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CounterPunch
September
14 / 15, 2002
The View from
Istanbul
by Behzad Yaghmaian
The short walk through the Egyptian Spice Bazaar
is a stroll in heaven. It is a page in a book of history of the
East, and romance with the past. The magnificent colors of spices--blue,
red, yellow, green, purple, and white--resonate the beauty of
the grand paintings of Van Gogh and other masters of color. The
aroma of exotic spices intoxicates the senses of the passers
by, wets their appetite, and prepares them for the multitudes
of inviting sweets and delights so invitingly laid next to each
other on large and small trays.
I walked through the bazaar on September
11, 2002.
Hungry from the walk, I treated myself
to what, by now, had become my vegetarian staple in Istanbul--boiled
spinach toped with yogurt. I completed my meal with a glass of
delicious Turkish tea, paid the bill--five million liras--and
strolled towards the historic Sultanahmet.
Negotiating my way through the crowded
sidewalks, my eyes landed on an old man solemnly keeping company
a lone scale--his sole capital perhaps--hoping for a passer by
to take him out of the boredom of his solitude. I walked towards
the man without thinking. Noticing me approaching him, the old
man's face brightened up, radiated with joy, and pulled me towards
the scale with magnetic strength. He welcomed me with a smile
that stayed with us till we departed and I left him behind.
I stepped on the scale, took a notice
of the reading, and gave the old man a one-million-lira note--a
bit more than 50 cents. The old man's body  and hands bent and moved in every form
and direction to show me his gratitude. So much joy, for a lousy
50 cents! I stood before him, wishing to embrace his shrunk body,
touch his wrinkled face, and apologize to him for being more
fortunate than him, and for spending many more million liras
every day. But, I did not do so. I simply smiled back.
Showing my camera to the old man, I asked
if he would allow me to photograph him. Sitting on his stool,
he put his hands together, rested them on his chest, and bowed
to me in a kind gesture of acceptance. With a smile bordering
a loud laughter, he turned towards me. His unshaved and wrinkled
face locked inside my lens; he posed for the first shot. I released
the shutter. The camera swallowed the image of the old man's
face. I was satisfied. He had now become a part of my registered
memory. I asked him to move his face for a profile shot. He did
so still smiling. I took my second and third shots.
Moving back to his side, I sat next to
the old man on the ground. Trying to show him my appreciation
of his kindness, I took words out of my nearly empty arsenal
of Turkish vocabulary. I rambled Merhaba, Mashallah, Teshekkur,
and a few other words I could recount in Turkish. Holding my
hands, he taught me new words. Like a student following his master,
I repeated after him, one word at a time, carefully, and accurately.
And using body language and words, the old man asked for my nationality.
That is how I understood his words. "Iran," I replied.
"Iran," he repeated with excitement, immediately continuing
with "Reza Shah." I repeated "Reza Shah!"
As if testing the old man's knowledge of Iran, I cried "Khomeini."
He said "Khomeni" and laughed, overjoyed for having
found a way to connect with my history and me.
I packed my camera, shook the old man's
hand and prepared to leave. Still glowing with happiness, he
said his last words to me: "Iran, Turk, Arkadash."
I left, repeating to myself: "Iranians and Turks are friends."
Behzad Yaghmaian
is the author of Social
Change in Iran: an eyewitness account of Dissent, Defiance and
a New Movement for Human Rights (SUNY PRESS, 2002).
He can be reached at: behzad_yaghmaian@hotmail.com
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September
12, 2002
Paul de Rooij
A Glossary
of Occupation
James C.
Faris
Riefenstahl
at 100:
The Fascist Aesthetic
Gary Leupp
Presidential
Honesty on Iraq
Tarif Abboushi
A Conversation
with My Arab-American Self
Ron Jacobs
Shelter
from the Storm
Rick Giombetti
Paxil
and Addiction
Krystal Kyer
From NAFTA
to CAFTA
Another Rotten Trade Deal
John Jonik
Overcome
in Philly
September
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Anis Shivani
How to
Survive in Ashcroft's America
Pierre Tristam
Abusing
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David Krieger
Resisting
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Jerre Skog
9/11 One
Year Later:
Remember the Others, Too
Dave Marsh
Illegal
Music?
A Sampler's Delight
Norm Dixon
How the
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Bill Christison
A
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Alexander
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The
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Susan Davis
Mr. Ashcroft's
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Bruce Jackson
When
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David Krieger
Looking
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Mike Leon
Bush and War
Peter Linebaugh
Levellers
and 9/11
William McDougal
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That's Entertainment!
Riad Z. Abdelkarim
and Jason Erb
How American Muslims Really Responded
to 9/11
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Jeffrey St.
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Ben Tripp
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