Since I do not have a lover, it was an ordinary day for me. This did not make me feel bad or anything so I have a hard time understanding why people fear spending this day alone.

Maybe I am too comfortable in my solitude, who knows?

Although I had not planned anything in particular, I received a Skype conference call from a friend inGreece. He was sitting with Uncle Theodore, whom I’m very fond of and I love listening to. Hence I ended up chatting with him through the evening listening to his analysis on Greek Mythology, talking about his book that is about to come out, on the misunderstandings of Socrates. I can hardly express how delightful it was for me to listen to his in depth knowledge on subjects that I love so much, such as Greek Mythology and Philosophy.

This was no longer an ordinary evening but an evening that had been filled with tremendous joy. It is difficult to explain to those who do not share such joys, the satisfaction that one can get out of a good book or a good discussion on a shared area of interest.

After our conversation I found myself browsing through my library looking for a book on Greek mythology. I found it and right next to it, I found another book. The 1912 edition of a collection of “Napoleon’s Love Letters.” It is a collection of his letters to Josephine.

As I started browsing through the pages I felt touched by how romantic he was. A man, who was later going to challenge the world with the intention of conquering it, was surprisingly capable of expressing such weakness against the absence of a letter from his loved one. 

On April 24 1796 he wrote the below lines in his letter.

“I have received your letters of 16 and 21. You have gone several days without writing to me. What are you doing? My dear, dear lover I’m not possessive, but sometimes agitated. Come quick! I’ll tell you in advance: If you hesitate, you will find me ill. The hardships and your absence, that’s too much at once. Your letters are the happiness of my days, and our happy days are not frequent.”

He was so comfortable expressing the pain she could inflict on him by not returning his feelings.

In his letter on April, 3, 1796 he had written the below sentences.

“People have no power over him who goes in vain to death. But to die without being loved by you, to die without having this certainty, this is equal to hell, which is total destruction! The thought steals my breath away. “

I am touched on how openly he articulated his feelings for her. In today’s society the majority of people seem to be contaminated with a disease called “fear of rejection” An uncaring attitude carried out by both women and men is almost considered a virtue. Personally I have never been a follower of this trend. It is rare that I am feeling sentimental towards someone so when it happens I cherish the feeling.

This also kind of explains why people have a longing to just be with someone on Valentines Day. It is almost more important to be with someone than being with someone special. As a result, I observe many people questioning whether what they feel is love or not?

My philosophy is simple, if one has doubt about their feelings there is a high chance, the relation is more than sentimental but maybe to fulfill society’s expectations.

I mean come on, when there are real feelings involved, it leaves no doubt!

One cannot stop thinking of that special someone or the thought puts a silly smile on one’s face. These signs are not only universal but very hard to miss or mistake for something else. Consequently, I am often surprised to see people analyzing themselves on these issues.

Napoleon further explains in his letters how he falls asleep imagining he had her in his arms.

Yes, that is the type of thing people in love tend to do, when they are apart from their loved ones. 

See, genuine love does not seek convenience. This must be why epic love tales are based on moving mountains for the loved ones. Yet in today’s relation stories, convenience is a big issue. Sometimes I want to tell people, “You are not buying a couch or some kitchen appliance, you are talking about how to function with another person, who is supposed to be very dear to your heart.”

I’m not suggesting that relations are easy, of course when feelings are intense so can reactions be. However at the end of the day, the special person is also the one who can make us smile just for existing, or their image in our mind can help us sleep peacefully just like Napoleon did in circumstances of war, by thinking of Josephine and that adds immeasurable value to the relation.

I’ve often been surprised with people who jump from one relation to the other. A loved one shall not be easily replaceable. I am not suggesting that one should hang on to a past love’s memory but ‘butterflies in the stomach’ may not come across us for a while after a relation is over. That is not so bad because when they dance in our stomach again, we take notice of the person who awoke that familiar sensation, and we just know how to identify what we feel towards them with absolutely no doubt.

Sources:

*Libesbriefe Napoleons

Zusammengestellt und herausgegeben von Gertrude Kircheisen

P.10, 17

“Deine Briefe vom 16. und 21. habe ich erhalten. Du hast mehrere Tage hingehen lassen, ohne mir zu schreiben. Was tust Du denn? Meine liebe, liebe Freundin, ich bin nicht eifersüchtig, nur zuweilen unruhig. Komme geschwind! Ich sage es Dir im Voraus:  Wenn Du zögerst, wirst Du mich krank finden. Die Strapazen und Deine Abwesenheit, das ist zu viel auf einmal. Deine Briefe sind das Glück meiner Tage, und unsere glücklichen Tage sind nicht haeufig.”

 “Die Menschen vermögen nichts über den, der fruchtlos in den Tod geht. Nun aber, zu sterben ohne von Dir geliebt zu sein, zu sterben ohne diese Gewissheit zu haben, das ist Höllenequal, das ist gaenzliche Vernichtung! Der Gedanke daran raubt mir den Atem.”

Then a few months ago something changed. I found myself enjoying our little chats, even calling him. I guess I should find solace that I had forgiven him before he passed, yet the pain keeps taking me over. Most of my memories with him go way back to my childhood. I was finally ready to make new memories, but he is gone now.

I find myself trying to justify the pain I feel or the fact that I loved him. I find myself telling people that I am making snow days when I am actually grieving and cannot get myself to do much. I tried to go swimming a few days ago because it usually makes me feel better.  As I was in the water I found myself reminiscing that he was the one who taught me how to swim when I was only two years old. I swim a few days a week and this thought never occurred to me. Since he passed memories seem to flow.

He did not like me to swim in wavy sea waters, but one day when I was around eleven years old, I almost got drowned. The current had pulled me in and I was out of sight. He was a great swimmer, so he jumped into the water with his clothes on, to get me out. He could not find me because the waves and current kept me in. As a large wave kind of spat me out, I found myself on the shore. He was furious that I went into the water when the waves were man high and he had told me not to, but that day he explained to me theoretically how to swim in such waters, just in case it happened again, to ensure that I could survive.

“Never go against the waves, rise with them, fold with them and you will be able to go forward. Obey nature and the sea will give you way.”  were his words.

He liked nature, discussions on history and theology and so do I.

He was good looking, charming, humble, and very polite; yet spoke his mind openly without sugar coating what he has to say, while managing not to offend anybody. I never heard him yell at anyone.

As a little girl I thought that he was my ally. I knew he would buy me the facial paint set that mom refused to buy (knowing that I would make a mess), which he did. Mom was the disciplinary, he was the fun daddy. If I really misbehaved, he would just say,

“I will tell your mom.”

I would object saying “No come on, you cannot do that!” In my mind we had a code of honor, we were good friends.

He had taught me how to play poker when I was six or seven. I have no idea how to play now, I completely forgot, but at the time he let me win each and every time. Of course as a little girl, I was so sure that I was beating him and that I was a terrific card player.

One day as we were walking down the street, he told me that I could go to him whenever I had a problem, no matter what my problem was. I was probably seven years old and had just started school when this conversation occurred.

I said “OK” after a small moment of silence, I asked

“Daddy what’s a problem?”

He laughed and told me that as I grew up, I may come across situations when I do not know what to do and that I would never need to hide them from him. I should just go to him and he would help me.

