Last night, I dreamed I was on the Istiklal again. Istiklal, short for Istiklal Caddesi (Iz-tee-klal je-de-suh), is the main street of Istanbul’s Beyoglu district in the European side of the city.
In my dream I was walking with thousands of other pedestrians on this vehicle-free runway, walking with the men with their pushcarts carrying produce to nearby neighborhoods and vendors selling roasted chestnuts, borek and bagels on the streets.
Musicians played and young girls were looking for shoes at Nine West. Great bookstores still line the Iztiklal, and if you go further west, there begins a neighborhood where nothing but musical instruments are sold. The air was filled with smoke and fresh breeze from the Bosphorus. Families, students, people on their way to and from work: the street was bustling, determined and peaceful.
I embraced Istanbul, a 2,700 year old city whose culture and contributions are deeply imbedded in the history of European and Asian civilizations. It’s a crossroads city, with a variety of people, tastes, ideas, love of knowledge and traditions that with time and tolerance has mellowed into an empire that has faded but never died. But of all the foods, customs, ideas and concepts that were native to Istanbul and all of Turkey there was one idea, one concept that seemed to wind its way around the city, layer itself deep into its heart and ultimately touch mine. The concept was imece.
Imece (im-eh-cheh) is the name of the Turkish tradition of community collaboration on an individual’s work or need for help. It is the spirit of imece guiding villagers to participate in the overall organization of a local marriage ceremony, including party planning, the reception hall, the wedding feast, and the building of the new house for the newlyweds.
In big cities imece is practiced as a guiding principle, with people helping each other for free. Most anywhere else, especially in the US, this would be unthinkable without proper pay. But imece is a kind of volunteerism where reciprocity is expected. This is the core belief of a community’s civility.
With Turkey’s rugged terrain in its cities and rural areas, practicing this custom from this core belief is a necessity. Just walking the hills of the city’s narrow streets is difficult enough for young and old without assistance. Navigating through a complex city with 15 million people of various cultures, languages and religions needs a certain level of finesse. Therefore, you cannot even imagine road rage, horns blaring or traffic police. Cooperation is necessary for survival. Our pushy American need for speed and aggression to reach what we want at all costs has absolutely no place here.
Even though it has been the capital of four empires over 26 centuries, Istanbul is still an ancient city that hasn’t really changed its topographical contours or its customs. The men pushing their carts of produce uphill are bringing fruits and vegetables to various neighborhoods, stopping at a strategic corner for a few hours to sell fresh produce to the older neighborhood women who can no longer take that hard trek up 40-degree grades to get to the pazari (markets) for food. Same goes for bread and pastry carts, with street sellers calling out “ekmek” (bread) “bourek” (cheese pastry) and “ciokolat” (croissants) to go with your cay (chai – tea) for a mere two Turkish lira.
When a vehicle stalls on the busy narrow streets causing a traffic jam for several hours, men are immediately compelled to help the driver move his stuck car and get him help so that everything can continue. Your cabbie will get you from Point A to Point B, and when caught in traffic, you can feel as well as hear his audible deep breath in, deep breath out. They’ve been there before, patiently understanding the plight of the poor guy whose vehicle is stuck up ahead. It may be his turn next, and your patience behind the wheel helps the city at that moment. Imece.
When you come to love a new place, leaving it is followed by a form of grief. So imagine my return home to find the Presidential debates on the television, re-encountering the thought that we’re still trying to decide what role government will have — the central issue of the 2012 election.
Is government going to help its citizens or will we abandon our citizens to the whims of the private sector? Are we turning over the last vestiges of what was a democracy into a two-party, two-class system where the bulk of the nation’s wealth is concentrated under the hands of the very few? Are we going have a health care system, imperfect as it is? Or will we let private health care insurers decide what it is we do get as health coverage — if we get it at all — and at what cost? Do we democratize America or commodify it?
I not only came back home from a foreign land whose customs I loved and appreciated, I came back to a place that now makes me want to hold on to principles so foreign to us: social capital — community, reciprocity, assistance — imece. In Turkey, I felt a deep embarrassment over our sense of social and economic entitlement, the pushiness to get ahead no matter the cost. The contempt we have for the people and places we step on and run over. The need for so much to fill an emptiness so deep that it’s an abyss we keep trying to fill with more stuff — at a price higher than we can imagine.
Coming from an ancient and oriental empire that’s learned its lessons of tolerance, patience, and respect for knowledge and diversity and then watching our political discourse in decline makes my heart ache. Are we fighting for the soul of our country, or are we deciding whether or not to continue having a soul? It’s in that decision that the destiny of our once and maybe future empire rests.
Beautifully written, as always, Fe and I, like you, still find it stunning that America can’t seem to shake off the extreme consumerism that threatens its soul and leads its politics. The description of what you found on your adventure makes our shallowness seem even more pathetic. But I do agree with Brendan, the universal concepts of commonality and sharing are still in us, waiting to be coaxed out. A real spiritual dilemma.
