I love spending the summer in my village. This year, I have already been here for three months. There are always a lot of things to do in our new house and our big garden. Finally, my hard work starts to pay off and I can’t wait to harvest my first tomatoes and cucumbers for a fresh salad.
All my life, I have been a housewife and I enjoy cooking with the vegetables and fruits from my garden. When being in my garden, I feel inner peace, I do not have to justify myself for anything. Plants do not comment.
“Fatima,” I hear our neighbor shouting. “Can you please help these two Germans?” There are two Germans in my village? What are they doing here, am I wondering. “Of course, please come to us,” I say while laying down my spoon and bowl. I was about to prepare traditional yogurt.
When getting up from my chair, my mind automatically switches to German and I hear myself saying “Hallo, willkommen,” even before seeing that girl with a big smile on her face and this tall boy. I hug the girl who introduces herself as Teresa and give her a kiss on the cheek. The boy astonishes me with a warm “Merhaba.” Does he speak Turkish? And then he introduces himself as Dennis. “Is he Turkish?”, am I wondering.
At that moment, I cannot help but to think that they could be my kids and activate my mom-mode: “Are you hungry?” I ask them, and without waiting for their reply, I continue “please sit down, my husband and I have just eaten but we have enough food left for you.” For a short moment, an expression of surprise appears on Teresa’s and Dennis’ faces but then, they relax and accept my invitation and Teresa says “sure, we would love to try your food.” It seems like she already knows that I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. My children are only too aware of this. Oh, I miss my four kids so much. They were born and raised in Germany, and their lives take place there, not here. They have work at home, so of course, they cannot spend the whole summer with us in Turkey. But every day, I find myself wishing they would be here with us.
As a Turkish person in Germany
Teresa and Dennis join us at the table on our terrace. While they are eating my potato and beef stew, they tell me that they came all the way to my village Sürmene by public transport. How is that even possible? I am already exhausted from traveling for three days from Germany to Turkey with my husband. And I am so glad that we do this journey with our own car. I love spending the summer months in Turkey, especially now that we are retired. But I hate the road trip to Turkey – it just takes too long.
After three months in Turkey, it is nice to speak some German again and we start talking about our lives in Germany. I can’t hold my feelings and tell them how hard it has been for me. “My husband worked for forty years in Germany. We have been living more time in Germany than we have been in Turkey. However, in Turkey, I am not Turkish but German. And in Germany, I am not German but Turkish. That hurts! Germany has become my home, but people tell me that I am not German?” I burst out in frustration. “I am so sorry to hear this,” Dennis and Teresa reply. “We are ashamed of our people.” “I once even got verbally insulted because I am wearing a headscarf…” I mumble to myself. Did I just say that or only think about my most awful moment in Germany? By looking at their faces, I know the answer.
“Do you want to see my house?” I ask them. I am very proud of our new house because I did all the interior design and decoration on my own. They agree and we go inside. Each of my four children has an own room – in case they want to spend some time with us in Turkey. I cannot help but keep dreaming about that. Additionally, everything is accessible by wheelchair because one of my sons had an accident. He is paralyzed ever since and relies on a wheelchair. “But I am so proud of him. His wife is taking good care of him and in such a loving way – this is how a marriage should be,” I tell them. We continue on to the balcony from where I can show them the houses of my relatives who all live nearby. Just in that moment, I realize that the sun is already beginning to set. It is time to go and visit my mother!
Time to get home
I would love to chat with Dennis and Teresa the whole night, but I can’t. I must go to my sister’s house and help her taking care of my sick mother. “My husband will drive there with the car in a few minutes. Why don’t we already start walking together? My sister’s house is next to the apartment where you are staying.” “Of course,” Teresa says and as I would have done with my daughter, I take her hand and start walking with her hand in hand. Meanwhile, all the street dogs of our village have gathered in our yard since we pet and feed them. Dennis walks behind us and plays with the dogs. Especially the big one became his friend and begs for his attention while we are walking.
Teresa asks me how much Sürmene has changed since I left. “My dear, that’s a long time ago, I married my husband at the age of 16 and moved in with him in Germany two years later,” I tell Teresa and she looks at me shocked. Smiling while knowing what she must think, I continue, “don’t worry, we would not marry that early anymore… And yes, this place has changed a lot, there are more houses now. And we got a tarmac road. When we were young, it was just a gravel road that was inaccessible when it was raining. I remember that going to school during rain was horrible. But shortly after finishing school, I fell in love with my husband here in this village. Ah, these good old days, more than 40 years ago!”
Upon reaching my sister’s house, all neighbors are on the street. Everyone is curious to know who these two strangers are and what they are doing in our village. I proudly explain to them how we met and that they stay in the apartment of the neighbor who now lives in Germany. Everybody in the village is so excited that this German couple came to our village – there is not much else happening here. But at the same time, they are also very proud to have ‘two Germans’ staying in their village during the summer who can translate for them. They perceive me and my husband as German which leaves me with mixed feelings.
As I do not want to keep my sister and mother waiting, it is time to say goodbye to Teresa and Dennis: “Next time when you come to Sürmene, you can stay at my house. There is plenty of space and food, you are always welcome.” In the meantime, my husband has arrived by car. We both wave at them and blow them kisses while they walk to their apartment nearby and slowly close the door, waiving back at us. The attraction of the day is heading home and all neighbours slowly go back to their homes, leaving the street as playground to the dogs.
When entering my sister’s home, my mother already awaits me eagerly and pours me a glass of boiling hot Turkish tea. The smell of tea always spreads a feeling of comfort and security in me. As long as I am surrounded by my family, I am happy and feel at home – no matter if in Germany or in Turkey.
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