As a child I desired to have a problem to share with him, it seemed like a privileged situation, where I would be sharing a secret with him.

Sadly later in life, he was the last person that I ever felt that I could go to when I encountered a troubled situation. However, recently I had realized that whenever we spoke, his calm voice was calming me too.

When I received the call last week that informed me that he had passed in the morning I found myself bursting into tears hysterically. I did not know what to do with myself, nor called anyone. My mother has a way of feeling me; she popped by unannounced and found me in tears. She tried to ease my pain. It has only been a week, so the sudden crying crises kick in at the least expected moments, but I know that time is the only thing that can help relieve the pain. I have to wait it out.

Meanwhile I have puppies who naturally have no idea of what goes on in my life, who cry when hungry, distract me by being naughty and kiss me relentlessly which in fact helps. My grown doggies make me go out and walk in the freezing weather because they need to relieve themselves, which is good because not much else could get me out the door for a leisurely walk these days. Since they enjoy the snow, they take their time too. They must feel my sorrow as they do not much leave my side, especially Shylo. He is always right by my side these days. Work continues as usual. Actually I had to attend work matters the day I got the news, as the next day. It made me wonder how people manage to grieve by putting things on hold. Silence seemed more painful the first two days. I know time will help me, ease my sorrows.

In movies death always causes people to see things with a new perspective. I realized that it is true. Putting things off when there are emotions involved is really not a good idea. We really do not know what’s next. So I find myself more expressive of my affection, even towards those who might not so much suspect it….

After the conversation was over I realized something about my family. Both from the Mother and the Father’s side they have been around long before the formation of modernTurkey. This gives me information about the era that cannot be learned from books.

The common conception is that with the formation of the Turkish Republic, women have been liberated. It is true that Atatürk changed the law, so that women could vote decades before French or Italian women. Then again life for women during the Ottoman era was never the way it has been in other Muslim countries.

My Mother’s grand mother for example was the daughter of another vast property owner. Her husband was very well educated, yet not as wealthy as herself. Education seemed more important as her family was already very well off and culture was very much valued within the family. She was a well read, elegant lady surrounded by servants, but also very sporty. She could ride her horse as well as most men, if not better. In the early nineteen hundreds, one day her husband went hunting with his crew and they got snowed in, in the mountains. The crew came back without her husband. They told her that the blizzard was too severe; they could not possibly reach the area where he was lost.

Her response was simple;

I am not leaving my husband to die in the blizzard!

She hopped on a horse, went into the blizzard, climbed the supposed impossible to reach area, found her husband in an unconscious state. She got him on her horse all by herself and brought him back to safety. She had saved his life while risking her own without hesitation and none of the men in the crew had her courage. Years later, she divorced the same husband because she did not want to be with him anymore. Not only was she strong but very independent too.

One of her daughters, who would be my Mother’s aunt became one of the first female bank directors, when Atatürk was putting Turkey through a series of revolutions.  As a bank director, there were male employees reporting to her. Considering the mother that had brought her up this was not a problem. In this period there were not many female managers, in the world yet. The men in my mother’s side of the family have been respecting women as their equal for more than 150 years, which is as far as it came up in family stories. Then there are things that one does not learn from stories but they simply run in the family. The importance of proper language skills is one of them. My Grand Parents from both sides have passed away, but my Mother’s uncle is still alive.  When he speaks, his Turkish is so refine, yet his abilities of precise expression are so naturally advanced that it almost sounds like poetry. He is equally fluent in German as he studied Economics in Germany. This was a period long before the gastarbeiter era, but a time when Turks and Germans still had an ongoing alliance left from Ottoman relations. Anyhow I was educated in the US and upon my return, I was using some English words while speaking Turkish. I recall precisely how my mother warned me that this was an ignorant person’s trait.

“An educated person should be able to express themselves very well in their native language and then they can also be very fluent in multiple more languages. “were her words. Needless to say that it did not take me too long to clear up my Turkish, to the extend that I’ve become a published writer in my native tongue.

Getting back to the subject of women’s liberation along with the formation of the republic; there are so many stories in my own family that the idea that women were completely disrespected during the Ottoman era and then suddenly completely liberated with the formation of modern Turkey is absurd. Atatürk has saved the nation by showing great leadership when the Empire was falling apart. He did put the nation through a series of revolutions, which were necessary to create a better life for the public in general. He was a great leader.

Lately however some blame him for anything that may have gone wrong, while others blame every thing that went wrong on his ‘absence’. The truth of the matter is that the nation went through many changes and some important bricks that create the foundation of any society were neglected.

How did that happen?

The Nouveau Riche

Naturally every revolution creates its own power figures. As the country was re-built after the war, new opportunities were formed. Those who were close to the new government became very rich, in maybe a decade of time. Some of these families are still very wealthy. As Modern Turkey is not even a hundred years old, the grandfathers of these people who did not come from a fortunate upbringing but seized the opportunities presented to them, go mostly two generations back. The Grandfathers who made the money, passed away within the last decade. Some of them never lost their country side accent. Their stories have given hope to the rest of the society.

Servants or small time merchants that made it to be the tycoons of the country!

The fact that they did not belong to a certain high class, could not stop them from achieving success. It all sounds promising, only the ways to all those riches were not all that innocent. Turkey had gone through a period were foreign goods were banned and a few families had monopolized the market. The close relations to the government had helped them all the way. The law was as good as, at their disposal. This happened after Atatürk had already passed away. The shift of money to a different class has somehow affected the rest of the culture as well. Nowadays it is almost impossible to come across anyone well off, whose ancestors were not peasants. Many who like to consider themselves as members of a certain elite, link their own past to the days that the republic was formed and almost denounce the periods prior to that.

I often hear words such as “The Ottomans were ignorant!”

My natural response is, “Who do you think the Ottomans are?”  They are our past. It took me a while to figure out the depth of the ongoing polarization in the nation. Lately it is almost like some Turks accept the Ottomans as their past and have a disliking against Atatürk and others dislike the Ottoman periods and accept the history of Modern Turkey as their past.

I must explain for my readers who are not familiar with Turkish history that the above expressed distinction is absolute nonsense and is not based on historical facts but more about a desire to be related to a certain period in the past more than another period.

Otherwise by historical means of definition, the Ottoman Empire was formed and lead by Turks, and when it fell apart after WWI, a tough war had to be fought to fend off foreign invasion, after which Modern Turkey was formed, with the leadership of Atatürk.

Atatürk Next to a Young Teacher

Anyhow the nouveau riche, have strictly identified themselves with the modern values of the new formed republic such as secularism. Their two generations old, vast amounts of money,  along with lack of class has made vulgarity more acceptable among the new elite. In the more traditional Turkish higher class upbringing, flashing off material possessions is considered distasteful. Treating the less fortunate with nothing but kindness is one of the unspoken obligations of members of a class that is accustomed to be served for many generations, thus the “nouveau riche wannabes” who are clueless of such details, make a point of being harsh with the waiter that attends their table. The wannabes are those who look up to the wealthy as role models and imitate their lack of manner, by doubling or tripling it. The unfortunate result is banal behavior to have some sort of acceptance within the culture.

