There are a couple families on our street, however, who allow their small children to play outside on our short, but busy street. My son often watches their games from our window, wishing he too were allowed to play down there with them. But as I explain to him, I am nervous about him being out on the street with cars that race around the corners, suddenly appearing and scattering children and their balls in between the parked cars.I grew up in the country and to me, playing in the street is a new experience. Even in Washington, D.C., children amused themselves in neighbor's yards or nearby parks and playgrounds. And wherever they were, there was always at least one pair of adult eyes keeping track of their actions and whereabouts. I've noticed that in Turkey some families are much more relaxed in their supervision of the children. Older children are trusted to look after the younger ones. And it sometimes seems to me that younger children are a little more responsible than their peers in other countries are. Perhaps growing up in a city environment makes them a little more independent and street savvy. But there also can be downsides to children playing on their own. A case in point occurred this week as my son and I were returning from an outing to the park together. As we walked down our street, deserted in the heat of the day, we noticed a boy about 6 years old gathering up scraps of flyers and newspapers and setting them alight. The day was a little breezy, and he was obviously delighted to watch the burning papers scatter down the street in the wind, fluttering between parked cars and dry bushes. As I yelled at him to stop, he froze in place, stunned to find a strange foreign woman bearing down on him. Snatching the lighter he was using from his hand, I grabbed his arm and dragged him along behind me as I stomped out all the little fires he had just set.
Saying that he was sorry and would not play with fire again, he struggled to get out of my grasp. I gave him a choice to either take me to his mother so that I could speak with her about this, or go with us and talk to the police about the dangers of lighting fires. His eyes widened as he considered the two choices I offered him. As he begged me not to tell his mother, my own son softened and urged me to let him go, pointing out that the boy said he would never light fires again. Not convinced, I again told him to choose which way we were going -- to his apartment or around the corner to the police department. As I knew he would, he chose to take us to his home.
With him still in my grip and my son trailing along, lecturing the boy in Turkish about the dangers of playing with fire, we rang his doorbell. His mother answered and was surprised to find a foreigner, who was obviously very angry, standing at her door. The boy scooted inside the door, suddenly saying he had done nothing wrong and that he did not know why I was there. Furious at his lie, I told the mother, in my broken Turkish, what had happened. My son, for emphasis, retold the story in dramatic detail for her benefit, making sure to point out that not only had her son been playing dangerously out on the street by himself, but also he had now proven himself to be a liar. The woman listened and turned to her son, who again changed his story to say that he had just lit one piece of paper as an experiment. I told her that story was also not quite the truth, as it appeared that her son had been unsupervised on the street for a little while and while stomping out the fires I saw him light, I had noticed a lot of charred pieces of paper lining our street. I also showed her the lighter I had confiscated from her son, which she recognized as belonging to her husband.
The mother seemed to be very concerned that her son had been lighting fires on the street, but unconcerned that he was outside finding his own forms of entertainment all by himself. Assuring me that she and her husband would take care of the situation and that the boy would definitely not be playing with fire again any time soon, my son and I departed.
I have no idea what the mother thought about me just showing up at her door with her child in tow. I felt that it was very important that his parents know what he was up to out on his own. While I have seen many Turks correct children, and their parents, in public places, I do not know if I crossed a cultural line by arriving unannounced at her home. Perhaps I did. I suspect that the story has already circulated through our neighborhood. But to me it is important that children are aware of their actions and the consequences they will face if they act in an inappropriate or dangerous manner. My son knows that he is still not allowed to go out by himself, even though from our window he sees other children his age and younger out on their own. Maybe I am overly protective, maybe it is cultural differences. I know that for me, this is a rule that I am not willing to bend. When he gets older and better understands the difference between right and wrong and is not so easily tempted by the action of his peers, then I will reassess this rule.
Send comments and questions to k.hamilton@todayszaman.com
