On my travels across Turkey, I encountered many people in rural communities. The main centre for meeting anyone in the villages was the mosques. In each, the local mosque played an important role to keep the community connected. Elderly men would jostles and joke with each other, talk about all things ranging from their nagging wives to the politics of their country as they stir the sugar and sip their tea, waiting for the next call to prayer. As the sun started to go down, the call to prayer would burst through the loudspeakers and beam across the village. Crowds of men and sons would gather at the mosque, thudding off their shoes around the entrance. The tapping of splashing water echoed under the lime-lighted square as we washed our hands and feet. We would shake hands with one another in brotherhood. This is what routinely kept the community connected, warmed by the sun above noting the time to pray.
When I approached the Imam, I caught the attention of a few people. I told them my situation: how I had walked thousands of miles across their country to be here. People were extremely eager to help me. Sometimes, the Imam would get on the phone with anyone he knew who would host me, even though I never asked or even assumed anyone would. I would be sent to someone’s house or to a local madrasa (Islamic boarding school).
Some of them were suspicious of me. With my silver camera and military walking boots, some people thought I was a Russian spy. They wanted to see my ID, see the pictures I had taken, and review rigorously my social media accounts. They watched me closely when I ate, when I talked and when I prayed.
Others were most gracious and welcoming. They were deeply intrigued and curious about where I had come from and what I had seen. They wanted to learn English (although I wanted to learn Turkish for the road ahead) They wanted to make sure I was watered and fed. They were gracious and gentle and welcomed me as if I was family.
More interestingly, there were a few who did not care whether or not I was there. These men usually played the role of the Imam or the eldest elder of the community. These men said little but somehow were a rock in the community everyone pivoted around. They seemed to be a judge and the wisest members of the group.
In all of the encounters, I abstracted a common pattern among the men within the community. This pattern is crucial not only to the survival and renewal of the community but also to the structure of its law and order. Every father, son, nephew, cousin and brother I spoke with embodied one of three characters within the community. By the time I had left the fourth village, I understood this. By identifying each of these characters in each person I met, I was able to navigate the complex social landscape when entering any tightly bound community as a stranger and as a traveller.
When walking as a stranger in a foreign territory, identifying these characters is vital for your experience and understanding. You will receive hospitality. You will encounter hostility. What is paramount to each encounter is that you understand the unwritten laws and customs and know how each individual plays within that community.
Mahmut Fincan Cami Madrasa, Birecik
The Prince
He will eagerly gravitate and welcome you with open arms. He will break bread and share his food. He will give you more in your bowl than he in his. He will be curious about you: your country, your language, your beliefs, and your story. He will be a friend and an ally to have. Although he is kind, he is still slightly naive: he has a lot to learn before he can contend in any sense of leadership. He is an innovator and has many dreams and is extremely creative.
The Uncle
He will be the first sign of suspicion. He will rule the place with an iron fist. His leadership is already assumed by all and he insists that you recognise it He will dismiss all that you say. He will ask you questions to stump you and trip you up. He will hammer you until you fail. He wants you to reveal just how weak and imperfect you are. He is a judge of the community. He discriminates harshly. He looks at you closely. He watches your every move. He makes it clear to you that you are a stranger, and you are not part of this group. Although the Uncle embodies a tyrant, he remains the most competent leader during a time of crisis, whom people seek to control and management from.
The King
He is the old counsel. He is the law. He is the judge. He is mercy and justice. He is unbiased. He is not moved by fear and not pushed by stress. He cares not who you are. He seeks nothing. He knows everything. He is the rock. He is the roof over one's head and the distant ceiling which cannot be touched. He is unmovable. He is unchallenged. The King is usually much older than the Prince and the Uncle and is unaware and detached from the present culture.
Conclusion
Excerpt from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, with Horus, Osiris, Isis, and Nephthys (Image: Book of the Dead of Hunefer/The British Museum)
Each of these characters embodies a story. After developing this idea independently along the D400 road in Turkey, I later discovered that this story had already been told. The oldest known story is fundamental to the structure of the Pharaoh of Ancient Egypt. Namely, the Egyptian gods of Horus, Seth and Osiris. Where Osiris, the distant and old king, is overthrown by his jealous and ruthless brother Seth. Horus, the young prince, for most of the story is a youngling, dependent on his mother but is the rightful heir to the throne and eventually gains enough strength and skill to contend against the tyranny of Seth. The Pharaoh is a symbolic representation of the contest between the youthful renewal of the Prince, and the unchanged tyranny of the Uncle, amidst the broken and scattered laws of the King.
I admire Turkey and how each community embodied this structure when faced with an element of uncertainty i.e. the appearance of myself as a stranger. It’s an old structure, routed in the ancient times of our ancestors. Turkey is an old nation, routed in Islam and is the remnant of the Ottoman Empire. Turkey, in many ways, can also be on the verge of tyrannical control.
Yet, Turkey is also a young country with a creative and youthful population. Many of the youth I met felt disregarded and detached from the old Turkey and are wishing for change. However, like everyone, we have a lot to learn before we can contend with Seth.