Swimming Between the Sexes

Sunday, we went to a swimming pool just a short drive by taxi outside of town. It was a lot of fun, and much needed. Being able to immerse oneself in water makes everything so much better. But here, too, cultural differences abound.

In the first place, there were two distinct sections: a men’s section and a family section, which meant women and children could be there. We wanted the family section, which was a little bit more well-kept, and one of us was married with his wife, so we boldly strode forward into the family section. After a brief row with a security guard, who saw five men and one woman and didn’t like it, a local man came to our rescue and argued that we would not cause a problem, and that he should let us stay. So we did.

However, the male members of our group did make a few forays onto the other side, where we were stared at, asked to play basketball with, and more than a little discomfited by the absence of even a single female member of the species. However, the men’s side had all the best waterslides.

During the course of the day one topic of conversation that came up was how the reasoning behind such separation hinges on a supposedly Koranic teaching that men can’t control themselves, which is why women here are encouraged to wear full headscarfs and trenchcoats in 100-degree weather. If that’s the case, then why do these out-of-control men get all the privileges and status in society? It is, as our female companion put it, “rewarding bad behavior.”

If, as men, we are so incapable of controlling ourselves, why don’t you lock us away in the kitchen and home all day and let the more level-headed women deal with the business of life outside the home? The logic makes no sense to me. I say men sure are responsible for their behavior, and the heavier the consequences for behaving irresponsibly, the better!

Women ought to be treated with respect and dignity, in spite of whatever male urges we might have. Making them over up to the point of discomfort only hides the problem, it doesn’t deal with it. Only the heart-changing power of the Gospel can work to break the problem, and even then, it often takes quite a long time, as I can attest personally.

Getting Lost and Losing Money

Last Tuesday I went to Zirve’s business school, where I have been teaching Spanish to a woman in the export - import business. Usually there is a taxi for the people going home that the school pays for. However, there were so many people that particular night that we couldn’t all fit in the taxi. So, the alternative was to catch a ride home with a couple of the students, however, through a miscommunication and my lesson running a bit late, the students left with one other teacher, and without me.

The director apologized and gave me money for bus fare, which was a good thing, because I was quite thoroughly broke. So I waited and waited for the bus, but those going my way are rather infrequent from the nearest stop. The only one I saw that I thought would go that way was for Karataş, an area not too far from where I live - or so I thought! I took it, and after weaving its way through many parts of the city I didn’t know, I decided to ask someone.

“Üniversite çok uzak” were the oh-so-encouraging words I heard. “The University is very far.” Yikes! So, after a consultation that seemed to involve everyone on the dolmuş - that is, the small, tightly packed buses that travel just a bit faster than the larger public ones - they suggested I get off at a certain stop where I can then catch a bus going towards University. That is, I could catch a bus, if I weren’t so broke that I didn’t even have enough to cover bus fare!

So I walked. It was a bit of a hike, but not so far as I had feared, and after a block of walking in the direction the folks on the bus had pointed out, I found myself in familiar surroundings. By then, I was able to judge about how far I was, because I knew the area. It wasn’t close, but it could have been a lot worse.

The next day was even more frustrating. Because of not having any money, I was trying desperately to find ways of accessing the money in my American account. I have forgotten my PIN number because I haven’t used the card since I’ve been here. I realized I might be able to send money to myself through Western Union - I might get charged a fee, but that would be better than starving! So I tried it.

I left work early to send some mail, go to the Western Union at the bank, and go to the doctor. The doctor and the post office went off without a hitch, but getting my money didn’t happen. I sent $100 to myself, which was more than I really needed, but sending less didn’t seem worth it. I went to the bank and it turned out that I needed the number I hadn’t written down. So I came back home, got the number, and went back. Once I had the number, it turned out they couldn’t give me money because my middle name is on my passport, which I was using to verify my identity, and it wasn’t on the information about who would pick it up! So I tried to correct the problem by resending it, with the intent to call customer service and work out the details later. Resending resulted in a separate transaction, and did not allow me to add my middle name to the pick up details. So now I was out $200, and couldn’t pick it up.

So of course I called customer service, but they naturally suspected some kind of fraud and were evasive in answering my questions. Moreover, the only way I could make any changes to the transaction would be for them to call the phone number that they have on file, and speak to me. The phone number they have on file is my Mom’s number back home, where I’m obviously not! So they couldn’t add my middle name to allow me to pick it up, or cancel it without speaking to me at that number!

And now there is $200 sitting in Western Union with no possibility of being picked up. Quite frustrating, really, and nothing I can do about it, it seems.