Ironically within the last decade a new group of “nouveau riche” is being formed. The mildly Islamist party has been running the country for a decade and those who are close to them have become richer.  Now the two generation old rich families, who did not care to do anything for the country for decades, look down on the newly rich ones, and blame them for destroying the country. Fifteen years ago some of these key families had a lot of influence over many important areas such as the media, the military, even the changes in law.

Now they almost claim guardianship over Atatürk’s legacy of secularism, but what most fail to see is that Atatürk tried to plant the seeds of turning Turkey into a “People’s State”.

Many followers conveniently, missed that point as it would interfere with their “Monopolize the Market” agenda. Three decades ago the importation of many items were banned, punished by jail time and the whole nation could only buy products produced by certain family businesses that turned into empires in a short period of time.

Another point that was missed was guarding cultural values. Naturally the Nouveau Riche, some of which controlled the media, was not bothered by the erosion of the language. Their own parents did not speak “High Turkish” either, so why should it be important to create role models, who would ensure that such values would not be lost to new generations?

Demure is one of the important signs of the traditional Turkish elite class. Sadly it has become rare to come across and is certainly not imitated by the new generations.

The mildly Islamist newly rich families are under the illusion that before Atatürk everyone was extremely religious. My Mother’s father was an atheist. He may have lived his adult life during the modern Turkey era, but previous generations of his family were not very religious either. I keep referring back to my own family because these days, each end of the polarized nation seems to have a different idea on how things used to be.

The fact of the matter is that a certain class was modern also during Ottoman times. Atatürk made an effort to extend that modernity to the rest of nation, while making revolutions that would help the commoners receive better education and have better rights through the democratic voting system. After he passed away, those who claim to share his views have not done much to ensure that the country would become a functioning  people’s state. As explained above everyone seemed busy, while a few families were monopolizing the market. After decades of negligence and looking down on country men by the rulers, the mildly Islamist party appeared to show more concern about the public’s basic needs. In return the people have embraced them.

Some complain that the culture is being eroded due to the shift of power, but the culture had been eroding long before that and the previous nouveau riche have not set the best example.  They are vulgar and distasteful, so are the new ones. The only upside for the people is that the new power figures feel more obliged to embrace the people, which is ironically more in the steps of Atatürk’s legacy……..go figure!

These days I have something special yet temporary in my life. Since I know that it cannot last forever, I try to savior every moment. My doggie had given birth and now the puppies are about two months old. They are such a delight to be around, it is heavenly. I wish they could always remain so cute. Every moment I spend with them they bedazzle me with a different move. A few days ago I noticed that they were responding to the sound of food dropping into their bowl. As soon as they hear it they come running inside from the garden. All of them hop with a sense of urgency, it is cute.When  I am not around to pay attention, I do not like to let them stay outdoors. So when I have to leave the house, to get them to come inside I would pour some food in the bowl and they would all run in. Today they were full and the weather was too nice, so three of them did not come to the sound. I started talking loudly in the high pitch voice that I only talk to them saying “Baby, baby, baby my sweet baby” then I heard them hopping in rush, to come kiss me.

 Of course my heart melted right then and there!

I was so touched that they were showing the same kind of enthusiasm to the idea of coming in to kiss me that they normally show towards food. In a puppy’s life, food is basically all they care for, as they mainly eat, play and sleep. Not that grown doggies are much different but at least they understand when I say “NO” whereas the puppies seem under the impression that “NOOO!” means “Go right ahead!”

Anyhow to make a long story short, their presence and every behavior makes me very happy. I am used to getting covered in tiny little muddy paw prints all over me, as they like to climb onto me, the way they climb onto each other. When I squat, they kiss me, bite me, and pull my hair, all with tremendous enthusiasm.

I go through my days with major contrast in the way I look, as I like chic attires, which is normal but becoming so muddy everyday is new to me. When I come back to my life with fine clothes, business meetings and a polished look, I find myself eager to go back to my muddy little rascals.

Treating Art as a Simple Form of Currency

A short while ago I attended to an art event. This was neither the first nor the last art event that I would visit, but there was something significant about it that made me think of the experience later on. I was invited to a private lounge within the venue and the bank that owns the launch hired an art expert to walk us through the galleries.

I went to college inSan Francisco, so I imagined this occasion would be something like in mySan Franciscodays. People of the Bay Area are very open minded and seeing a new dimension of anything and looking for depth is verySan Francisco. The Hippie move started in Haight Ashbury (San Francisco) toured the world, ended in Berkeley (Bay Area). Therefore gatherings of all sorts were always interesting in this town.

Anyhow, my experience at this occasion was nothing like that; in fact I was surprised with the banking lady who approached me at the VIP launch. She told me that art is a good investment.

Ok it is!

But the way she built up to this sentence made me feel like, in her mind that’s all it is.

I kindly said “Is that so?”

She kept telling me the profits some people made.

As she was going on, I had a flash back vision in my mind the way it happens in movies.

A few years ago at the same event I fell in love with a painting. It was a couple kissing. Nothing original about it, but I could hardly break away from it. My mother bought it and that weekend on the Sunday art section of most papers’, it was featured as one of the most outstanding items. I had no idea when I fell in love with it, but mom was not the least bit surprised. I was drawn to it as it had moved me, simple as that!

For me, in spite of the regularity of it’s theme that was no ordinary kiss!

I had kissed that way, felt that way…it had spoken to my heart

Of course I did not tell this story to the banking lady.

She would probably look at me and think that I am a romantic fool, which I certainly am!

 I just sat there as she went on.

When the tour started, the expert’s lack of passion made me feel a little disappointed but I did not want to disrespect her, by simply walking away.

Then I heard someone whispering in my ear “Have you had enough? Shall I save you?” A friend of mine who owns a gallery was exhibiting at this event, and the person whispering in my air with the most amused facial expression was her father.

I said, “Yes please” 

There I had my excuse to walk away.

Later, my friend introduced me to the artist who was displaying his work through her gallery. The poor man shook my hand and told her, “Yes I noticed her. She actually looked at my paintings.”

So were others just chatting away without bothering to see what’s on display?

No Need for Words When the Heart Speaks

Then a few days later, when I was in my muddy paw print look, walking with my dogs who cannot stop hugging me, right after they jump in mud, the owner of a fish restaurant by the Boshphorus that I walk pass everyday approached me. He asked me if I could maybe help them move their dog Tommy, to the terrace. Tommy is literally bigger than me. He is only seven months old and when he is tied outside he likes to hug Delilah and me as well. (more paw prints) I love the little giant. His owner must have seen us interact. The Chef came as well and they started telling me how Tommy does not want to climb stairs and because of his strength, he cannot be pulled up or anything, he needs to be convinced.

It is not very common in my culture for men, to ask a small framed woman to help with a giant of a dog, so I was pleasantly surprised.

It got me thinking later, why would they think that Tommy would obey me, as opposed to them? Then I realized that they see me communicate with my doggies all the time.

Yes! I talk to my doggies with full sentences and I know they understand me very well. They may not be able to talk back with words but they sure express themselves. The trick is that I talk through my heart and doggies acknowledge that immediately.

It also made me realize that sometimes I am better at understanding what a dog says without words than what a person says with words. So the contrast is not only in my clothes but my worlds.

