London impressions

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Here is a scene from Istanbul s Ataturk Airport, just as it played out before my eyes as I was on my way to London. Two European journalists had just landed at the airport. Right in front of them is a woman, swathed from head to toe in black covering. Next to her is a child. The only part of the woman s body that is visible are her eyes; her face is covered, and she wears black gloves on her hands. The journalists immediately assume the woman is Turkish and launch into a discussion amongst themselves on the state of Turkish women. Walking behind them, I listen in on their conversation. And while this is happening, the woman in the black covering in front of us begins to speak to her child. But not in Turkish; she was speaking in English, and not just that, but with a Cockney accent! And so it turned out that this woman covered in black was not only not Turkish, but she had been born and raised in London and was just in Istanbul for a vacation. Her Western interpretation of Islam was much stricter than most Eastern interpretations. The European journalists were left dumbfounded.

  Here is a scene from Istanbul s Ataturk Airport, just as it played out before my eyes as I was on my way to London. Two European journalists had just landed at the airport. Right in front of them is a woman, swathed from head to toe in black covering. Next to her is a child. The only part of the woman s body that is visible are her eyes; her face is covered, and she wears black gloves on her hands. The journalists immediately assume the woman is Turkish and launch into a discussion amongst themselves on the state of Turkish women. Walking behind them, I listen in on their conversation. And while this is happening, the woman in the black covering in front of us begins to speak to her child. But not in Turkish; she was speaking in English, and not just that, but with a Cockney accent! And so it turned out that this woman covered in black was not only not Turkish, but she had been born and raised in London and was just in Istanbul for a vacation. Her Western interpretation of Islam was much stricter than most Eastern interpretations. The European journalists were left dumbfounded.

  There is not actually much research that has been carried out on Turks who are living in England. But the truth is, whether through the British press or academic and intellectual meetings I attend, I have come to make many of my own observations on the Turks who make this their home. Some British politicians use their own generalizations about the Turks living here and employ them in their own political aims. I often hear statements like, "The Turks in London have become ghettoized," or, "The Turks in England are slow to pick up English." When I can t stand it anymore, I give in and ask, "What research are you basing this on?" The answer is never clear.

  The odd thing is, those who talk about the Turks are generally the same people who know very little about the Turks. I guess it s easier just to make generalizations.

  There is a bit of research floating about, though. But most of it is based on the uneducated and/or lower economic classes of Turks. I ask my academic friends the reason for this, and this is what I hear: "Whenever a British researcher wants to do a study on Turks here, the first place he or she goes to is the Turkish ghetto of Harringay. They make their observations there and it is reflected in their results. When, of course, the truth is that there are Turks living all over London, not just in the ghetto. The Turks living in the ghetto are generally from the poorer, more unworldly, factions of their countrymen. Whereas those outside the ghetto live anywhere, from middle class neighborhoods to high-rent districts to even out in the countryside. But these groups never get studied by the researchers. There is just no research that reflects this variety."

  I walk around in Harringay. You know, that part of London where all the green grocers are Turkish, where the white cheese is all imported from Turkey, and where the doner kebab sellers are more than you can count. Barbers, restaurants, "kahve" houses (a special cafe where Turkish males gather to drink tea, smoke, talk politics, etc.), newspaper sellers, corner stores: they are all run by Turks speaking Turkish in Harringay. It is a neighborhood where, if you had a problem, you could find a sympathetic ear without having to speak a word of English.

  An evening out with a group of British women at a Turkish restaurant in Harringay. They are speaking English, as is natural. They ask something about the menu, inquiring about the soup. The owner of the restaurant speaks not a word of English, though. He never learned any, so he calls over his daughter. She, a 13-year-old, speaks very good English as, after all, she was born, bred and educated here. Here is how the restaurant owner calls his daughter: "Oh daughter, could you come over here a second, some tourists have come to our restaurant, come tell me what they are asking for!" And so, the Turkish merchant who calls the Brits "tourists" in their own land lives comfortably on, without ever having to leave Harringay.