Last night Seiji and I went to a Turkish restaurant in Ikebukuro called 'Antep', after a region in Turkey. I've been dying to introduce Seiji to the joys of Turkish cuisine but haven't had the chance until now. It was fantastic to eat Turkish food again after such a long time... stuffed green peppers... spicy tomato ezme... Turkish ekmek (bread)... and lahmacun, that cripsy thin baked pita break with minced lamb. It was simply divine. And it was great fun to talk what little Turkish I remember to the highly amused waitress and cooks as we drank a cold Efes beer.
As we sat there, surrounded by Turkish kilims that are the speciality of the town I used to live in, Sivas, with nargile water pipes on the shelves and the blue and yellow evil eyes hanging on the wall, I was flooded with all these memories of those strange six months I spent in the mountains of Central Anatolia. The song of the call to prayer echoing through the cold streets... people walking down the road with steaming lahmacun fresh from the baker wrapped up in newspaper... sipping tiny cups of cay (tea) after a wonderfully cheap and satisfying meal... the smell of doner wafting from the kebap shops, and of course, the emotional quality of Turkish music that makes you want to dance while also envoking tears. Sitting there in the restaurant I was really taken back to my time in Sivas, and I sincerely hope that one day soon I will return to Turkey again.
Just as we were rubbing our bellies in post-meal satisfaction, we couldn't help but to observe the silently dramatic episode that was taking place at the table next to us. The tension hovering over that table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I'm sure even the waitress was aware of it.
A young Turkish man was sitting with his pretty Japanese girlfriend, and across the table were the boy's parents. They had that look in their eyes of being completely out of their element - strangers in a strange land, probably right out of a small traditional town like Sivas, visiting their son living in the weird world that is Tokyo. The dad was a typical looking Turkish dude, white beard, waistcoat, small pot belly, black cap on his head, cigarette in hand. And his mom was definitely the typical Turkish lady, in a loose fitting dress and a flowery head scarf draped over her head, her wrinkly face unable to hide the worry she was obviously experiencing.
Sure, interracial relationships can be stressful, especially if religion is a major issue, but we couldn't figure out exactly why it was so tense. It was obvious to us that he was introducing his Japanese girlfriend to his parents for the very first time, which must be a strange experience for all of them... but still, it seemed unnecessarily tense at the table. The son stood up and took his father to the nearby bathroom, leaving the Japanese girl to sit nervously with the traditional Turkish mom, neither making eye contact, and both probably unable to communicate two words. We felt really bad for the Japanese girl.
It was only when the son and father returned to the table and they all stood to leave the restaurant that we realized the real reason for the high level of tension... as the Japanese girl stood up and turned to the side to pick up her handbag, we saw the delicate curve of a little pregnant belly under her loose black blouse. No wonder they were all under such stress. The boy's parents are probably thinking what a disaster it is that their precious boy child has knocked up a Japanese girl, a woman from half way across the world who doesn't speak the language or understand the culture or religion. They were probably counting on him returning to Turkey in the future. And who knows what would happen now?
Perhaps the boy are girl are deeply in love, or maybe it was just an accident. Maybe he is marrying this girl. Maybe he will return to Turkey with his parents and never return to Tokyo. Or maybe he'll defy tradition and stay in Tokyo with his girlfriend, and raise a very cute half-Turk half-Jap kid. We watched the family leave the restaurant and walk down the street below, the Japanese girl looking sadly uncomfortable, the parents looking around bug-eyed at the neon city, and we were left there to wonder what would happen to all of them later that night.
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