New #Turkish students in our September 2013 classes

Rumi Forum has enrolled 50+ studemts in its current season of Turkish courses. Levels 1-5.

Turkish Classes starting in April 2013 - ENROL NOW #DC

Email Turkish@rumiforum.org for details

See also testimonials from previous students:
http://learnturkishdc.blogspot.com/2011/11/testimonials-from-past-students.html

Hagia Sophia Museum's latest addition: a sundial

The new sundial placed in the gardens at Hagia Sophia was engraved in glass by archaeologist Ahmet Demirtaş. (Photo: Today's Zaman, Turgut Engin)

13 January 2013 /SEVİNÇ ÖZARSLAN, İSTANBUL

Setting aside all the heated debates over whether or not Hagia Sophia ought to be opened for prayers, what sort of reverberations will be caused by other changes to this ancient site?

A sundial that has been painstakingly designed over the past year by İstanbul Technical University Professors Atilla Bir and Burak Barutçu as well as İstanbul University Professor Mustafa Kaçar was recently installed in Hagia Sophia's garden.

While it remains unclear whether the installation of a sun dial in the museum's garden will spark any serious controversy, any complaints that might be voiced have already been answered, in a sense, by these words from electrical engineer Professor Bir: “I am neither religious, nor am I a historian. Mathematics, however, does attract my attention and sundials are based on mathematics. Sundials not only meet daily needs, they can also be used to see the hours for namaz [prayer]. We are following up on the placement of sundials not only in the garden of Hagia Sophia but in the courtyards of other mosques as well. I would like to see people who visit mosques reintroduced to sundial culture. This was a culture that persisted until the 19th century.” 

Muvakkithaneler, or sun rooms, made an important contribution in Ottoman times. These were sites, generally built right next to the mosque, where the motion of the sun could be tracked to determine the time for prayer. These special rooms were always run by qualified individuals who had received training in a madrassah, who had passed special palace astronomy tests and who knew much about astronomy and mathematics in general. Though the muvakkithane of the Hagia Sophia Museum is now being used as an administrative building, it is slated to open soon as a museum exhibit of this original tradition. When we asked Bir where the idea first came from to put a sundial in the Hagia Sophia gardens, he told us about the famous Italian architect Gaspare Trajano Fossati, who took on the restoration of Hagia Sophia that occurred in the 1800s, as well as many other projects.

Fossati's task

Hagia Sophia had been damaged by earthquakes before Fossati's restoration efforts and when the main project was completed, Fossati gave himself another task, noting, “All of these mosques have muvakkithane, let's do the same for Hagia Sophia.” Saying this, the famous architect designed an octagonal muvakkithane that faces the exit gates. During the early years of the republic, however, the building was taken over and converted for other purposes, its contents emptied out and divided among other museums. Other mosques' muvakkithaneler were to face the same fate.

The new sundial placed in the gardens at Hagia Sophia was engraved in glass by archaeologist Ahmet Demirtaş. The production, design and calculations involved in the creation and completion of this sundial had all three professors -- Barutçu, Bir and Kaçar -- involved from start to finish.

During the Ottoman era, clocks were designed in two ways, vertically and horizontally. Vertical sundials were engraved in stone walls and horizontal ones were placed on pedestals. In designing Hagia Sophia's sundial, trends and styles from past eras were kept in mind, although it is completely new. Barutçu explains: “Most likely, Hagia Sophia had a horizontal sundial that belonged to its muvakkithane. That type of a pedestal was found, but the lines on it are no longer clear. In other words, it has basically disappeared. We can't do anything to alter the original stone that had been engraved, since it belongs to the museum, so instead we decided to place an engraved glass face over it that will illustrate its function. We used the horizontal sundial at Topkapı for the basis of the design.”

Fatih Mosque's sundial is mistaken

Fatih Mosque's long restoration was completed one year ago and included a sundial that stands at its western entrance. This sundial was cleaned up and the rods that create the sun's shadows were replaced, since they had broken. But unfortunately, the sundial does not show the proper time. There were some miscalculations made during the restoration, says Bir. Aware that a mistake had been made, the careful Professor Bir told the heads of the restoration project about the error but was unable to convince anyone that it should be fixed. Bir and Barutçu are both members of a team formed to see the reintroduction of sundials into mosque courtyards and gardens around Turkey. The two professors are responsible for three such sundials envisioned for the gardens of the Beyazıt Mosque, but Bir warns: “I am still very angry with the restorers. If they don't fix the mistake at Fatih Mosque, I will not be drawing anything up for Beyazıt.

