Taking the linguistic plunge

What does it mean to implicate myself in Turkish history? Is it simply a process of sublimation whereby being here is enough to be Turkish? I will not be so bold as to pretend that I can ever be Turkish. I can't of course. But I can add another hyphen, expand the neural-net of identities I've accumulated: Adnan R. Khan, Indian-Pakistani-Canadian-Turk. But that will not happen through geography alone. Being here is only the planting of the seed; it still needs water, and sunlight, and the occasional weeding out of domineering elements, a process by which my Turkish self can finally flourish.

I've begun that process, first through learning the ney and now, finally, through that all-important component of culture and identity - language. That has been the elephant in my otherwise perfectly harmonious Turkish divan, the ogre on my back whispering Turkish curses in my ear knowing full well that I don't understand a damn thing. When I do, he will disappear.

My girlfriend is now giving me Turkish lessons. We have nights where I'm not allowed to speak any English, which is quite amusing for her, somwehat frustrating and exhausting for me. My vocabulary is expanding, along with my understanding of Turkish history - words, for example, that hark back to the Ottoman era and hence have a certain imperial connotation which, if used, colour your speech with shades of huzun. There are 'Turkish' equivalents, naturally, that speak of a more western-oriented, "modern" present and future. The other day, after consulting my Turkish-English dictionary, I said to Sibel: Bu aksam, Hindistandan yemis yapicigim. She lauighed, not because my verb tense wasn't quite right but because the word 'yemis' is an old, village term for dessert. In modern, urban Turkish they say 'tatli.' People will laugh at me if I use yemis, she warned, I suppose because it marks me as a bit of a yokel. Still, it's an intriguing language in that sense, layered with meanings derived from such a rich and varied history. That will be the adventure as well as the challenge as I learn more. In the end, I want to be able to read Orhan Pamuk in Turkish. Turks tell me it's a whole different experience, in part because Pamuk plays with the history of Turkish words and phrasing for certain effects which are virtually impossible to translate.

Once I can appreciate Pamuk in his mother-tongue, I think I'll be in the position to add on that newest hyphen. Yavas yavas...