A brilliant piece as always, Fe – entertaining, educational and right on. Travelling gypsy chef catering for artistic communities in far-flung corners of the globe? I smell a delicious television series – it’s very BBC-2.
Fe: Thank you, yes, i’m here. The answer is yes. There are things that go with the territory of transcending territory. It’s an evolutionary leap. But, still, the idea is something to affirm.
Fe –
You span so many cultures so easily, why not? The older I get the more of a foody I seem to be, which is a far cry from the kid who wouldn’t eat his zucchini…
“…and food is shared with the ‘travelers:’ it could be you in different circumstances.”
Brendan: (and Len, if you’re around)
I wonder aloud if that isn’t my newest calling — international gypsy chef, catering to artists and arts communities.
A wonderful piece Fe. I also have felt grief leaving a country, once oh-so-foreign, and now familiar and beloved. That would be Morocco– Marrakech, Fez, Essouira. These ancient tribal cultures, now transitioning into our modern world, still reflect a very different kind of relationship to the whole. Tribal– we all survive together. I loved what I found there; my returns to the US were always heart-wrenching. Yes, as Paola said, there are difficulties– women’s issues and others. But still, the “imece” remains, a contrasting image of what is possible for us in the West, with our mythical cult of the individual.
Fe,
thank you, and I totally agree with you.
And I connect also to Len’s article at this point: thank you from one who was born at the door between East and West, and does not know at this point where in the world is her home, and suspects her home can only be where her heart is, but what about roots – a little confusion there. 🙂
Paola:
Understood. I know there are wide swaths of Turkish history that were not discussed in this piece, its current secularism and the modernization of the roles of women is but one — and one that is still undergoing some pressure by more tradition bound forces. The history of genocide and mass deportation is another, and that is just the 20th century.
While I was there, there were attacks along the Turkish-Syrian border which the Erdogan government was keeping under tight media blackout — though I was able to see it being reported on Azerbijani news through satellite TV.
This piece is about the organizing principle of imece, which by butterfly dancer’s comment is practiced in other parts of the world. That makes me think about the regions and topography where these concepts are born, and the ancient roots of its origins.
You are right that that concept may not have involved the empire, which we know always comes at a heavy price. As I wrote this piece, I recalled my feelings and sense about the place and the practice of imece was about the nature of the people, which to my recent experience was positive and life-affirming. I wondered if maybe that is what is eternal about the place and the people, which is what caused me to write the sentence that we are discussing right now.
I know that ‘the neighbor’s grass always seem greener’ (Italian expression) but, Fe, I would be *very* careful in saying “… an ancient and oriental empire that’s learned its lessons of tolerance, patience, and respect for knowledge and diversity”. Maybe, or certainly, people have. But at a political level, are you sure? What about minorities?
I am quite connected to Turkey for family and history reasons, even though I am not Turkish. I know that people, and especially women, live well there now. But – I’d be more careful.
Fe,
This is a way of life which ancient, traditional societies know well – and so did the people of a young United States, forced to help each other survive in the wilderness through the western expansion or die. We’ve forgotten, to our great misfortune.
I’m a student of the ancient indigenous culture of Peru, and in their culture imece is called ayni, or reciprocity – “today for me, tomorrow for you”. I got to see this principle in action during my pilgrimage to Cuzco two summers ago, especially during a five-day camp in the high Andes. There, too, you help each other, it is a natural expectation. One alone, one selfish, cannot survive, and I mean that literally.
Thank you for explaining this concept so well. It does, indeed, touch your heart when you meet it, and you can’t help but be changed forever.
“When you come to love a new place, leaving it is followed by a form of grief”. I know that heartache well, dear Fe. Such a beautiful and moving piece. Thank you.
Fe – welcome back, in all ways!
A neat concept, imece. I think that exists here as well, but we’ve subsumed it in modern culture nor do we have a name for it. Out here in the sticks helping your neighbor is very common, so is looking out for the general welfare of all. It’s why there are water barrels in the middle of nowhere, and food is shared with the ‘travelers:’ it could be you in different circumstances.
Food for thought, indeed. Thank you.
Len:
You asked me what I took away from Istanbul and I thought it was making a choice over cooking or writing or both. It was both, but that wasn’t the choice nor was it the decision.
The choice was to commit to cooperation, civility and reciprocity. That is what has clung to my heart from so many thousands of miles away. My heart and spirit made the choice. This is what I am supposed to bring into this world by word and action.
Good gosh, Fe, how beautiful. Thank you for sharing your journey, the concept of imece that you seem to have integrated as your own, and the perspective you have gained. You, your actions, experiences and words are proof that we can do better, be better and know better.
Good gosh, Fe, how beautiful.