Growing up Turk-lish Part II: Insight into our lost souls
Candi Gülteki's four children in Kuşadası, Aydın, western Turkey. (Photo by Leyla Yvonne Ergil)

Many writers will agree with me that stories told from the heart resonate most with their readers. And so, here is another one filled with personal anecdotes, I believe many can relate to.



Life is funny because sometimes you reap the rewards when you least expect them. I was hesitant to write about my personal experiences, being half-Turkish, half-English and raised in America. Aware of my roots, I have been an American in various aspects of my life. The response to my personal stories has been gratifying as many readers reached out to thank me. Anyone in my position will know that receiving gratitude for something you did by a complete stranger is basically the most rewarding feeling in life. And so, I truly thank my readers for their motivating response.

I never thought the moniker of being Turk-lish (half-Turkish and half-something else) and some of the light insight I tried to provide into the unique challenges we face would resonate with so many. The response to this particular article has been astonishing and I have been receiving dozens of personal messages every day since its publishing.

I could have even called us "Turklings" to be honest, had it come to mind. But, it is the genius of reader Candi Gülteki, who shared with me that she uses the term to refer to her four children. Hailing from West Virginia, where she met her Turkish husband, Gülteki and her Turklings now live in Kuşadası.

Candi Gülteki's daughters in Kuşadası, Aydın, western Turkey. (Photo by Leyla Yvonne Ergil)

One of the stories made me literally laugh out loud because it’s not only true, it is a tactic I have definitely been using myself for decades. Born and raised in the U.S. to Turkish parents, Osman Bengur would visit but has never actually lived in Turkey.

Bengur also happened to be deeply involved with the Democratic Party in Maryland and ran for U.S. Congress in 2002 and 2006. Now, he supports other candidates, notably Tom Perez, a candidate for governor of Maryland. He wrote that when he says he is Turkish to the Turks, they complain about his limited Turkish. One day while chatting with a cab driver in Istanbul, Osman decided to say he was American instead and the response he got was: "Wow, you have great Turkish!"

Anyway, I always disclose that I am American because despite my Turkish being fluent, Turks can still seem to recognize that signature "R" letter Americans tend to swallow and the "A" that we over pronounce. Americans are also notoriously louder and I have to admit controlling my pitch in Turkey has been a life struggle. Some people can stand the high tone, for some, I ask too many questions. Maybe that's just me, after all, it’s my job. I am a journalist.

A combination of photos shows Leyla Yvonne Ergil across the years, from Los Angeles in upper left to United Kingdom in upper right, and finally Turkey. (Photos by Leyla Yvonne Ergil)

Then there was my horrific faux pas as a child when speaking to my father's attorney, I said "oha," which I logically thought translated to "wow." He was telling me that he was one of eight siblings at the time. My father pulled me aside and asked me why I had spoken to him in that way. I didn’t understand at all what I had done wrong but, it turns out that the word "oha" is, I guess, somewhat derogatory. I still don't quite know why.

At one point, I was translating the Ellen show from English into Turkish. I was unsuccessful, needless to say, and that may be because Ellen Degeneres tends to use the word "wow" a lot! This time I chose to translate the word into the Turkish version of "vay canına." The problem with this is that she says wow so much that the translation just didn’t fit into the allotted timeslot of the program. Needless to say, it seemed an impossible task and I tacked that one off as a learning experience and to stick with what I know, which is writing in English.

Despite being fluent in Turkish, I had a constant struggle with my Turkish writing professor in graduate school in Austin, Texas. He would return my thorough in-depth book reviews with red checks all over the place. Meanwhile, fellow peers whose Turkish was much worse than mine were getting the top accolades. Now that was frustrating, but it was all because had high standards for me knowing I was a Turk!

Parents of Leyla Yvonne Ergil, Tanju Ergil (L) and Angela Croal, in Paris, France, 1973. (Photo by Leyla Yvonne Ergil)

In the first edition of "Growing up Turk-lish," I tried to explain the complexities we face regarding money. We can be considered stingy in Turkey and extravagant in the West.

In the same regard, we can be called overweight or need I say "şişko, balık etli or kilolu" in Turkey when we are considered average-sized in the West, where no one would ever dare mention someone’s weight. Alas, any visitor will know well that Turks are obsessed with people's weight. They comment on it regularly and often even before asking basic introductory questions like what your profession is. They will tell you if you've gained weight, how much and even yell it across the street. My friend Jeffrey Hibbert, an American teacher who lives in Izmir, recently posted on social media about how he doesn't need a scale because the shop owners yell across the street how much he has gained. I responded by saying that I finally lost the weight and now my market vendors yell at me to stop.

One other thing that can drive the Turk-lish nuts is the Turks' bizarre inability to wait in line properly. In many cases, especially in crowded spaces like utility companies and bureaucratic offices, Turks just jump ahead or invade your personal space to inch up closer to the counter. Turks are so wonderfully patient when it comes to their children, foreigners and elders but, for some reason, when they get behind a wheel or need to wait in line for a long period of time, their patience seems to crumble.

Parents of Leyla Yvonne Ergil, Tanju Ergil (L) and Angela Croal during their wedding, in London, U.K., Jan. 25, 1974. (Photo by Leyla Yvonne Ergil)

I literally told off an incredibly famous actor once in Istanbul’s Cihangir neighborhood and, of course, I didn’t recognize him. He had just walked in all blasé and ordered his coffee and pastries to go. But, I and like five others had been waiting in line, so I spoke up! Naturally, he totally ignored me and thankfully I wasn’t that persistent but the baristas at the bakery later apologized for letting him cut in line and told me why. Since then, I have chosen to change my attitude about lines and whenever I see someone itching to get ahead of me, I just offer to let them go ahead of me. This practice has been truly rewarding as I no longer fly off the handle by taking control of the situation. Every single time, those pushy Turks suddenly turn to mush and thank me profusely for being so kind. For me, it’s just a habit I created that happens to come with great rewards.

I averted what could have been one of the biggest regrets of my life by deciding to always see things from a grand perspective, literally. Once, I was nearly trampled at the former Istanbul Airport when dozens of arrivals rushed past, knocking me over along the way. No one even noticed when I fell. However, I looked around me and suddenly realized that I was amid a huge family running to greet a family member returning from the hajj pilgrimage. When I looked back up from the floor, they were all hugging and crying with joy in an emotional reunion. Can you imagine how I would have felt if instead of just getting up and disappearing, I had suddenly snapped at them right before this momentous occasion? People spend their lives dreaming of the opportunity to take part in the hajj pilgrimage. I couldn’t have lived with myself had I caused an outburst.

Turkey and the vast number of ethnicities and cultures it hosts have given me the ability to weigh all of the options in a situation before I react and to act with gratitude first. That's what Turkey has taught me!