Why do people have to complicate everything?

The banking lady was standing in a venue surrounded by items created by other human beings who try to express themselves in other ways than saying things directly; possibly more bold, more striking ways, yet all she could focus on was that someone, not even herself, someone could make money off this.

The inability to enjoy beauty for what it is must be some kind of curse.

What I love most about all forms of art, is that very communication aspect that connects us all. A song can make millions of people tap into the same emotion. The one who composed it, not only connected millions under the same feeling, but also let’s them express their feelings through his/hers musical ability. Those who are better at putting their emotions into their work and letting it speak to others are considered better artists, because more are drawn to their work.

A lot of things are much simpler than they seem. People sometimes build a clutter that acts as a barrier of joy. Going through motions for the sake of appearances is one of the sneakiest bliss stealers but people do it all the time.

Whether it is time with puppies, an art event, a concert or a good dinner, we all try to relax and enjoy in our spare time, that only happens when we simplify it and appreciate the actual thing instead of getting lost in the sideshow, such as who we see there, who gets to see us, what is profitable…..

Delilah

Delilah is a typical Kangal she is very possessive, very protective, yet extremely sensitive and proud. She will not disobey, and literally cries if she does not get the attention she wants. Given that she is considered gigantic in size, it is very interesting to see her whine like a baby, when she does not get her way.

George

George is also overprotective he is a mixed breed of Kangal and Golden Retriever. He likes to act in charge and is a bit too loud. People used to beat him a lot when he was alone on the street. It is almost like he is intimidating people as payback. Then again he has the Golden gene which makes him cuddly and loving towards some strangers while totally hostile towards others. He likes his freedom and I respect that, unlike other doggies he will never beg for food and walk away with pride as he has managed to survive on his own, for as long as he had. He will want love and attention but food does not motivate him the least bit.

Naughty Shylo Covered in Mud

My third doggie is Shylo baby; he is a Husky, only ten months old yet. He is sweet, very handsome and very naughty. Unlike the others, he hardly ever barks, but howls sometimes. He is playful and spoiled and I cannot stop spoiling him. He sleeps in my bedroom as I cannot trust to leave him unattended. He has chewed away my high heels and antique books. His joyful attitude and kisses make him very charming. Also he punishes himself by sitting quietly in a corner, with an “I know I am guilty” look on his face, after he has been bad. He likes to bend the rules and I cannot be too mad as I am a rule bender myself, so I cannot help but relate which makes me a bad discipliner, yet a happy dog owner.

Their presence keeps me in the moment and away from complicated human emotions at times. Everything is very simple and joyful for them which cheers me up mostly.

The way I am connected to them helps us communicate very well. Delilah gave birth recently and I helped her. A few years ago no one could convince me, that I had it in me to assist a dog’s birth process. I thought I was one of those people who cannot see blood. Actually I was sure of it. This experience showed me once again that we are not clear on our potential until a situation presents itself where it is tested.

Delilah's Babies

One morning, I was in bed and heard a cry coming from the garden. As I looked out the window I saw something in her mouth, frankly at first I thought she caught a rat or something. Then it hit me she had her first born in her mouth and the baby was crying. She kept dropping it. My natural instinct was to go help her, after all I am her guardian, I ‘m used to taking care of her. So I collected the babies, which she for some reason dropped at different parts of the garden, helped her clean them, and made sure she felt safe about their wellbeing. The birth took a few hours and once she was done I collected them in a basket and brought them inside the house, as she was very uneasy on how to protect them. She was not able to carry them without dropping and did not feel good about leaving the rest while carrying one. Anyhow inside the house she chose my bedside as a good spot, so I placed all the babies there and she started feeding them. This was normally Shylo’s sleeping spot, so I guess being so close to me must make them somehow feel safe.

Every few hours I would collect the babies into the basket, clean the floor and Delilah would go out for a few minutes. This went on for a few days and then she felt comfortable enough to use the crib that is specially designed for the occasion and big enough for her and the babies. I had to hand-feed her mostly, as she would not leave the babies even to feed herself for a few days. Later on she relaxed and started eating properly yet became very thin. Then one night as I was sleeping she came into my bedroom. She is very smart and knows how to open doors even with round door knobs which amazes me. Anyhow, she woke me up and was clearly very sick. I felt terribly worried; she just dropped her large frame on the floor looking awfully weak. I placed some honey on her gums. It is a trick I learned a while back. Sweets are not good for them but when dogs are very sick and spit out anything you give them, a little honey on the gums gives them nutrition and is impossible to spit out.

Then I boiled her some eggs as that is something she loves. She ate some, but still was very weak. The next day the vet gave her antibiotic shots for a few days, and explained that she could not feed the babies anymore. She was feverish and too weak. They had ripped open one of her breasts. While going through this period, a few things amazed me.

One of them was her mother instinct that she tried to feed the babies while they were painfully clutching on the wound. Of course I would not let them and she guided me on how to take care of them through her eyes and her whining. It was astonishing. Here I was attending her bloody wound, cleaning it and applying ointment, which is tricky as she wants to lick the area, better yet let the babies suck on it. Her pain and the situation made me once again, forget that I could not see blood once upon a time. I also tried applying Aloe Vera from the plant in my garden, after cooling it in the fridge. At least this way she was feeling relived while it was perfectly OK if she licked it.

She has recovered after a few days of medicine, love and attention. Because I did not let her near the babies, fearing that they will suck on her wound making it worse, until she was fine, she used to wake me up at around 4 am, to get me to feed her babies. If I went to bed after feeding them, she woke me up again, making sure I clean each one with a baby wipe, as normally she licks them each clean. It has been an interesting experience for me. Thank God she is up and running again and the babies have moved onto dry food.

Shylo is back in his sleeping spot. George is annoyed with all the crowd and likes to spend time in the garden away from the others. He never ganged up with other doggies when he lived on the street, so he still is the same. He enjoys the company very much but likes his privacy too. Shylo likes to run from me, making me chase after him. He let’s me be when I am working on something but somehow knows when I am done and drags me to the garden to play with him. If he feels sick, he runs into the house finds me. It is a bit annoying that he comes inside to throw up, but I understand it, he runs to me when he is sick and that I cannot be mad about.

This might seem like a long introduction to another story that I am about to tell, but it is relevant. My doggies mean a lot to me, they are my friends and I feel very protective over them. We have fun together and they are very jolly always jiggling their tails.

A few days ago, I took all three of them for a small walk by the Bosphorus. We passed through a small park, reached the seaside and had some fun. I usually do not put George on a leash as it is too much to keep all three on a leash. They are young, strong and all together weigh a lot more than me. On the way back home, as we entered the park, I stopped to catch my breath for a moment. This was an area that cannot be seen from anywhere and no one was around. Two men came and George barked at them. I told him to stop and told the guys to just keep walking. One of the guys picked a small pebble to throw at George, which did not bother me so much; I know what it is like to fear a barking dog. The guy wants to feel safe I thought. Instead of walking away he picked up a large beer bottle.

I told him “Don’t throw it!”

He said “I will throw it he should not bark.”

I said “He has a right to exists, just walk away, I am alone here, he barks to protect me, he is just a dog, let him be.”

He said “He can exist but he barks, so I will throw it.”