SOURCE: http://todayszaman.com/news-303911-hagia-sophia-museums-latest-addition-a-sundial.html

Ottoman History Podcast: Turning listeners into history buffs, one download at a time

24 January 2013 / CLARE BUSCH, İSTANBUL

After most expats visit Hagia Sophia and Topkapı Palace, they begin to develop an interest in Ottoman history. Some satisfy their curiosity through the steamy kitsch of “Muhteşem Yüzyıl,” a weekly soap opera that has come under fire from Prime Minister Recep Tayyıp Erdoğan for distorting Süleyman the Magnificent's life. But thanks to a joint creation by Georgetown University Ph.D. student Chris Gratien and current İstanbul Bahçeşehir University history professor Emrah Safa Gürkan, there is an interesting, in-depth and free way to learn more about Ottoman history.

Speaking with Gratien, I learned about the creation and development of the “Ottoman History Podcast,” a weekly podcast download available for free from the iTunes Store. The two men discussed working together while Gürkan was a post-doctorate student at Georgetown. They knew they wanted to do something on the Internet related to Ottoman history but initially had no set plans. At the time Gratien had been listening to other podcasts and noticed the dearth of ones focusing on the Ottoman Empire. As simple as that, the two began work collaborating on a podcast in the spring of 2011. Now, nearing their second year, the weekly podcast has featured topics ranging from a three-part series on malaria in the Ottoman Empire to slavery in the Mediterranean.

The first topics were ones that Gratien and Gürkan had studied and were therefore able to bring a detailed perspective to. They began by discussing early modern Mediterranean history and people who were able to flit between Muslim and Christian worlds. When asked about the specialized nature of the podcasts, Gratien said, “We didn't necessarily go out of our way to choose a topic; we just went with ones that we and the guests found interesting.”

Despite creating the podcasts without a set list of topics or disciplines to cover, it is clear that they aren't trying to lay out a clear, historical narrative for the entirety of the Ottoman Empire. Some of the initial criticisms from podcast listeners were the lack of timelines or development narratives, but Gratien and Gürkan eschewed traditional narratives to focus on what Gratien describes as “emerging areas of study… that people are newly investigating.”

Recruiting guests for the show

After covering their own fields of study, Gratien and Gürkan moved on to professors and fellow students at Georgetown University to draw on their expertise. In addition to engaging with the community at Georgetown, the two began to recruit new guests through academic conferences and contacts. Gratien describes the process of reaching out to new guests as informal: “Wherever we go, whomever we meet, we propose the idea [of being a guest on the show]. It's mostly by personal connections.”

Taking a look at the podcast's website is a good primer for what to expect. Each podcast's title is highly specific and accompanied by historic documents. For example, in episode 82, titled “Zanzibar: Imperial visions and Ottoman connections,” the guest host was Jeffery Dyer, a Ph.D. candidate at Boston College. Three historic photos of Zanzibar and a selected bibliography accompany the post, which includes a short description of the podcast. One of the best features of the podcast is its ability to pique your interest in unusual topics and at the same time, provide suggestions for further reading. Any dabbler in Ottoman history will appreciate way the podcasters facilitate listeners' continued research.

At the end of last year, Gratien and Gürkan attempted to put together a “Best of 2012” list, but found it difficult to choose between the podcasts. When asked about his personal favorites, Gratien listed episode 81, “Osman Hamdi Bey and the Journey of an Ottoman Painting” with guest Emily Neumeier, episode 86, “Indian Soldiers and POWs in the Ottoman Empire during WWI” with guests Vedica Kant and Robert Upton, and episode 70, “Ecology and Empire in Ottoman Egypt” with guest Alan Mikhail.

While listening to the podcasts, not only is the level of expertise apparent, but so is the amount of work that goes into each one. Gratien estimates that each episode takes about five to 10 hours, with “the biggest variable being how long the recording is.” Recording may take from only 30 minutes to an hour, but then Gratien begins editing the audio. Hopefully in coming months, the Ottoman History Podcast will expand to include new hosts in different locations. When asked about the challenge of recording in different locations, Gratien emphasizes the mobile nature of the podcast, saying: “I have my own recording equipment. … We just go to the guests.” In fact, they have already recorded in 50 locations.

