“Every Turk is born a soldier”
This is a well known saying in Turkey however every asker (soldier) needs a little training and it is compulsory for every Turkish male between the ages of 20 and 41 to undergo military service in order to protect their homeland if deemed necessary.
The Turk’s nephew left for his training last November and yesterday returned home after completing his service to much fanfare and excitement. For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while would be well aware of the family feud between Vito’s wife and the rest of the family resulting in no one from the family being invited to the nephew’s farewell shindig last year.
I debated with myself whether I should go and enjoy the frivolities or whether I should stay hidden behind my blinds and extend the feud to a new family line. In the end I realised that ultimately I would only be doing myself an injustice festering alone in my living room as I am quite sure no one else would really care if I attended or not – plus I felt like going to a party.
It does not matter where you are in the village when one returns from asker because you can hear the horns and the drumming heralding his return at least 5 minutes before the glorious arrival.
As soon as he sets foot on the ground the dancing begins immediately. I find it quite strange that people just get crazy in the street but that is exactly what you do, young or old, throw out your arms and go for it in wild abandon.
The beating of the drum and the dancing went on for some time until it stopped for the next part of the party. The sacrifice.
I chose to take Daughter and her young cousins upstairs at this point as I just cannot fecking believe how many fecking sheep have been killed since I arrived. I get that it’s a religious thing but for feck’s sake – enough!
I think making the effort to attend yesterday was the right choice as last night, yet again, the shit hit the fan with The Turk losing it at the other two sisters in law that did not attend. I wasn’t there, thankfully, as I was still at the party however when I tried to make The Turk understand their feelings, particularly taking into consideration the recent death of his mother, he put their behaviour down to being a “female thing”. Internally I exploded at this point but again being the good Turkish housewife I chose to keep my mouth shut.
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