TALK TURK
June 25th, 2007“We only have chicken kebab”, informed the waiter as we sat at an uncleared table of a rapidly emptying restaurant part way up a mountain. Whether this news meant that our previous alternative of eggs was no longer coming we were yet to find out, but things were looking up as when we entered they had nothing to offer at all. Between this Mad Hatter lunch ordeal our traveling team was united with its needy pillar as our previously unseen guest had finally found us. We were to play host to a Turkish tourist during our three day excursion to Iran’s Turk (known as ‘Azeri’ to the locals – as in, relating to Iran/Azerbaijan) regions – making the most of yet another Islamic holiday.
Our rendezvous arrangements proved as backward as our lunch arrangements as we missed our new friend in the main city of Tabriz and had to guide him to an early stage of our trek. His arrival couldn’t have come sooner, he became the key needed to unlock to mystery of the local behavior. As he arrived our soup arrived, one single large bowl of it – at the beginning we wanted soup, then they didn’t have any, then they didn’t have anything – now we had soup, no eggs and everything we’d initially ordered, including the previous customer’s food that still hadn’t been cleared.
It should be noted that the Turks are to the Iranians what the Irish are to the English and as we settled up and headed off the many Iranian jokes about the Turks started to gain credibility.
In theory our newly found friend was to be guided by us Iranian folk as he upturned the stones of Iranian culture, yet things went much the other way round. The regional language is Turk, of which 30% of Iran speak (including my family), not the Farsi that we city kids speak. Of course, our new friend can’t speak Farsi but his mother tongue is Turkish, which is maybe over 90% the same as Turk, forgiving the kooky accent. Thankfully however we all spoke English and for a rare occasion I was the good all-rounder, knowing a shameful amount of each. Between us we made a triangle of entertainment for the locals, discussing in Farsi, conveying in English and presenting in Turk – only to then do it in reverse. We were like some comedy outfit, one deaf and one blind, getting results in a slap-stick style.
“Don’t be tired”, “don’t be tired!”, and then another group of trekkers passed, “don’t be tired”, I politely state again. This aroused outbursts of laughter from our new friend with each kooky Turk tone that came from me. I was sincere, it’s what we do when hiking, maybe it was the fact that I had no idea what was being said back at me. During this hefty hike we all became acquainted as we guessed our way through the cool cloud covered mountain. Our new friend is blessed with warmth and honesty that allows for his charismatic and sometimes over-familiarity to escape evasion. Most of the trek he would be in some way attached to us, or even passers by – he was as comfortable with English as he was with his hands when talking.
Our trek was to take us to a place called Babak Fort, a historical location known for a time the locals fended off the Arabs. The site was hidden by winding paths, steep climbs and also low cloud during our assent – thankfully the cool moist air took the strain out of the climb, gathering in our hair like dew on a spiders web. We deceptively arrived on several occasions of which I’m sure was the intentional design, yet upon our eventually arrival there was little to see. I mean, literally there was little to see, 5-metres ahead was what was available to our eyes and that which could be seen was restoration work.
Groups of trekkers joined us in this short lived relief, snacks and drinks were had as at least three mobiles squealed out traditional songs. A group of odd haircuts and clothes played the worst of it, between their chats and sing-alongs they cleared the plastic remains from previous visitors. “Is that Mostafazedeh…?”, asked our musical buff in Farsi, “Talk Turk!”, replied the haircut in Turk before they reached a chorus in unison. In response to this hostility our new Turkish friend’s hands came out the pocket again and connections were made – it appeared that we’d stumbled upon the Azari separatist. There was a long trade of words between the Turk and Turkish neighbours, a lot of touchy feely yet understanding seemed to be met. “What was that all about?”, I asked as the deaf man to the blind. “I’ll tell you later”, he responded as I led us back down the mountain.
Photographs from this visit can be found at my photo journal
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I found your article and pictures really interesting. I’m Iranian and lived for 1 year in Baku, Republic of Azerbaijan. I found the people there friendly, but most (not all) are very anti-Iranian or anti-Persian. Some really really hate Iran. They also want to free “Southern Azerbaijan”, the Azeri part of Iran, as they call it. What do you think? Is that what the people you met want?
Sir/Madam,
Your writing has a racist bias towards Azeri Turks. Your experience in a restaurant doesn’t validate racist jokes some mean (and mostly uneducated)persians utter about Azeri Turks. Also it is interesting you equate Iranian and perisan in your writing. “It should be noted that the Turks are to the Iranians…” meaning Azeri Turks are not Iranians! Now who really is a separatist?
Your English is very broken grammatically by the way, I wish you wrote in a proper English so international audience would get to know better some persian racists trying hard to make a negative image of Azerbaijan or Azeri Turks.
i was in Baku for a month and the people were anti-Iranian because they honestly thought that the Azeris on the Iranian side were discriminated against (Supreme Leader, Mr. Khamenei is an Azeri background). Interestingly Baku and Azerbaijan were full of Iranian products and goods. Anyways, bottom line is that as an Iranian, I consider my fellow Azeris as part of me as I am part of them and their heritage and culture.
Thank you for your posting.
I really don’t think they “honestly” think that Azaris in Iran are discriminated against. It is just that they need this tension with Iran. All of their history is a fiction, lies. If they don’t have this tension, then they are afraid their people will one day realise that their country was always part of Iran, that everthing they’ve been told in their history were all lies. You know, it’s for this reason they don’t like Iranian Azaris either. The Iranian Azaris are proud to be Iranian, and this really iritates and confuses the poor notherners (who are in reality very poor in comparison to Iran).
These North Azeris are slaves to Aliyev and the small, corrupt, incompetent, and small-minded elite that rules them. And unlike Iranians, they don’t yet want or even think about freedom. So no, they are not part of us, and we are not part of them.
I’m Kuwaiti which speaks Arabic and English only, but my background is Iranian (from my father side lur and my mother side azeri), my mother describe her self as tubrizi turks, she understood from that she was Turkic origin from turkey, her family lived in Kuwait since 300 years, so i searched in the webs about that and it was clear for me after my researches that azerbaijani’s are true Iranian arians, so, I’m proud of my self to be related to a great empire, i don’t give a damn about what the northern Azerbaijani’s sayings, also, i really hate those who are trying to change their skin and i look to them as pathetic losers.(noticing that my mother is proud to be from Iranian origin unlike the others).