. Dervish are referred to as soofi because they are the wearers of the soof, the felt of lambs, wool. We sat in a room and sipped tea with this man and he explained to us the many different beautiful lessons and meanings of wool. It kept and keeps the shepherds and people warm in winter and cool in summer. It is a life and spiritual support.
We learned and saw how the many different pieces of art were collected, dyed, and formed into a variety of shapes. The felt is dipped in a combination of water and olive oil then rolled or pressed onto a flat surface in the desired shape. The wool is then set out flat and pressed. Once it is finished drying, the whole pattern and material will have shrunk, but it will be ready to present.
Looking through all of the brilliant pieces was wonderful and we all left with goodies and warm memories, but once more it was time to return to the van.
The road to Nigde awaited. Nigde, pronounced "needah" was quite a drive away. I was able to work on my blog and to appreciate the many shepherds and sheep that we passed along the way. We talked about how humble and hard a shepherd's life is. Unlike in the States, the shepherds in Turkey essentially only have 3 tools to assist their herding: a staff, a dog and maybe a donkey. No one knows the earth like the well beaten feet of a shepherd.
The Love of Nigde
The ride was long and our bellies were rumbling. The city of Nigde, tucked in the valley beside a ridge of mountains was large and complex in terms of its layout. In other words, we got lost.
Every twist and turn you could imagine we made trying to find the school where we were to have a meeting and dinner. After about 30 minutes of delay, we pulled up to the gate, our van entered the premises and we entered what felt like an overwhelmingly positive dream. Immediately outside of our van over 50 people, men, women, and children stood in wait for us with beautiful smiles on their faces. As we stepped out of the car, "welcome!" was sent to us by Carlos, our point of contact, and one after the other we met the many people. It was the first of countless surprises.
A man dressed in the region's traditional clothes approached us with an enormous vase that he wore around his body, complete with a compartment for storing cups. He leaned forward, pushing the mouth of the vase towards the cup, and offered us sweet and refreshing lemonade.
In a long procession, we followed Carlos into the beautiful school, up a set of white marble stairs to a large office. Comfortable chairs were set up around the room and the majority of the people from the greeting committee accompanied us inside.
Behind a desk that demanded respect was a man who clearly was the elder. Behind him was an intimidatingly large photo of him, but his expression before us and in the frame was soft, welcoming and full of hope.
Carlos translated for us the lovely introduction that this man, Mr. Afsar (pronounced Af-shar) had to share. He welcomed us to Nigde and gave a brief introduction to his background and the school. He told us that he made his fortune selling furniture and then began to reinvest in the people. He has funded several indiscriminate schools, one of which we were currently sitting, and has helped to open the eyes of countless to education and to global citizenry.
We went around the room doing introductions and it was wonderful to meet the people of Nigde who were our hosts for the evening. They were very impressed by our involvement in trying to make the world a better place in our daily and professional lives.
After our introductions were over, Mr. Afshar said through our translator, "We clearly have many wonderful similarities and were I better in English I'm sure we could talk for hours, but now, we are starving. Let's eat!"
With smiles and laughter we headed up another flight of stairs with Snow White and the seven dwarves painted as companions to us on the walls of the stairs. The steps lead to the entry way of a large banquet hall. Awaiting us was a fleet of internationally dressed children, standing little higher than my waist.
"Velcome to our city!" They warmly greeted us with great excitement and smiles impossible to contain. While shaking our hands the little ones handed us roses as we entered the gold lined hall.
We were led to big chairs at the back of the hall where we sat, each one of us feeling like humble paupers being honored as kings and queens.
Everyone took their seats and as we waited for the next surprise, I watched how the people gave such deep reverence and respect to Mr Afsar and his wife. They would bow their heads, kiss the back of their hand and then touch their knuckles to their brows. There were many times throughout our visit to Nigde that I would reflect on my family in Texas and how they honor and love our elder, my great grandma.
While we waited, we all got to hold the most darling baby I've yet seen. This baby did not cry or fuss at all. I started referring her to as the community baby because everyone held her at some point in the evening.
Carlos chimed in on the microphone and told us that there were to be many more surprises to come and the first was a competition of dancers. The children were going to perform the cultural dance that corresponded with the clothing they wore. We saw dances from Turkey, Tajikistan, China, Ottoman, Latin America, and Texas. A child who was sitting at a drawing tablet and he was to be the judge of all the dancers. So at the end, Carlos asked the boy who was the best dance group. He had been "painting" the winners' image on his THING and he took it up from the tablet to present it to us. As he approached with the covered painting, Carlos said, "And the winner is.."
The boy removed the cover and we saw a beautiful painting of the Turkish and the American flags holding hands. We all clapped and touched our hearts from this sweet and moving experience.
The children then did a special exhibition dance with all of them on the floor and then came the next surprise.
They rushed up to every one of us and pulled us up to the dance floor.
A little girl dressed as a swirling dervish danced with me and showed me how to do the Turkish dance that went with the song that was playing. All of my companions with the international collection fo children danced together. At the end of the song we all came together in a circle holding hands and went down to one knee. It was incredible!
But it wasn't over yet! We then had yet another song, another traditional Turkish style. Older children who had not been involved in the dances yet, came up to us, pulled us by our wrists back on to the dance floor and showed us how it was done. We all laughed as we danced. Their energy fed ours and our laughter fed their energy
Once the second song was done, Carlos had us sit back down again as we were in for yet another surprise.
A young lady came up to the floor and began to speak to us on the microphone. She was telling us about the tradition of Henna in Turkey and how it was used to decorate the skin of a bride before her wedding. She told us about how the bride would be dressed in red and that her friends and the groom's friends would form archs with their hands linked together and make a long path of archs for the bride and groom to go under together. We were beginnning to wonder where this was going and then the speaker said, "So let us have the bride."
We all looked to Rosemary because she and her husband Walt were the only potential pairing for what we could only guess was coming.
"I guess that's me!" Rosemary said as she stood up and with the chorus of our cheers went with the speaker into another room to prepare for her wedding.
We all stood and were handed these beautiful roses that lit up. The lights dimmed and then the bride, dressed in robes and scarves of red with Walt, her husband at her side. Joining hands, the pair ran together under the outstretched arms of their old and new friends. All the men, women, and children of the event participated in the bridal train and we all followed Rosemary and Walt under the arcs.
We danced and then we were brought together once more to have in our hands the henna. As the young girls drew the henna in our palms Carlos told us that we were being bound together as brothers and sisters with the people of Nigde and once we had to bid each other goodbye we would wave with our stamped hands to remind each other of our brother and sisterhood.
The evening carried on and we had a beautiful dinner with our new families. After we broke bread togeher we were shown an incredible art that used drops of paint in a combination of water and animal fat. Using a series of tools Fatimah showed us her incredible art of laying a piece of paper on the surface of the water, peeling off the incredible image that she had created. We clapped and cheered at her incredible art and at the soothing, peaceful music of the reed pipe player who joked with us about how difficult it was for her to learn how to use the pipe. One of the gentlemen standing with us said that he took five minutes to learn how to do the painting art, but in twenty years he had yet to make a sound out of the pipe.
After we saw the demonstration we were presented with paintings of our own! Each one of us received paintings done by Fatimah with beautiful frames.
The warmth and the love that we received from the people of Nigde will stay with our hearts for as long as we walk this earth. We will share with anyone who will listen (and sometimes to people who do not) how loving the people of Nigde were to us.
From our hearts to yours dear people of Nigde, please know our love and appreciation for every one of you.
Until later my dear readers,
Your humble author,
S. Faxon
No comments:
Post a Comment