Refugees with degrees: Shawarmas and Staying in Turkey
News about Syrian refugees and Turkey make this country seem like just a springboard for Syrians going to Europe and North America.
The narrative seems to go like this: Syrian refugee comes to Turkey. Syrian wants to live the EU dream and be reunited with uncle/cousin/friend who is already there. Syrian waits for dangerous passage to Europe. Syrian pays a grand for a fake passport made in Aksaray. Syrian waits in secret, marginalized squalor in a hostile country with a fickle government and xenophobic people who want them out.
A trip to Aksaray for lunch tells a slightly different story.
My Syrian coworker Monty and I recently went for lunch in Little Syria, aka the Haseki area of Fatih (Aksaray, as most know it) to a place called Sahtin on Turgut Ozal Millet Caddesi, a 15 minute walk from the Yenikapi Marmaray station.
Monty, an ESL instructor at Istanbul Şehir University who has a master’s degree in TESOL from University of Aleppo, has been in Istanbul since 2012. He likes Sahtin because the food is “exactly the same” as what he ate in his hometown, Aleppo. Sahtin is spacious, with two floors facing the busy avenue, strips of colorful LED lighting in a ceiling with wood planks. A Syrian sports channel was tuned to the Syrian national team’s 2018 World Cup qualifier.
First came some tabouli (chopped parsley, mint, bulgur and tomatoes) some krem thoom, creamy garlic sauce (made with vegetable oil, garlic, lemon, egg whites and salt). There was also hummus. Ah, humus! The dish that is the most commonly misconceived as being replete in Turkey. Humus is not common here (except for in Hatay), and it’s usually not very good.
Before our food came, Monty talked briefly about his story. A participant in peaceful protests in 2012, he fled to Turkey when things got deadly. Turkey wasn’t a first choice.
“I was planning to go to the Gulf. They pay (English teachers) well there. When the revolution started, unfortunately, those people who call themselves ‘Arabs’ stopped giving visas,” he said. “Turkey was a last resort, but I have no regrets.”
His sister, who is married with children, settled in Istanbul 11 years ago. About a year ago, when he had delays renewing his passport, he considered slipping out of the country. But he doesn’t have a burning desire to leave in the near future.
“I look at my brother and cousins in Europe. I compare their situation and what they are in now. I’m thankful for what I have here. I have good friends. If I went to Europe, what kind of job would I have? Working at a restaurant?”
At that moment, the only restaurant on our minds served the folded heaven known as the Syrian chicken shawarma. It’s folded up flat pita with heaps of a soft, mild melted cheese, cuts of succulent döner chicken. The result was filling without being too heavy, not like you just had an air sandwich Turkish döner, but that you ate something to power you through an Istanbul day.
“This deliciousness could put all the döner places in Istanbul out of business!” I proclaimed, knowing full well that it’s too “foreign” for the Turkish fast food palate.
Afterwards, we continued to chat over some strong Syrian tea. Monty chatted to a waiter. He said fewer Syrians coming to the restaurant, a result of the exodus to Europe.
Would you stay in Turkey? I asked Monty. “Maybe if I met a Turkish girl,” he said with a laugh. For now, this highly educated English teacher has a decent life here — not without it’s troubles — and he isn’t climbing over people to be the next man out.
Update: Monty is dating a Dutch woman, but still plans to stay in Turkey for the time being.
A Very Merry Secular Syrian Refugee Christmas
Sixty five children with Santa hats laughing and singing Christmas carols, hollering with excitement after opening gifts, running around with glee. If you grew up in the U.S. or Europe, it’s easy to imagine such a mirthful scene at Christmas.
But this wasn’t at a school or family gathering in America, it was at a Syrian bookshop in Fatih.
“Happy Christmas hour with Syrian children,” as it was known on its Facebook invitation, attracted dozens of Syrian refugee children from across Istanbul — and at least 15 mostly expat volunteers who brought gifts, ornaments, face paint, puppets, and lots of enthusiasm.
Since opening six months ago, Pages bookstore cum cultural center has been written up in blogs and media outlets such as NPR. It’s located in an old, modest home two blocks from Chora church in Fatih’s Ayvansaray neighborhood. The ground floor has a cozy coffee bar, books for sale in Arabic, Turkish and English, as well as Syrian sweets.
But it was up two flights of steep wooden stairs where the thumping of little feet on could be heard on the floorboards.
Maisa, the event organizer, had the kids sing Jingle Bells in Arabic, and unrolled a giant paper for the kids to draw on. She had to ask volunteers to go downstairs on a couple occasions because it was so crowded. Surplus volunteers mingled, hoping they could get a chance to play with the kids, painting each others faces and making faces at children too young to participate. My wife carried a donation box around.
Among the volunteers was a Haitian university student on a Fulbright scholarship, a Venezuelan MBA student at Istanbul Ticaret U., an American English teacher who’s been here five years, a Taiwanese woman working on the third airport construction project.
“The situation in my country is not so good and I know how hard is to be an immigrant in countries without proper planning,” said David, the Venezuelan MBA student. “In past occasions unknown people have given me a hand without expecting back in return so every time I have an opportunity to payback I just do it.”
As I stood there talking to my peers instead of brightening a child’s day, I couldn’t help but have a bit of volunteer guilt. My wife noted that the children there came from more well to do families than those at the border where she worked with Doctors Without Borders, distributing not gifts, but essential non-food items.You feel good about the fact that you did something — anything — at the holiday season, but wonder if these are the people who need it most. How many of us volunteers people could donate a couple days or weeks to work in refugee camps in Kilis or Reyahnlı?
So..Christmas is actually a big thing in Syria
With all the news of large swaths of Syria falling to radical Islamic crazy people who are willing to kill not only Westerners, but Muslims who are even the slightest bit critical of them, it’s easy to forget the place that Christmas has (or had) in modern secular Syrian society, according to Samer, a former book publisher from Damascus and owner of Pages.
Why do a Christmas event? The vast majority of Syrian refugees are Muslim, I implored the slender, long-haired Samer.
“We celebrate it. This is what a lot of people in the world don’t know. Yes. I am Muslim, for example, but every year I make the tree at home. It’s a good idea to celebrate with the tree. in Syria, all people put up a tree. I take it as something good,” he replied. He noted that there are far more Christmas decorations on streets, businesses and homes in Syria than in Istanbul.
From Japan to Turkey, India to Malaysia, beyond the obvious capitalist motivations, it’s easy to see why malls and homes in non-Christian countries are adorned with the Christmas spirit. The broad inter-cultural appeal of Christmas/New Year’s transcends cultural barriers, and gift giving — it’s a proven fact that gift giving increases happiness — is something we all love to take part in.
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