As he moved his hand up, to throw the bottle at George, I said”If you throw that bottle I will release her, showing Delilah.” (Most people know Kangal’s, reputation for killing wolves)

He threw it while saying, “Release her, what can she do?”

I did release her, as Shylo’s leash was attached to hers they both went, cornered the second guy. My baby Shylo is sweet but looks scary to some, as he resembles a wolf with his white coat and colored eyes.

George had moved to the side to escape the bottle, and cornered the guy who threw it barking at him like hell.

The guy Delilah and Shylo were barking at was literally shaking in his spot. He could not function. Like I said I used to fear dogs, I can relate to that panicky feeling, so when I saw him shaking I grabbed her leash, and said “If you are so scared, why did you not say so?” we walked away.

In the park I saw some men who are regulars and like to drink some beer there. They know George and pet him usually; they were surprised with his ongoing hostile attitude. I told them, that two guys had just disturbed us and that he was still in his protective mood, not letting anyone much talk to me.

So as we kept walking the two guys came after us, they found some rocks to throw at Delilah. They were yelling “I will kill your dog.”

I could not believe it!

They threw one of the rocks at her, which was not good idea. I saw a side of my baby that I could not possible imagine. She did not move or shake the least bit, and was braking in the most intimidating way. So as I held on tight to her leash, I pepper-sprayed the guy’s face. He had come close enough for me to do so.

The wind diffused the spray and protected his eyes, but the fact that I attacked him for attacking my dog shocked him. The men from the park came to pull him away, saying “What are you doing, that is a lady.” He kept yelling” What kind of lady is this, a lady should know her place.” Repeating “What kind of lady is this?”

Anyhow I walked away, with my doggies. Since Delilah’s breed is famous for their killing abilities in order to protect, throwing rocks at her was a bad idea. The first story above, probably makes it clear how much I care about all of them, the fact that some guys would dare attack them in front of me, still enrages me. If the doggies harmed those guys in defense, they would be guilty, how to explain that these idiots kept attacking us with rocks.

After the whole thing was over, I realized that the guys had a problem not only with my dogs, but with my self confidence. Their strong accent suggests that they were from the South-East of Turkey where honor killings and women oppression is a great problem. So they could not accept that a woman disabled them with her dogs and then walked away from them.

They had to make me suffer; remind me that I am a woman.

I had to be the one trembling and shaking not them!

The fact that I collected Delilah and with an attitude that says “Oh you are scared…”  almost like “It’s Ok don’t be..” and walked away, must have been the greatest insult of their life.

This is why they had come back for revenge. Hoping to disable my dog, taking away my power, so when I pepper sprayed them without hesitation while confidently saying “You cannot do this, I won’t let you.”  They were shocked.

Probably happy to allow the men who pull them away to do so, as their pride dictates to be pulled away. They cannot walk away from the situation. I am sure that they oppress the women in their life so terribly, that a come back from a woman is beyond their imagination.

This is a sad fact of my country, and is getting worse by the year. The Mild Islam program that many find so appealing, does encourage these womanizers to push females around, while expecting the rest of the society to side with them. I’ve had pepper spray since college. I’ve lived seven years in America, while attending college. I’ve been to India, Asia, Africa, and Europe on my own, many times. When people who see the pepper spray-can asked me “Does it even work?” My response used to be “I don’t know, thank God I never had to use it.”

Yet this is the second occasion in one year that I had to pepper spray a man, for attacking me. I am the kind of person, who would do anything to avoid such situations, but if I am already in the situation, surely I will fight like hell.  Still the above mentioned affair occurred  mid-day, in one of the best neighborhoods of Istanbul.

How to avoid that?  Not walk my dog without a man? Is that what they hope to achieve?

Literally, everyday I see another woman on the news who has been killed by her boyfriend/husband or ex-husband. These violent men live among us and believe that it is OK to pick on ladies. I have no idea how things will get better for women, but I know that the problem is more serious than many realize. I believe that these guys will think twice before they mess with another woman, but the big picture is so distressing that this does not give me much relief…

Follow me on Twitter@banugokyar

http://www.hrw.org/news/2011/06/09/turkey-backward-step-women-s-rights

The experience made me realize that there is an exchange of energy in these group exercise classes. It all started with me feeling drained and too tired to get onto the treadmill one day and a delightful girlfriend pulling me into the cycle class that she was about to join. I went in feeling tired and came out rejuvenated. All that intense exercise helped me shake off the lethargy. Aside from the music, the pace of the class and the vibe had a lifting effect on me.

A while later my back was hurting so I could not vigorously exercise. I started joining the Pilates and yoga classes. Pilates does wonders. I must say my back was better in no time. The yoga fit class was a tricky one. Yoga-fit is not spiritual at all and I am a Sahaja Yogini. It helps the body stretch amazingly, which does marvels on the back. Still, when I realized that the instructor who used to greet me all the time before I joined her class, saw herself as my guru now, thereby did not bother to salute me, two things became clear. One is that she does not have the slightest idea on the philosophy of yoga, as humility is kind of a major part of it, if one is into that path. This is not very important, given that I was there for the stretch and she is very good at that. The second however is a little more complicated, Yoga by definition means “Union” so in the state of Yoga we are meant to Unite with the whole. Treating something that is called Yoga even if it ends with fit, as exercise only, will take some getting used to.

The Zumba classes that I’ve been joining , have been completely uplifting and joyous. Then I discovered some new classes that are also intense such as Extremely fit or Tango Salsa Caliente. Now these were not the average group work outs, as I could feel my muscles the next day which is a good sign. The significance of these classes of course is not only that they feel efficient, but suddenly I found myself in a very hostile environment. Ladies in these classes, tend to snap at me with all kinds of ridiculous excuses. Either I block their view of the mirror, which deserves a harsh remark in their mind, instead of a gentle “Could you move a little?”

So I found myself mentally more tired when I leave these classes than physically. We are all connected, so the mood in a room filled with people doing the same things rubs off onto each other. In cycle or Zumba this was a positive exchange. I was wondering how it is possible that all these ladies are so snappy. The instructor is great, he has a bright smile and he makes us all break real sweat, but the tension is not that easy to break. It did not take me too long to realize that I was at the “Desperate Housewives” work out time slot.

They are frustrated, possibly dissatisfied, and therefore snappy. Although I personally find them annoying, for sucking the fun out of what is meant to be a perfect exercise class, being a yogini, I also find myself trying to understand what’s up here. There was a time when house wives were the homemakers, the joy givers, the sweet ladies. What kind of change occurred in society’s perception of them that they feel so dissatisfied with them selves and project it onto others.

I guess all these “Fashion Police” and equivalent TV shows do not help anyone’s self esteem. These shows tear celebrities apart by heavily criticizing their choices in clothing or looks in general. I am often shocked how these shows can exist. They are justifying rudeness, harshness and worse than all they steal emphasis from the things that really matter in life. Esthetics is surely appealing, but inner joy cannot come from appearances. Aging is part of life and nobody can escape it. When women in their late forties or early fifties try to be size two, it just makes them suffer through harsh diets. Hunger can make one snappy!

The irony is that mature skin agrees much better with a little fat on the body.

