Post by yenilira on Nov 2, 2011 1:12:49 GMT 1
Every Turkish boy is overcome by mixed feelings when the time comes for him to join the army. Proud to be able to serve under the Turkish flag, yet unsure about what’s in store for him in the fifteen months to come. For most young men this is the first time they leave home and their family. In Turkey, army service is an opportunity to serve the country but it also symbolises the route to adulthood.
It is also mandatory.
There is a gathering at the parental home of Erol Avcý (19) in Mahmutlar this evening. Friends, family, neighbours.... the atmosphere is simultaneously cheerful and sad.
Erol is about to start his army service. Fifteen months away from home. It is an unforgettable moment of pride for him and his family, but saying goodbye is very hard.
“I’m crying” Erol’s mother Hatice says, “because I’m happy and sad at the same time. I’m sad as Erol has been the only man in the house since his father died ten years ago and now he has to leave us.
He’s leaving my daughter and me behind and life is not easy in Turkey for women on their own. We will miss Erol terribly. But I’m particularly proud and happy that my son, the boy I’ve raised, is now joining the army. He’s going to serve our country.”
In Turkey there is always the risk that a soldier dies during his service, but this knowledge doesn’t frighten Hatice. “If Erol dies during his service, he becomes a martyr, a þehit, who died for his country”, she says, holding her head high. “Allah will then send him directly to heaven.”
Outside, in front of the house, prayers start. The men open their hands. Together with the imam they pray that God will give Erol the strength to fulfil his service.
One hour to go. At 9.30pm the coach leaves Alanya bus station for Bilecik, a town near Bursa where Erol will spent three months in basic training. At the end of the three months, the young soldiers will be told where they will be sent for the remaining twelve months of their service. The lucky ones become Jandarmas in one of the coastal towns on the Mediterranean or Aegean Seas. Istanbul and Ankara are also popular places. However, chances are a new asker ends up in the east part of the country, where the Turkish army is still heavily involved in the fight against terrorism.
It is time to go. One of the neighbours hands Hatice a tissue to dry her tears. Erol’s face is tense.
As other young men from the same village are also joining the army tonight, a convoy of friends and family are accompanying the new recruits to Alanya. Tens of cars form a long trail and hooting loudly they take their askerler (soldiers) to the coach.
Like Erol’s red Renault, many cars have been decorated with the Turkish flag. This is the symbol which states: I’m joining the army. Numbers are also painted on cars – Erol’s car has number 90/1. This is the year the recruit was born – 1990 – and the first devre (period of 3 months).
The bus station is crowded. Apart from the boys from Mahmutlar, boys from Alanya and the other surrounding villages are also joining. Sounds from the davul (drum) and zuma (type of flute) rise above the crowds. Erol and his friends do a last dance. The boys laugh, men give the recruits an encouraging pad on the shoulder and women cry. Various people embrace Erol and put rolled up notes in his pockets.... Yol Parasý, money for on the road.
The atmosphere in the bus station is filled with emotions. Here one notices that army service holds an important place in Turkish society. Being a recruit doesn’t just mean that the son is serving his country, it also signifies a major step towards adulthood for the boys. “The army”, says Hatice, “is no cosy nest like home. In Turkey we say: the boys go straight from mummy’s house (ana ocaðý) to the house of the soldiers (asker oçaðý). Mummy’s is warm and soft, the soldiers’ house is cold and harsh. This is where our boys learn about life. I expect that Erol will be very different when he returns. He’ll be more mature. Our boys become men in the army.”
In the army it’s not possible to turn over in the morning and stay in bed longer. You eat what’s on your plate if you don’t want to go hungry and you do as you’re told by your superiors. Those who are argumentative or condescending, are quickly put in their place. Erol has heard many stories over the past weeks. Experiences of those who have completed their service, take on legendary proportions. But everyone agrees that the army is a tough place to learn about life and during this time the boys start to really appreciate their mothers.
Erol: “Of course I’m nervous. I keep asking myself what it will be like. I’ve been thinking about nothing else recently. I’m constantly wondering what it’s like in the army.”
Erol became 19 in November 2009. All Turkish boys with a good physical and mental health record, will join the army in the year they become 20. There are exceptions for graduates, but normally service is fifteen months.
“I enrolled as soon as I could because this is a good time for me. I don’t have a permanent job or a girlfriend – ties that make it more difficult to join when you’re older. February 2010 was the first option.”
Hatice: “Erol is strong and healthy now. It is the right time for him to go.”
The moment has come to say goodbye. The bus is waiting. “Don’t cry”, he tells his mother and sister. “I’m ready to go.”
