Just back from a week of holiday for the Muslim holiday of Kurban Bayram, translated directly as the Feast of the Sacrifice, as it is known in Turkey, or Eid al-Adha, in other parts of the Muslim world.
I know there are many of you reading who know all about Bayram and what is represents, but for those who don't I'll give you some info and my impressions.
Basically, the sacrifice of an animal demonstrates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son Ishmael as an act of obedience of God, although God provided an animal (a ram) in Ishmael's place once Abraham had demonstrated his willingness to obey God's commands.
Throughout Turkey you will find animals on the back of trucks being lead to slaughter and in bigger cities you can find abattoir style places where animals can be purchased and sacrificed from as opposed to front gardens and parks which was the case in years past!
The meat from the slaughter is then shared between families, themselves and people in need who cannot otherwise afford to buy meat. It is said that this is to remind Muslims that all things (wealth, animals, food, etc) are from God and must be shared among his people.
It was an interesting week for me, to say the least. I kind of expected to rest and laze about reading books, playing sudoku and eating too much. Although I managed to do all three, I also played housewife and host, tea and coffee maker, butcher, dishwasher and farm hand.
My husband and his brother attended the sacrifice early on the first day of Bayram with the butcher. Afterwards, they returned to the house with half the meat, the other half was given to my husband's aunt and uncle who had shared the cost of the animal. There I helped cut, separate and package the meat and then helped cook 'kavurma' which is a tasty, but cholesterol filled, meal of stewed meat, usually cooked in its own fat.
After the meat was dealt with, guests started to arrive to give Bayram greetings. My husband's father is not well and cannot get about easily, so people he would usually visit, came to visit him. I served the endless guests cups of tea and traditional Bayram desserts of 'ev baklava' (homemade baklava) and 'kadayfi' (shredded pastry with nuts and sugar syrup) and offered rounds of chocolates and plates of fruit. I was up and down from the kitchen to the living room so many times it was like my old waitressing days.
Turkish hospitality is a serious business. There is proper order in which things should take place; like who is served first- usually the oldest person in the group is served tea and dessert first followed by those other senior people. There are certain people who you greet with a handshake and other who you greet with the more formal kiss of the back of the hand which is then touched to your forehead before kissing each cheek from right to left. In many homes in Anatolia, there are no big couches and people sit on the floor on pillows. If there is a couch, it should be given up for others.
I found it quite stressful to remember who to serve first, who's hand I should or should not kiss and so on. We don't practice these kinds of cultural customs back home and usually tend to greet people with a handshake, hug and or kiss. Individuals, regardless of age, are generally considered equals and there is no 'pecking' order as such. Children, teenagers and young adults are generally free to do what they want and not have to hang around the adults, but 'n Turkey I find that they tend to sit around and listen intently to the older folks speaking. Not being present when guests have come can be considered rude and disrespectful.
Now that my husband's sister is not in Turkey anymore, I feel like I have filled her space as the 'Gelin' (translated as bride or daughter-in-law) and now have to step up which is quite difficult given she was a typical Turkish daughter who lived at home until she was married and did everything that her parents asked of her and she was content with being a great Turkish host. My idea of hospitality is slightly less stressful, but now I find myself 'checking' my relaxed style and wondering if I need to learn a thing or two from these people.
My husband's mother is a very hard working woman. She worked in the garden for many hours, even though it had snowed for the first night and day we were there and the temperatures were below zero. She barbecued, baked and cooked the whole week and served everyone without complaint. She cleaned and vacuumed the house and never asked for help. She carried fire wood and loaded the two fire heaters the whole week, early in the morning and late at night. I'm not sure I am much of a match to her!
On the morning of the sacrifice, once my husband had returned to the house, we all offered our Bayram blessings and greetings to the parents. I took Baba's hand and kissed it and put it to my head and then hugged him. As I hugged him, he cried. I looked at my husband and asked why he was crying and he said "it's because you are here, you're here with him, you're here with us".
I guess I could call this is my sacrifice.