Breaking a good sweat through exercise can be mood elevating, and even that does not seem to take the edge off with these ladies. It is not so much their fault but more the standard of appearances that they feel they need to reach, is unnatural and imposed through all kinds of mediums.

Most TV shows, impose this insane idea that buying a new bag or new clothes is the answer to life improvement. Personally I love fine things in life and won’t deny the pleasure I feel when buying or using them, but they are the end result, not the source. If one lacks joy, things cannot help as the perception of things will be off as well. The same way if we do not like ourselves from the inside, losing weight or changing the hair would not solve the problem.

This does not mean we should let go of our appearances.

As a Turkish woman I come from a long line of women who love to pamper themselves through the Hamam tradition. Along with the cleansing, comes clarity. I feel very blessed to be a lady, and consider all the pampering we get to have such as scented creams etc, a celebration. The time we get to spend on ourselves should be joyful whether it is a spa day, yoga, exercises or dance.

How can anyone be snappy while dancing?

When you think about it, it does not make the least bit of sense, as dance is mostly an expression of joy.

Just like the yoga instructor who does not bother saluting people who join her class, when we keep things away from the heart but on the mental level we lose joy. The absence of bliss can turn any activity into a burden. It is actually very simple, when we remind ourselves how we managed to enjoy as children, not minding a million details, we can all feel it again instantly. Once joy is present the rest works itself out miraculously, as love is the most efficient way of diffusing tension…

Follow me on Twitter@banugokyar

In 2003 Al Qaeda bombed the HSBC headquarters, the British Embassy and some Jewish Temples inIstanbul. In spite of the strategic places where the bombs were placed, the people who died were mostly Turks, Jewish and Muslim. Bin Laden had no problem attacking a Muslim nation and he was not yet perceived as the symbol of Islam by Christian countries.

How that happened often puzzles me, although I recall reading articles on the subject in the late nineties, long before 9/11 had occurred. Political forecasts at the time were suggesting that the threat of communism is going to be replaced by the threat of Islam. Frankly, it seemed a bit far off at the time. I had grown up in a secular Muslim country. The pieces I read were suggesting that the American public needs an enemy and with the cold war ending, communism could no longer be considered much of a threat, so it was going to be Islam.

Time proved the argument to be true. Fifteen years later we see an American public, with the idea that Islam means terror.

Could that really be the case? Could a religion that has the second largest following in the world be about terrorism?

“Come on who is going to believe that?” is what crossed one’s mind back in 1997.

Hollywood movies from the cold war era always picture the Russian as the bad guys and movies dated after 2001 always portray the Muslim, mostly Arabs as the bad guys.

How is this relevant?

It is no secret that the majority of the public is very much influenced by such movies. Not only in America but in most countries the general public does not have in depth information on history, or cultures of different nations.

The fact that Al Qaeda placed bombs in Istanbul makes them the enemy to Muslims as well. Yet the perception was never so, it was more like Osama calls for Jihad, he does it in the name of Islam so all Muslims shall be in agreement with him.

Really?

The world of Islam may not at all be in agreement with Al Qaeda but there is another point that seems to be missed, which often puzzles me. Millions of Muslims had died in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Palestine.

 How is that they do not matter?

What kind of mindset justifies attacks when they come from one side and condemns them when from a different side?

This draws my attention back to the Hollywood movies. They create a myth that is fun to buy into. In most of these movies,  American values are highlighted in every possible way, where people matter! America is mostly featured as the invincible police of the world, the country that ends disputes and makes things right. The truth however turned out to be a little different. When Housni Mubarek, tried to hold on to his dictatorship, before it was known to the world that the people of Egypt were ready to die, before backing down, President Obama made a statement saying ” Our priority in the region is stability, over democracy.”

The rest of the world interpreted this as “We get on with this dictator, he listens to us, tough luck that the people are not fond of him.”

After a courageous fight of the people, everyone decided to support the public as opposed to the dictator.

How is this relevant?

Well, all these movies make it look like American soldiers are in the Middle-East or Afghanistan, trying to establish democracy for the people. Those who fight back are never perceived as people who defend their country, but surely terrorists.

Arabs live in caves, in most of these movies. I’m sure the writers of those movie scripts have no idea that the Algebra class that they possibly struggled with is named after the Arabian chemist Al-Gebir. 

Yes! It is the Arabs who advanced the world in something that is needed in many fields from Aerospace to computing.

The word Checkmate comes from the Arabic Shah-Mat. French borrowed their word from Arabic shah mat “the king is dead”. The Arabic phrase is made up of shah “king”, a word borrowed from Persian (as in the Shah of Iran) plus mat “died” from Mata “to die”.

The oldest known Chess books or parts thereof are in Arabic, written about 850 AD.

Yes! Arabs were writing books on chess, long before the western world ever heard of the game.

Aristotle’s teachings were first written in Arabic and later translated into Greek from the Arabic, scriptures. Guess why? Because the Eastern world had the appreciation to write his work before the rest could recognize his importance.

“Ibn Sīnā, or Avicenna as he is better known, was an outstanding Persian scientist around the beginning of the 11th century; he was the true successor to Aristotle. His writings on medicine and drugs, which were particularly authoritative and remained so until the Renaissance, did much to bring the works of Aristotle back to Europe, where they were translated into Latin from Arabic.” (http://www.britannica.com/facts/5/498724/Avicenna-as-discussed-in-biology)

Ibn Sina recognized and made Aristotle known to the East in 11th century, the Renaissance happened between the 14th and 17th century.

It took the European three to five hundred years to acknowledge their own philosopher and for that they needed the Arabic scripts.

Ibn Sina also wrote medical textbooks in Arabic, which doctors like Maimonides used all over the Abbasid Empire and (once they had been translated into Latin) all over Europe too all through the Middle Ages. Ibn Sina may have been the first person to realize that you could catch diseases like measles or smallpox or tuberculosis from other people.

I could go on with many more examples, but the point that I’ve been trying to establish is that Arabian or Persian scientist and philosophers have advanced the world in vital areas such as medicine, science, philosophy and much more. Portraying them as tribal people living in caves is simply absurd and shows ignorance of the portrayer. I do not mean to blame the world’s chaos on a bunch of movies but no one can deny their influence. The entertainment industry has no obligation to enlighten people. Then again all that misleading might have caused people to have a false sense of security while trapped in those buildings during 9/11 and kept them from trying to find a way out when they had the chance.

Al-Qaida’s attack on innocent civilians has been condemned by the world, but as mentioned earlier in the article they had attacked Istanbul as well, and killed Muslims. Terrorism is a terrible thing to suffer from but the assumption that anyone who follows the same faith or speaks the same language with the attacker is also a potential terrorist is just absurd.

Considering all the help of advanced technology in this time and age one would hope that members of different civilizations would understand each other, as opposed to clashing with one another. When a movie like the Avatar comes out, suddenly everyone loves and understands each other and nature…..One can only hope that that is the direction mankind will eventually be headed towards…..we are meant to complete each other not omit…..