Before they get on the bus, the askerler are thrown in the air by their mates. Then they carry them into the bus on their shoulders. Erol smiles. He’s a boy now, but he’ll be a man soon.
Should we have something of this nature in Britain,
bring back National Service?
What do you think?
YL.
It is also mandatory.
There is a gathering at the parental home of Erol Avcý (19) in Mahmutlar this evening. Friends, family, neighbours.... the atmosphere is simultaneously cheerful and sad.
Erol is about to start his army service. Fifteen months away from home. It is an unforgettable moment of pride for him and his family, but saying goodbye is very hard.
“I’m crying” Erol’s mother Hatice says, “because I’m happy and sad at the same time. I’m sad as Erol has been the only man in the house since his father died ten years ago and now he has to leave us.
He’s leaving my daughter and me behind and life is not easy in Turkey for women on their own. We will miss Erol terribly. But I’m particularly proud and happy that my son, the boy I’ve raised, is now joining the army. He’s going to serve our country.”
In Turkey there is always the risk that a soldier dies during his service, but this knowledge doesn’t frighten Hatice. “If Erol dies during his service, he becomes a martyr, a þehit, who died for his country”, she says, holding her head high. “Allah will then send him directly to heaven.”
Outside, in front of the house, prayers start. The men open their hands. Together with the imam they pray that God will give Erol the strength to fulfil his service.
One hour to go. At 9.30pm the coach leaves Alanya bus station for Bilecik, a town near Bursa where Erol will spent three months in basic training. At the end of the three months, the young soldiers will be told where they will be sent for the remaining twelve months of their service. The lucky ones become Jandarmas in one of the coastal towns on the Mediterranean or Aegean Seas. Istanbul and Ankara are also popular places. However, chances are a new asker ends up in the east part of the country, where the Turkish army is still heavily involved in the fight against terrorism.
It is time to go. One of the neighbours hands Hatice a tissue to dry her tears. Erol’s face is tense.
As other young men from the same village are also joining the army tonight, a convoy of friends and family are accompanying the new recruits to Alanya. Tens of cars form a long trail and hooting loudly they take their askerler (soldiers) to the coach.
Like Erol’s red Renault, many cars have been decorated with the Turkish flag. This is the symbol which states: I’m joining the army. Numbers are also painted on cars – Erol’s car has number 90/1. This is the year the recruit was born – 1990 – and the first devre (period of 3 months).
The bus station is crowded. Apart from the boys from Mahmutlar, boys from Alanya and the other surrounding villages are also joining. Sounds from the davul (drum) and zuma (type of flute) rise above the crowds. Erol and his friends do a last dance. The boys laugh, men give the recruits an encouraging pad on the shoulder and women cry. Various people embrace Erol and put rolled up notes in his pockets.... Yol Parasý, money for on the road.
The atmosphere in the bus station is filled with emotions. Here one notices that army service holds an important place in Turkish society. Being a recruit doesn’t just mean that the son is serving his country, it also signifies a major step towards adulthood for the boys. “The army”, says Hatice, “is no cosy nest like home. In Turkey we say: the boys go straight from mummy’s house (ana ocaðý) to the house of the soldiers (asker oçaðý). Mummy’s is warm and soft, the soldiers’ house is cold and harsh. This is where our boys learn about life. I expect that Erol will be very different when he returns. He’ll be more mature. Our boys become men in the army.”
In the army it’s not possible to turn over in the morning and stay in bed longer. You eat what’s on your plate if you don’t want to go hungry and you do as you’re told by your superiors. Those who are argumentative or condescending, are quickly put in their place. Erol has heard many stories over the past weeks. Experiences of those who have completed their service, take on legendary proportions. But everyone agrees that the army is a tough place to learn about life and during this time the boys start to really appreciate their mothers.
Erol: “Of course I’m nervous. I keep asking myself what it will be like. I’ve been thinking about nothing else recently. I’m constantly wondering what it’s like in the army.”
Erol became 19 in November 2009. All Turkish boys with a good physical and mental health record, will join the army in the year they become 20. There are exceptions for graduates, but normally service is fifteen months.
“I enrolled as soon as I could because this is a good time for me. I don’t have a permanent job or a girlfriend – ties that make it more difficult to join when you’re older. February 2010 was the first option.”
Hatice: “Erol is strong and healthy now. It is the right time for him to go.”
The moment has come to say goodbye. The bus is waiting. “Don’t cry”, he tells his mother and sister. “I’m ready to go.”
Before they get on the bus, the askerler are thrown in the air by their mates. Then they carry them into the bus on their shoulders. Erol smiles. He’s a boy now, but he’ll be a man soon.
Should we have something of this nature in Britain,
bring back National Service?
What do you think?
YL.