Iftar and Hugs

*Please excuse the white highlighting in this post.  I can't remove it.  I think there is a possible glitch in Blogger today. 

Iftar means to break fast during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan.  The iftar meal comes in the evening after an entire day of fasting. I am a Christian who gets invited to iftars, and it makes me feel special and a part of something bigger than myself, a community.  I'm a Christian who feels much closer to Muslims than I do to most American Christians.  I have gone to a number of iftars both here at home and in Turkey.  Last year I went to two; one was at a friends' home and the other at the city's mosque.  This year because so many of the Turkish people I know are gone and others I never developed a friendship with because they did not move regularly in the circle I was in, I didn't expect to be invited anywhere. My Turkish friend Ebru never gives up on me.  

Even though we have disagreements, Ebru will always call when I least expect it.  She has one more year here to work on her doctorate in math education and then she will go back to Turkey. In the past she has encouraged me to live in Turkey in what she says is her favorite town, Balıkesir.  She lives in Istanbul, but for some reason she says she just adores Balıkesir and dreams of living there. It so happens that one of her new roommates is from that city.  The other is from Aydın.

So yesterday the telephone rang not long after me and mom had come home from shopping. The shopping never ends it seems. The chief activity of people in this place is shopping.  I believe some of the shabbily dressed couples I see at Walmart even go out on dates down there. Makes sense because it would mesh very well with America's love for tackiness and buying things.  Well, the phone rang and automatically I thought it was the usual annoying recordings or an opinion survey.  The caller ID said private number, so I refused to answer. About an hour later the phone rang and it was private number again.  I thought what the devil and decided to pick up the phone and put this possible pesky telemarketer in his or her place for calling twice in one day.  When I answered it was Ebru, and she gave me an impromptu invitation to come over to break the fast with her and her two roommates.  She said she knew the invitation was at the last minute but she hoped I would agree to come.  I immediately said yes.  I was feeling very dejected, thrown away, and lonely.  My only concern was that I might have a bit of a hard time finding her new apartment.  She tried to give me directions while I was on Google Maps.  Once I could make sense of things, I felt slightly confident that I could locate her home fairly easily because when I left it would still be daylight.  

I found Ebru's house after making one mistake, driving on pass the first road that ultimately leads to the complex where her townhouse is located.  Afraid that I might miss the turn into the complex, she came walking out to the road to meet me.  

I had an enjoyable evening just us four ladies.  I was the eldest, and Ebru's roommates are young. They are presently taking English courses to improve their language skills.  They can speak some English and told me that they could understand me well.  Their need is to become more confident in speaking.  One of them, Hacer (hope I spelled it right)  made to hug and kiss me, but then withdrew shyly, apologetically saying she was so used to hugging and kissing someone because of her culture.  I told her it was okay, and that I always do the Turkish greeting since I've been around Turks for years.  I went up to her and we embraced. I told mom about this today, and she said that black people once hugged each other on greeting, but the more we integrated into white culture, we lost our warmth.  

Ebru's roommates are not letting go of their Turkish accouterments.  They've brought various utensils from Turkey: large tulip shaped tea glasses, the tiny cups for Turkish coffee, and the small pot to make the coffee in called a cezve.  Since iftar started at 8:45 last night we finished our meal and dessert late.  I was offered Turkish coffee, but I regretfully refused because I was afraid the caffeine might keep me awake.  I love Turkish coffee.  

Before I left their home last night I asked if Hacer's name is the same as the name of the prophet Ibrahim's wife. In the Bible Ibrahim is God's friend Abraham.  I was told yes, it is the same.  Then I told them the English name Hagar.  I always love it when there's a piece of history to be found in unexpected places.  Also at their door hung a small wall hanging with quotes from the poet Rumi or as the Turks call him, Mevlana.  The hanging had a picture of the poet and a whirling dervish weaved into it.  The blue and white amulet for the evil eye, the nazar boncuğu,  was attached hanging below.  I was enchanted because I love Rumi's poetry.  I could recognize some words in Turkish, but I could not comprehend a lot of them. Without being asked, Ebru translated them all into English.  

11 PM came too fast for me.  I wanted to stay longer, but I decided to leave since I was concerned I might lose my way back home due to the fact that my friend's apartment complex is far out in the woods.  She says they often see deer and armadillos out there.  Yesterday morning two deer even appeared in my neighborhood.  Mom saw them in the field across the road.  They made as if they would come on this side, but when one of our neighbors drove out they fled.  

Iftar and hugs lifted my spirits somewhat last night.  I hugged Ebru and both of her two roommates in the Turkish manner before I walked out the door last night.  Sometimes it's the little things that provide hope even for someone like me who is often afraid to hope too much.