Follow me on Twitter@banugokyar

Sources:

http://www.hks.harvard.edu/fs/pnorris/Acrobat/stm103%20articles/Fox_Clash_Ext_Conflict.pdf

http://www.websters-online-dictionary.org/definitions/Algebra

http://www.alphadictionary.com/goodword/word/checkmate

http://www.silk-road.com/newsletter/volumeonenumberone/origin.html

http://www.historyforkids.org/learn/islam/science/ibnsina.htm

http://www.britannica.com/facts/5/498724/Avicenna-as-discussed-in-biology

http://www.nature.com/nrm/journal/v2/n6/box/nrm0601_475a_BX2.html

So as I passed through the little space between the Van and the bushes, I became out of sight when looked  from the road.

We all pass like that all the time without thinking, right?

The driver, who had gotten out of the car, passed me by in this little space, trapped between the bushes and the van, invisible to the road.  As soon as he passed me by, he grabbed me from behind, reaching his hand from in between my legs, grabbing my genitals.

I could not believe it!!!

In that split second I turned around, and while screaming out a big “Aii” I pepper sprayed the hell out of him.

Yes! I had pepper spray in my hand, like I always do when walking around in less crowded places, even if they are supposedly safe.

Oddly how, the fact that I did not even have to reach for the spray, but was so prepared, scared the hell out of my attacker and he started running as fast as he could while checking to see if I was after him. He kept on checking to see if I was behind him on every third step, with a very frightened expression on his face. So we changed roles in one split second. There he was out to attack me, now he was running from me, which felt kind of funny even while it was happening. I was wearing cargo pants, and sneakers at the moment and I run on the treadmill everyday, so he could not possibly out run me if I were to chase him, which of course I did not!

I am not built very big, which is probably why he chose me as prey in the first place. It would have been difficult for me to get the guy to the authorities, as it was dark, and there were no people around. So I walked away, went home.

Anyhow, he seemed so terrified of me that I don’t think that he will attack anyone anytime soon.

Over the years I had been teased about having pepper spray in my purse, and this was a moment that I felt glad that I don’t care what others say, and follow my instinct.

I had moved toAmerica, to go to college when I was nineteen. Living on my own while on a different time zone than my parents, has made me cautious, in the sense that I would go everywhere all by myself, but always with a sense of  awareness. Rape was almost common on campus, which is when I had developed the habit of hand carrying pepper spray, when it is dark and I am alone. Luckily nothing bad happened throughout my years in college.

I recall a documentary that I had watched as a student that explained that attackers do not like fighters as they prey on fear. They were advising not to demonstrate fear, if under attack. Come to think of it, this makes perfect sense; the guy who grabbed me is probably a loser, who only feels strong when he can scare helpless women. Strangely, I did not feel the least bit petrified of him. I was spraying the hell out of him, maddened how he dared touch me!

He knew that I was up for a fight, right away. Given that I am small in size, he sure did not see that coming. The way he kept running from me, was really a priceless moment.

At instants of crises, one recalls previous recommendations which is one of the reasons that I decided to share this experience. Having pepper spray handy, is not a bad idea, but most of all knowing that the attacker is a“nobody”, a sleazebag whose only strength might be inflicting fear, may help taking his strength away.

According to the Human Rights Watch organization, Domestic Violence has risen up to 42% inTurkey. Sadly I have no recommendation to offer to those who suffer at home. Women endure a great deal of brutality and it is getting worse and worse. Men, who are violent at home, are not much different outside the house. I have lived in America, travelled to India, Asia, Africa, Europe, as a woman living in Istanbul I cannot help but observe that male attitude towards women, is changing. Lack of respect for women, is getting more acceptable by the year, which is encouraging men to become more and more violent against women.

It can only get better if culturally there is more reaction against violent men, which is not the case as the so called ‘Mildly Islamist’ environment encourages, women to disappear from politics, from the work force and even the streets if possible!

Source:

http://www.hrw.org/en/news/2011/05/04/turkey-women-left-unprotected-violence

It is terrible, and there is no excuse for their actions. They may be offended but killing innocent people over it, is just terribly cruel.

According to the Reuters report the rage and violence, has continued the next day.

”In the violence they also broke windows and burned chairs at the Zarghona High School for girls. The Taliban opposed girls’ education, and Kandahar was their spiritual heartland.

“I took part in the demonstration to curse the foreigners, but I had no weapon,” shopkeeper Rahim Mohammad said.

“But I don’t feel sorry for U.N. workers killed, our people are slaughtered by foreigners everyday.”

More volatile protests are possible across deeply religious Afghanistan, where anti-Western sentiment has been fueled for years by civilian casualties, and the Taliban.” (Reuters)

The Taliban did not even own up to the killings and claimed that these were Muslim reactions. Over-reactions would have been a more suitable word.

Looking into Afghan history would be needed to understand this hatred towards foreigners. The word Afghan was initially used to address the Peshtun (Patan) tribal people who lived in the valley. The Peshtuns in the mountains were addressed by their tribes name and used to move around in the area which is now the Afghanistan Pakistan border. Historically this society was formed of many clans and tribes that were tied through kinship, language and tradition. There was no national identity that united them.

However Sir Olaf Caroe who was a Major within the British Colony between 1946-47 had tracked Peshtun’s roots back to 550 BC. In 331 BC Alexander the Great had won a victory over the Persian Emporium. After that he travelled all the way to, what is today Afghanistan. Some Patan tribes like the idea that their forefathers were members of Alexander’s Macedonian army, which remained on this land.

The first Afghan dynasty was formed in 1747 by Ahmet Han from the Sadozai Klan. He was appointed to be the Afghan Han by the rest of the tribal leaders. The Dynasty did not last for too long and had been defeated by the Singhs at the time. However their reign did not last too long either. After the Singh war, the first British-Afghan war occured between 1838-1842. During this period the country was ruled by the Dost Muhammad Klan. Their good relations with the Russian caused a second British-Afghan war to break out, between 1878-1881. At the end of this war, both Russia and Britain recognized Afghanistan to be impartial, and the region was considered a buffer zone.

Mahmut Tarzi was the grand son of Payende Han, who was part of the dynasty. He lived in Damascus, which was Turkish territory at the time. He had this great desire, to create a unifying Afghan National identity, as he had been influenced by the “Young Turks” of the time, who were making reforms, which was later to be known as the foundation of modern Turkey.

Emir Habibullah, the leader of Afghanistan at the time, had invited Mahmut Tarzi to return to his home land in 1903. Having observed Turkish reforms, Tarzi was filled with enthusiasm to bring change to Afghanistan. He started publishing a newspaper with modern ideas called Serac Ül Ahbar in 1911. When Emir Habibullah was assassinated in 1919, his son Amanullah Han took his place. Amanullah was married to Tarzi’s daughter Sureyya. He appointed, Tarzi as the minister of foreign affairs. Tarzi had spent a long time on Turkish territory, thereby spoke multiple foreign languages. He visited the US, Russia and places in Europe. What used to be the collaboration of tribes was now a modern country. Afghanistan was part of the international political scene. In 1921 the British signed an agreement, recognizing Afghanistan’s independence in foreign affairs.

Atatürk, Queen Sureyya

Queen Sureyya, looked very modern and Afghanistan was following the Turkish example on modernization. Everything seemed fine, but the Queen’s modern outlook did disturb some circles. Eventually, Amanullah Han was overthrown and Bacik Saka took his place. He did not last long either, as the Peshtun people refused a Tajik leader. Nadir Shah from Amanullah’s family took the throne next, but was assassinated in 1933. His son Zahir Shah took his place and kept leadership until 1973, which was when his cousin Davud overthrew him.