Podcasts in Turkish

A new feature of the podcasts is episodes recorded entirely in Turkish. Gürkan functions as the host for these episodes, which came about after seeing the large number of Facebook fans of the podcast who are Turkish speakers. So far there have only been three episodes produced in Turkish, but according to Gratien, the new format has been “very well received” and there are definitely more coming soon.

Although the existing partnership between Gratien and Gürkan will hopefully expand to include different scholars, the creators have no intention of changing the two key pillars of the podcast: its collaborative nature and free access. Gratien's closing remark stressed that the podcast is “completely non-profit and not intended to make money.”

---

Tools for exploring Ottoman history

Almost all the podcasts are available for free from the podcast section of the iTunes Store and from the official Ottoman History Podcast website, www.ottomanhistorypodcast.com, where you can also find selected bibliographies and scans of historic documents.

SOURCE: http://todayszaman.com/news-305007-ottoman-history-podcast-turning-listeners-into-history-buffs-one-download-at-a-time.html

NEW enrollments starting early April 2013

NEW enrollments starting early April 2013 for next round of classes.

Don't miss out. If interested please contact turkish@rumiforum.org

CHARLOTTE MCPHERSON c.mcpherson@todayszaman.com

Local transport in all shapes and sizes

Many visitors to İstanbul are impressed with the different options for local transport, but not with the overcrowding they may experience.

Minibus travel is straightforward. There is a set minibus route. The difference between a bus and minibus is that the latter you can hail and ride; the minibus does not have defined stops, so you can hop on and off where you like along the route. The first time you ride a minibus you may wonder what is going on as the people behind you say something and pass money through you to the front. On a minibus you pay by passing your fare up the row of passengers. Your change will dutifully come back to you from the driver in the same way. Minibus drivers are experts at multi-tasking; you will be amazed at their ability to drive, smoke, take your fare, give change, talk on the phone and fiddle with the radio all at once, while still having a free hand to honk the horn. Be prepared for a bumpy ride. Letting the driver know where you want to get off is simple. When it comes time for you to disembark all you need to do is say, loudly enough for the driver to hear you, “İnecek var” (I want to get off). But beware! Don’t get confused like some have and say, “İnek var” (There is a cow). Dolmuş is another way to get around the city. A dolmuş is a special shared taxi. It has a fixed route that it follows, and it departs once full. In fact, the word “dolmuş” literally means “full.” These are a little more expensive than a minibus, but usually quicker. You can say the above phrase whenever you would like to stop. The ferry can be a pleasant way to travel, if you can get a seat. The ferry is a common mode of transport for crossing the Bosporus in İstanbul, or crossing the bay in İzmir. Entry to the ferry station is by a turnstile; for this you can use an “akbil” digital transit pass or buy a token called a “jeton” from a booth at the entrance to the ferry station. When the ferry docks and passengers have disembarked the gate is opened and you can walk onto the quay to board the ferry. Be careful when boarding. Experienced ferry travelers may jump the gap between the quay and the boat, but it is best to use the gangplank, even though this is usually just a narrow plank of wood. Disembarking is similar; many Turks take their lives in their hands and leap onto the quay, sometimes even before the captain has finished his maneuvers. We recommend you obey the signs directing you not to disembark until the ship has berthed. The water is definitely not inviting, even on a hot sunny day! İstanbul has a network of seabuses (catamaran fast ferries) linking the two shores of the Bosporus and the coast of the Marmara Sea. These run less frequently than the Turkish Maritime Lines ferries, and are more expensive, but the ride is quicker, seating is more luxurious and boarding and disembarking are definitely safer. Taxis are everywhere. It is best to use licensed taxis rather than private ones. In major cities such as İstanbul all official taxis are yellow and have a number plate beginning with the letter T. If you know where the taxi “durak” (stand) is it is best to find a taxi there, or have the receptionist at your office, hotel or restaurant call a taxi for you. If your group consists of more than two people and is mixed gender try to arrange it so that women sit in the back and a man in the front seat. All taxis should have a “saat” (meter). There are two tariffs: “gündüz” for daytime and “gece” for night, which means midnight to 6 a.m. A light on the meter shows which tariff is being charged, but the taxi driver is able to switch between them when he sees you get in. Check that the right light is lit up. You pay by distance and by time, so the meter will tick over if you are stuck in traffic (common in big cities). If you know the route you’d like to take you can tell the taxi driver; otherwise he may choose a longer route. Remember these two things: Face saving is an important Turkish trait. If a taxi driver is lost he may not want to admit this and ask a passerby (even if he did, he could get the wrong directions, as the passerby would not want to admit to not knowing, either). The second is that taxi drivers love to talk. Note: Charlotte McPherson is the author of “Culture Smart: Turkey” 2005. Please keep your questions and observations coming: I want to ensure this column is a help to you, Today’s Zaman’s readers. Email: c.mcpherson@todayszaman.com

