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| Approaching the main university entrance |
It is the start of yet another brand new month, and I have
had a hard time trying to convince myself that counting the months that I have
been here for is not healthy for me. On the first day of every month, I always
try unsuccessfully to stop this habit that most often sends me straight to the
evil world of depression and homesickness. But hey, I am not about to sit on
my bed and cry my heart out, neither am I going to drink my problems away. That
I have tried before. Somehow I used to think vodka made me forget “staff”, that
I would have one glass a night and then rock myself to sleep. For a while it
was a harmless good enough excuse, or as I liked to call it “compulsion”, but
eventually I had to give it up. So I had figured it is, in fact, writing about it
that helps me fight my demons head-on and ironically, sharing my stories makes
me feel sane and motivated and energized and ... all sorts of positive things
you could ever think about.
Unfortunately, I feel like some of my first-year memories in
Turkey are starting to fade away. I know that because I have had those
“remember when...” kind of discussions way too much for my liking and what
better way to memorialize them than to share them with you. But before that,
here is a disclaimer! (This is just a few of my experiences here, chosen
arbitrarily)
ARRIVAL, September
This was over a year ago, but yeah you guessed right, I
remember it like it was yesterday. The flight I boarded the last day from
Johannesburg landed in Istanbul the next morning at around 5 am (Istanbul
time). Outside was considerably cold for an autumn morning and the cold breeze
blew off my cap as if to say WELCOME TO TURKEY! I picked it off the ground and
continued to follow a bunch of passengers from the flight into the entrance
written “INTERNATIONAL ARRIVALS”. I gazed at them miserably to see from their
faces if anyone of them would be willing to help me or let’s say, walk with me
to the customs area. But honestly, it was not as hard as I thought it would be to
get around the airport, not with all the signs hanging all over the place
written both in English and some strange language I would soon learn to know as
Turkish.
After some standing in a queue and a lot of frustrations to
find local departures I finally found what I thought was my terminal. I asked
one guy who was in a security uniform “Where do I find local departures gates?”
He gave me the eye that said “get out of here man”, and now that I think of it,
you can’t really blame him, Atatürk Airport is one of the busiest if not the
busiest airport in Europe, the poor guy had better things to do than give
strangers directions because surely I wasn't the only one.
So I asked another one, who was a woman, secretly hoping to
get a better and pleasant response. And I did, however, she couldn’t speak
English. She pointed me in a direction where I continued to read the signs all
the way to Izmir boarding Gate. And I was supposed to go to Adana instead. I
stood there for a while, looked at the time, looked up at the flight
information display system and back at my boarding pass. I still cannot get to
wrap my head around how the heck I went blank about where I was going when I
had it in a completely obvious and unsubtle way on my boarding pass. Half an
hour later and something told me to check my acceptance letter, (to be sure
everything was in its place) and it said in the address, ADANA with bold
capital letters. I looked up again at the display system and my flight was in
an hour to Adana and not Izmir. I took my bag and hurried to the right gate
which was way easier to find. Talk about walking sleeping!
My first “friends”
As I was waiting for my flight, I saw two black guys my age,
with large carry-bags and a confused look on their faces, or at least one of
them. (I know I am not going to hear the end of it once they see this). I was
relieved after I had last seen a black person on the flight from Johannesburg. I
wanted to go up to them, but I didn’t know what I was going to do or say “Hey
my name is James!” That would be awkward.
They disappeared for a while and resurfaced once we started
boarding. I reckon they were taking pictures of each other the whole time
because that's the only thing I saw them doing until one of them came up to me
as we walked to the plane. “Hi! Are you also going to Adana?” he asked as if
the flight was not going directly to Adana. And just like that, we started
talking and I found out that one was from Liberia and the other from Ghana. We
sat separately and only met again when we landed in Adana. Turkey in September
has some rainfall, temperatures usually fall rapidly and generally, it is
cooler, except Adana. Adana is like a superhot, so much that locals say you can
fry an egg on the stone. I could feel the loose shirt start to cling to my back
in places, and the heat rained down on us like the breath of hell. Nothing and
no one moved in that penetrating heat unless they were desperate, and we were.
As I waited for my bag at the conveyor belt, I heard a voice
behind me “Do you have anyone who is picking you up?” It was the same guys I
met before boarding... again. Now with an African girl, a confident but quiet
South Sudanese girl! Together we met a Turkish university representative who
drove us off to our respective dormitories.
Settling
right in
My first weeks in Turkey were by far the most chaotic time
of my life. Imagine this: You go to bed at night only to wake up in a
completely different place, not even one familiar face, far away from your
familiar surroundings. Then, of course, add the monster that is the Turkish language!
As someone who comes from a place that's beaming with Asians, I remember how my
friends and I used to mock their languages and here I was thinking it can't get
any harder, then boom, Turkish happened. Honestly, I had been warned that most
of the Turkish people don't speak any English but when I got here, no one could
speak any English, at least not anyone I met. With the help of the African
students I met, I was able to call home, do registration and other necessary
activities. What immediately stood out for me was the number of students on
campus (There are about 40 000 students), so many buses, red ones and green ones
and white ones...buses everywhere, relatively big ones. A lot of these buses
are driven by women! I have seen women drive a minibus (sometimes called taxi)
but I have never seen a woman driving a bus. The transport system is also quite
different. Firstly, Turkey just like the rest of Europe drives on the right (Lesotho
and South Africa drive on the left). I have been very impressed by the local
transportation available to us, but I am definitely still getting the hang of
it. I found myself lost quite a bit in my first couple of days, but I am now
starting to figure out how the buses and metro work.
Another thing you are going to notice first thing here is
the obsession young people have with pictures. If I had a dollar for every time
someone walked to me and asked if I would like to be in a picture with them, I
would be filthy rich. On my very first days, I lost count of how many pictures
I took with the locals...especially girls, wait and boys too. It strangely made
me feel important, seeing all these people excited to see us. But do you know
when it gets annoying? Once you start understanding Turkish and so can tell
good people from bad ones. One day I was in a grocery store when a boy (about
12 years old) approached me and asked if I were a footballer? And my answer was
a resounding "No". He was evidently disappointed but still asked me
to be in a picture with him. "Why?" was my question eager to know why
he would want me to be in his picture when I am just a "regular student” Apparently
he was going to tell his friends at school that I play for some soccer team
here in Turkey! Another picture incident happened at the mall, well it started
on the bus to the mall. This one was off-putting! My friend and I were sitting
in one of these buses that have seats facing one another. Just in front of us
sat a lanky girl holding her smartphone taking pictures of us secretly! When my
friend confronted her she denied it. The same day we caught another group of
girls taking pictures of us while eating in one of the restaurants. I still get
this a lot, others come and without saying hi proceed to stretch their hands to
take a selfie with us. Others will ask politely, which is very refreshing and
so mature.
For anyone wanting a taste of that celebrity life, maybe you
should head to Turkey! But Turks are certainly some of the most welcoming,
friendly and overall good people. Thanks to my language teachers and my new
friends I soon felt "at home" at last, or so I thought.
Pause...
