Traditionally dressed women wait for a bus in Ankara.

by Dena Minato, MS '83

Two beheaded goats lying lifeless on the sidewalk greeted me that morning. This bloody sacrifice, explained the gentleman standing nearby, was offered in thanksgiving for the recovery of a sick friend.

The melodic sound of the muezzin calling devout Muslims to prayer at a nearby mosque drifted through an open window and lulled me to sleep that night.

As my first full day in Turkey faded away I knew that my family and I had entered another world. What I didn't know that night was how much that world and its people would impact my life forever.

The Turkish people embraced us, and their culture enchanted us from the moment we stepped off the airplane in Istanbul, the ancient city that links Europe with Asia. We had come to Turkey after I was chosen to participate in the Fulbright Teacher Exchange Program.

During the next 11 months we immersed ourselves in their world. We developed lifelong friendships, basked in unparalleled hospitality, savored delicious food, learned intimately about another culture and religion, gazed in awe at ancient ruins and marveled at the landscape.

"They welcomed us with warmth and affection beyond what we had experienced in many other places in the world..."

The Turkish world we entered was one where hospitality has been bred into its citizens. They welcomed us with warmth and affection beyond what we had experienced in many other places in the world, and we have visited nearly30 other countries.

We were not prepared for the hospitality shown to us by strangers everywhere we went. Taxi drivers, grocery clerks, carpet salesmen, waiters, neighborhood children--everyone treated us as honored guests.

One quiet Saturday afternoon we went out for a drive in the countryside and stopped to walk around a small lake. As we strolled by two Turkish families enjoying a picnic, they motioned us over to their table. Though they spoke little English and we spoke little Turkish, we soon were engaged in a lively conversation, and they were putting plates of grilled lamb and glasses of raki, the favorite liqueur of Turks, in front of us. The afternoon ended with a gentleman we barely knew enthusiastically toasting the "international family" we spontaneously formed that overcast April day.

People showed their hospitality in so many ways. Colleagues would invite us to dinner, provide a table laden with the best of Turkish cuisine and send us home with gifts.

The first time one of my children came down with a sore throat, my exchange partner's brother, a doctor, showed up at our door with his black bag. When we offered payment he made vague comments about a bill coming later. After that first house call, we visited his clinic several times for medical treatment, but our requests for a bill were always waved off.

The generosity and kindness overwhelmed us at times. Christmas Day is not a holiday in this Muslim nation, so my school was in session on that day. About lunch time on Dec. 24, my department chairperson told me to go home and to return to work the day after Christmas. Other teachers, she explained, would cover my classes because I needed to be home with my family. A few days earlier many of my fellow teachers had arrived at our home with gifts for our two children and ornaments for our skimpily decorated tree.

The library at Ephesus.

Sharing religious and cultural beliefs was an enriching part of my exchange. My students craved knowledge about Christmas and the traditions that surround this holiday not typically celebrated by their families. I helped my students make stockings and taught them some Christmas carols. We talked about Santa Claus, Rudolf, Frosty the Snowman, as well as the more religious aspects of Christmas.

At Easter time we decorated eggs, and once again I explained the religious beliefs surrounding this Christian celebration. During these discussions I always felt as though my students and I, in our simple way, were taking small steps toward building religious tolerance in the world. Now when I read in the newspaper horrifying accounts of radical Muslims slaughtering innocent people in the name of Allah, I know that such extreme actions do not completely represent the Islamic world.

More than 98 percent of Turkish people are part of that Islamic world. This religion, so different from our own Christian faith, surrounded us. In the evening when the chaos of big city life had subsided I would often go out on my balcony and gaze across the city's hillsides. Mosques dotted the landscape. They were easily recognizable by their tall minarets gracing the sky. Sometimes while standing there, I could hear the final call to prayer peacefully interrupt the solitude.

People hearing that most Turkish people are Islamic often imagine a place where women must cover their heads and bodies at all times and take a subservient role to men, or where all people are expected to follow strict Islamic rules. Turkey is not such a place.

In Ankara, a city of anywhere from four- to six-million people depending on whom you ask, many women work in professions and fill important decision-making roles. They dress in Western-influenced clothing, profess contemporary beliefs about women's roles and go about their lives much as professional women do in any American city.

Dena Minato, MS '82, and Jan Thenell, MA '82, visit the School during the Oregon Press Women annual awards luncheon for high school journalists.

The young female students I taught studied hard in school to earn top grades so they could gain acceptance to the best universities. They had plans to pursue degrees in engineering, medicine, architecture, education, business and numerous other fields. During the Islamic holy month of Ramadan we discovered that some of our Turkish friends who did not observe all religious rules observed this sacred time by fasting from sunup to sundown. In our conversations with them we learned more about Islam and the purpose of the fast. One of my fasting co-workers explained that Muslims go without food or drink during this time to cleanse their body and spirit and to experience the plight of poor people who regularly go without nourishment. Their fasting also demonstrates their belief in Allah.

The history and beauty of this ancient land were as enveloping as the hospitality of its people. I walked among the ruins of ancient cities like Ephesus, Troy and Hierapolis. I climbed to the top of a 2,000-year-old amphitheater. I stepped inside the oldest Christian church in the world. I removed my shoes and covered my head before walking quietly through Istanbul's elegant 17th century Blue Mosque. And I watched the sun set on the Mediterranean, Aegean and Black seas.

In June 1997, the final vocabulary list I taught to my Turkish students contained the word "unforgettable." Explaining the word came easily as I drew examples from my wealth of unforgettable experiences as an honored guest in their country.

The last few weeks were filled with goodbyes. The adventure that began one hot August morning when we encountered two slaughtered goats drew to a close much too quickly.

On another warm summer morning nearly a year later, we stood on the deck of an Italy-bound ferry. In our suitcases we had packed many tangible mementos of our year in Turkey: a Turkish teapot, a handwoven carpet, several "eyes of Allah" to protect us from evil, pottery, tiles and photographs. In our hearts we had stored many intangible treasures that would also get carried home to Oregon.

As the boat pulled away from the Turkish coastline, both my husband and I tearfully whispered farewell to a country and a people that had not only welcomed us, but had embraced us and made us a part of their world.

I will never forget the impromptu toast by a man who had been a stranger only minutes earlier and someone I will never see again-- the toast to an international family.

We now have one, and our lives will never be the same.