Journey to the bottom of Turkey

Yüksekova, a district of Hakkari Province, is situated close to the border with Iran. (PHOTO: TODAY ZAMAN)

25 June 2012 / TAHIR ABBAS, HAKKARİ

Turkey is a huge land mass, with nearly 75 million people inhabiting a space that spans 2,000 kilometers wide.



With a view to explore this great country as much as I could, I had the fortunate opportunity to visit the town of Yüksekova, which is 200 kilometers further east from Van, and located in Hakkari province. It is effectively at the bottom end of Turkey, approximately 60 kilometers from both the Iranian and Iraqi borders.

Getting into Yüksekova after flying to Van proved a treacherous journey crossing mountainous terrain approximately 2,000 feet above sea level. Rivers flowed beside us as we drove on the rocky roads in earnest, finally arriving in the town of Yüksekova, which is on a flat plain surrounded by snow-capped mountains on all sides.

According to recent estimates, the town contains approximately 60,000 people and they are all of Kurdish ethnicity. In effect, I was deep inside “Turkey’s Kurdistan territory.”

I stayed with the family of a colleague from my university, İsmail Hakkı. A well-built man in his late 20s, he is a proud Kurd, as are all Kurds I have met in recent months here in İstanbul. I was afforded the warmth, peace and nobleness of his most generous family, including his five brothers, who range in age between the mid-20s and 40. Their mother and father were kind and gave me the freedom of their home as if I were one of their sons. Steeped in traditional Kurdish and Sunni-Hanafi culture, we ate together on the floor, seated on elegant kilims and cushions. The food I consumed was lavishly prepared by the matriarch and her daughters-in-law.

We all ate together, young and old, and by the third night I had them all trying to speak a little English, while I continued to embarrass myself with what little Turkish and Kurdish I so far amassed. What was comforting was the way in which Kurdish and Urdu have so many common phrases and terms. We drew comfort in trading interchangeable Kurdish and Urdu phrases while I continued to emphasize the culture of my parents and how the ways of my hosts were not too dissimilar to them.

Feeling at home
I sometimes regard myself culturally imperialized, disconnected from my heritage through the migration of my parents to England in the 1950s and early 1960s, and now far removed from the place of my birth, the city of Birmingham. Presently living in a land with its own array of peoples and cultures, unified under the banner of a modern secular republic, all the while keeping the deeply rooted cultural traditions of old alive behind the facade of tall residential buildings, I find myself an “alien.” In Yüksekova, I felt at home, or the nearest thing to it, past or present, real or imagined.

There was one embarrassing moment on the third night, however. In Britain, when eating a meal together, it is normally customary to begin when the host begins and to leave the table only when the host decides to. I realized that here in Yüksekova, while we all began to eat together, it is the host who does not get up until the guest decides to. Not realizing this, I waited for many minutes for the mother and father to get up so that I could, too. But they did not. It dawned on me that they were waiting for me to get up, and I duly did in the end but not until some cajoling from İsmail, who asked as he walked across the room, “Are you still eating?” I had in fact been waiting to get up for many minutes, but I did not realize my mistake. Sometimes I feel that as a BBCD (“British-born confused desi”) I do not belong anywhere. While this helps to keep a critical edge when I am looking at the world around me, it is often a lonely place.

The highlight of the three-day trip was “the picnic.” We piled into three cars, driving first to the ancestral village of the Hakkı family, some 50 kilometers away. A brand new family house, only months away from completion, is situated at the corner of the village, surrounded by rolling fields and mountains in the distance. The house will have everything necessary for life there, even wireless Internet. We then drove further on to a place described as “a garden” by İsmail. When we arrived to a space that had nothing but wild growth to show for it at first, I discovered an orchard, with trees and plants of fruit of every variety and hue. A stream flowed alongside, gently humming in the background at all times. I followed the folk deeper into “the garden” to discover strawberries and cherries so vivid in color and so succulent in taste. I last recall picking fruit from a tree and eating it as I did so in the early 1980s, when all the rage for families in England was to visit places such as Evesham to “pick your own.”