Emir Amanullah Queen Sureyya of Afghanistan

So from 1903 to 1973 for about seventy years, despite some set backs the country was going forward, becoming a nation, as opposed to a community of united Klans. Although Amanullah, lost his throne over it, reforms were still happening and by 1960 the country seemed rather modern.

Davud lost his leadership to the communists in 1978. Soviet interference caused liberal intellectuals to flee. In 1992 Necibullah’s leadership was also overthrown, which caused the socialist intellectual’s to flee, as well.

Afghanistan in the 60

A region with not many intellectuals to lead has fallen into the hands of Taliban. Since 1838 the British and Russian have had interference in the region, later on the US joined as well. The hatred towards foreigners must be, based on the fact that for the last three centuries, foreigners had come to Afghanistan only for war. None of this justifies the hateful acts. This is a mere attempt, to understand the rage these people have towards life and why they cannot form a normal social environment, as opposed to the current situation where medieval rules are applied. They are not only cruel to foreigners, but also very cruel towards themselves. Life for women has become unbearable since 1996. It is so bad that they, burn themselves, to death. Maybe not as severe but men are also oppressed. The burning of the Koran must have seemed like a justifiable reason, for acting out the built in rage, from being constantly subjugated.

Looking at the photos from the 1960’s, it’s hard to imagine how Afghanistan became the way it is today.

Afghanistan in the 60

Clearly, with no intellectuals left around to help mold the ideas of a nation, while leading it, a country encounters great set backs. Combining this with constant foreign intervention, seems to push the nation back into medieval times. Most cruel leaders, use foreign intrusion as an excuse, to tighten the grip on their own people. It’s easier to have tyranny over less educated, therefore less civilized societies, as it keeps them from getting organized and demanding better conditions.

 “In the violence they also broke windows and burned chairs at the Zarghona High School for girls. The Taliban opposed girls’ education, and Kandahar was their spiritual heartland.”

The Taliban did not own up to the killings of the UN staff, but during the chaos, when everyone was focused on the killings, the girls’ school got destroyed as well, and that is how they tighten the grip just a little more…..

Follow me on twitter@Banugokyar

Sources:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/02/world/asia/02afghanistan.html?src=me&ref=world

http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/04/03/us-afghanistan-violence-kabul-idUSTRE7310FK20110403?pageNumber=3

National Geographic Turkey, 2001 December, Ahmet Han

                                                                                                                                                               *The original lies thousands of kilometers away in a collection at Vienna’s Ethnology Museum. Mexico has long wanted to see the original returned

It is a shame that the natives do not get to see or showcase artifacts of their own land. Looting of artifacts has been on going for a long time. Especially before and after the world wars, a lot of artifacts have been taken from their original locations.

**A magnificent 3500 years old Hittite Sphinx had been unearthed around 1906 in Turkey. It was considered one of the greatest discoveries. The Sphinx had been taken to Berlin to be restored, not to be kept, only to be restored, yet had never been returned and was still in the Pergamon Museum until recently. Turkey’s minister for culture Ertugrul Gunay had to give an ultimatum that German archeologists will not be allowed to continue, digging in Turkey, if they do not return the Sphinx.

It worked. Germany decided to return the master peace to Turkey.  One could argue that these items are universal treasures and it should not matter where they are displayed, as long as future generations get to see them, but it is hard to know who would be a better guard.

***Forty giant statues, were taken from a temple in the ancient settlement of Tell Halaf in what is now northern Syria, by German adventurer and diplomat Baron Max von Oppenheim, and caused a sensation when they came to Europe. Baron exposed them to a private museum in Berlin between 1930 and November 1943 when an allied bombing destroyed the place. The fire roasted artifacts of basalt, and water used to douse the flames caused the material to splinter into a thousand pieces.

They have recently been reassembled, after nine years of reassembling effort of 25 000 pieces. That was probably the most rewarding puzzle to be completed. The Pergamon Museum in Berlin presented the restored objects.

The point is that if they had remained in Syria, they would have been safe during World War II which is when they were destroyed.

Artifacts looted during that period are still being discovered, some of which are being returned to their rightful owners. ****According to the New York Times article, 370-year-old painting that belonged to a Jewish art dealer who fled the Netherlands around the time of the Nazi invasion in 1940 will be returned to his family by the J. Paul Getty Museum. (The Associated Press reported.)

The painting, “Landscape With Cottage and Figures,” done by Pieter Molijn around 1640, belonged to Jacques Goudstikker, a prominent dealer who died in a fall on a ship while fleeing the Nazis with his wife and son. His collection was looted, and some of the art ended up in the hands of the Nazi leader Hermann Goering, according to the Associated Press report.

In a written statement released Monday, museum officials stated: “Working in cooperation with representatives of the Goudstikker heirs, the Getty’s research revealed that the painting was in Goudstikker’s inventory at the time of the invasion in 1940, and that it was never restituted after World War II. Based on its findings, the Getty concluded that the painting should be transferred to the heirs.”

It sounds fair that the painting gets returned to the heirs of the original owner. Maybe the same principle should be applied to all looted artifacts and they should all be returned to their rightful claimers.

One of the world wonders had been removed from Turkey, Halicarnassus .The Halicarnassus Mausoleum had been shipped to England decades ago and is on display at the British Museum. Legend says that a Halicarnassus fisherman was very sad while the artifact was being uprooted from where it had been built around 350 BC, by architects Pytheos, Satyrus.  Skopas, Timotheos, Bryaris Leochares were the famous sculptors to work on the sides. It had been built by the Karian, who used to reside in the area at the time. (An ancient Western Anatolian Civilization) They worshipped the Anatolian Goddess Hecate. Ancient Egyptians  called the Karian” The bronze people who come out of the heart of the sea”. The fisherman said that the artifact will miss its home, miss the sea. They said “No worries we will paint the room that is displayed in blue.” It was blue for a while and then everyone forgot.

Looted items seem to be returned to their original spots. Who knows maybe one of these days headdress of Mexico’s last Aztec ruler, might find its way home or the Mausoleum might find its way back to Halicarnassus.

Most of the artifacts of ancient times, mean more than art, as they represent spiritual beliefs of the time. The forty giant statues, clearly did not agree with their new location, after being removed from Syria. Did bombs destroy them or did they destroy Berlin for all the cruelty happening at the time.

Who knows?

Mankind is still cruel and the hope is that one day that shall change.

The world is going through floods, wars, Tsunamis…. Would returning ancient spiritual objects home, be a symbol of the end of looting and help Aztec, Karian or other deities put the world right?

Maybe or maybe not, the point is that having looted artifacts decades ago, should not be an excuse for holding on to them.

Follow me on twitter@banugokyar

Sources:

*http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-12404699

**http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,,14875550,00.html

***http://www.gospress.com/entertainment/berlin-museum-restores-artifacts-destroyed-in-the-2nd-war.html

***http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/30/getty-museum-will-return-painting-looted-by-nazis/?partner=rss&emc=rss

*****http://www.kulturturizm.gov.tr/TR/belge/1-1493/bodrum—halikarnas-mausoleumu.html