Moms and Disco Lights

Dear Mom,

Every year when Mother's Day rolls around I can't help but remember that one dreadful year when all four of your loving but scatter-brained children were a bit tardy in remembering the day. The repercussions of that day haunt me still, and probably made 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' my most easily remembered quote. (Incidentally, I did some checking on that one and found, to my surprise, that it does not come to us from Shakespeare, but rather from William Congreve's 1697 play 'The Mourning Bride.') Anyway, back to the topic at hand: I think you were absolutely justified in your indignation; I guess after years of back-breaking, hair-whitening child raising, I'd want a little recognition, too.

Let me tell you about Mother's Day in Turkey. In general, Turkish society is not 'festive'. Perhaps you noticed this when you lived in Istanbul: there is a pervasive, almost tangible melancholy here, even amongst people who seem happy. Does this have to do with Turkey's being an Islamic society? With bearing the burden of a troubled history? Is it a reflection of socio-economic conditions? Or is it the belief in kader (fate) and the idea that everyone's destiny is pre-determined? I couldn't say. Maybe Turks are just melancholy people. When it comes to festivals, a side-by-side comparison of Turkey, Germany and the USA will place Turkey far behind the latter two in terms of sheer numbers of celebrations. Turks are good at enjoying life in a quiet, low-key way, but they're just not the festival types. In the eight months that I've lived here, I don't think that I have once stumbled across any kind of outdoor food/drink/music/exhibit type of event. Even at the şeker bayram, one of the most important holidays of the year, where children eat scads of sweets and are coddled mercilessly by their elders, there is no outward display of the holiday. If you hadn't been told that it was happening, you might not have noticed. Şeker bayram is the closest thing Muslims have got to Christmas, but it certainly is not like Christmas, where there are decorations in every shop and caroling in streets and umpteen zillion pre-Christmas events going on. Basically, life goes on here, unpunctuated by spontaneous outbursts of public joy, real or simulated.

But these last few weeks something has been different. There is suddenly a hint of optimism in the air, a lifting of the heavy sense of resignation to Fate. The weather's turned hot, the night air balmy, and people are thronging the restaurants and cafes of the neighborhood late into the night. So you could just chalk it up to the weather. Then again, perhaps it's something else. ..like, say, Mother's Day anticipation? Is it possible? This past month billboards have been cropping up all over the city in a month-long buildup to M-Day. On bus shelters, on advertising walls, on buses themselves there are these enormous (to me rather maudlin, I must confess) posters bearing the words "ANNEM BENIM" (my mother) in gigantic letters, and ecstatic pictures of people of various ages with their arms flung around their hallowed, sainted mothers. Large numbers of TV advertisements have adopted a 'mom' theme.

I think it's fair to say that on the list of things sacred to all Turks, mothers take the top spot. They are revered here, and it would be unthinkable to disrespect, argue with or, God forbid, forget them. They are viewed the source of life, power, goodness, honor and all that is holy. And as one who comes from a place where nothing is particularly sacred, and children feel free to argue with and disrespect their parents, this touches me.

Anyway, after being bombarded from every direction with images of loving mothers and misty-eyed filial devotion, I start getting the idea that M-Day might actually be the biggest holiday of the year. But it was the tents that greeted me on the way to work last week that confirmed my suspicions. Set up in a square so as to form a small courtyard, the tents were selling various knickknacks, chocolates, etc. The entrance to the 'courtyard' was festooned with white banners bearing enormous red letters shouting out HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!! Later in the evening, performers hit the stage; there were even disco lights and dancing -- more 'festival' than I've seen in the eight months of my Turkish life.

Wow, I thought. So this is what it takes to get the Turkish people to whoop it up and party -- a celebration of mothers! Too bad that mine's not here for this! Still, I thought you might be pleased to hear that there are places where the love and devotion of mothers is not underestimated -- indeed, it is the pretext for the biggest public shindig of the year. I'll be thinking of you, in the reflected glow of the disco lights, and remembering all the love you've given and everything you've done for us.

much love,
Kate