Lunch was eventually served, consisting of the meat of two goats slain earlier that morning. We ate it with glee, washing it down with lashings of tea. As the boys and I lounged around, allowing the food to digest, we decided to go swimming in the river. We walked to a point where it was felt safe to do so, stripped down accordingly and took a collective plunge into the cool water that was fresh and fast as the streams from higher up formed a rapid flow below. It was a lot of fun indeed, and we enjoyed those moments of trying to stay standing as the water splashing flights ensued.

Returning to the flock, and after some further lounging around, we decided to climb the nearest mountain. And we did. I struggled a little as the air was light and I could feel how unfit I had become living the sedentary life of an İstanbulite. We got to a position called Govend Rock, at which point we paused and took in the amazing scenery and looked down at the garden, which appeared now more as a forest from high above. The brothers decided to engage in an impromptu dance. Govend Rock means dancing rock. I noted brotherly love unsurpassed as I looked on.

Getting down was far quicker if not more eventful. Using the groove between two faces of the mountain side, where sand and small stones had collected, I was running and sliding down at the same time. With my trendy shoes full of sand and small stones, we returned to the family to be greeted with great amusement that I had actually come back unscathed. As the unfit alien foreigner, all I could do was to empty the sand and stones from my shoes to emphasize my bravery. They were not impressed.

The next day I had the opportunity to attend a Kurdish wedding. Women, who are not always seen on the streets in great numbers, were dressed in long dresses with such amazing shades of purple, green and blue. Gold was adorned around their necks and wrists, and they sat with confidence and poise. It was not the image I had of the cowering Kurdish woman at the hands of the dominant male. While women often remain in the domestic sphere, they have full authority of their domains while maintaining a hold on all family relations. When it was time for the collective dance, which included all, men and women, young and old, I was encouraged to join in. It was at this moment it was confirmed that I indeed have two left feet as I found it hard to coordinate what seemed an easy routine as an onlooker. The pressure of performance took its toll and I quickly assumed the guise of the foolish outsider who wanted to fit in and failed but should at least be given some credit for trying.

At times I was with other people in various new settings that I found myself in when accompanying members of the family, after pleasantries were exchanged between us through İsmail, who acted as translator, and after they asked where I was from and what I was doing in their town, the inevitable question came. What did I think about the “Kurdish issue”? Of course, I am still learning more about this “issue” myself and so I turned the question back on them. Various responses came back, including the idea that discussions are better than they have ever been and that it is possible to be optimistic at some level and that within a year a solution could be had. Others pointed the finger at the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) itself and said that they are the problem per se. Some were of the view that no solution could ever be achieved. For them, the status quo will remain, as it has since the emergence of the secular Turkish state.

There was no overwhelming consensus. However, what is clear is that the local population had a local Kurdish leadership in place. It certainly felt to me that the Kurds were in charge of their local affairs. Even the Turkish police only roamed the streets in bulletproof machine gun-loaded vehicles. Some areas of the town were described as no-go areas for the police.
My own experience of the wonderful family I stayed with was a sense of charm and warmth. I ate fruit from trees, climbed a mountain to get to a rock where a dance ensued and I swam in a river (or rather floated downstream most of the time). I also attended a wedding where I danced with other guests at the wedding party, albeit with two left feet. Time has another dimension for people in Yüksekova, who are rich in tradition and culture, humble and serene.

While I thoroughly enjoyed so much of my time, I had the feeling that things were not calm. Sadly, just over a day I left the town to return to İstanbul, in the Dağlıca area of Hakkari province, 50 kilometers southwest of Yüksekova, near the Iraqi border, PKK members and Turkish soldiers exchanged gunfire, leaving 26 dead, with casualties on both sides. It was one of the fiercest exchanges between these opposing groups in recent years. It has raised further alarm bells among the political establishment of Turkey. But what remains true is that the spirit of the people in deep Kurdish territory will not be unabated. Theirs is a world far removed from high political drama. Their land is in their blood and it pumps through their collective veins with vigor, and in spite of any attempts to make them think or believe anything else.