The day after I arrived back from my trip Hıkmet Bey, the apartment janitor, appeared at the door. It was obvious that he had an urgent message to convey. Excitedly, he informed me that an attempt to deliver my polling card had been made but it was returned as I wasn’t there to collect it in person. It seems he did not think twice about receiving a polling card on my behalf. He stressed that I must go to the muhtar tomorrow to pick it up. Knowing I had two weeks before the election, I went 10 days later. My visit to the muhtar was very calm. A friend who had not received her polling card either went with me and the muhtar knows both of us.
It was not busy! It was not hot! It was not crowded!
We made the outing an opportunity walk our two dogs, Kila and Ginger, and they were very excited about the idea. Our muhtar has a bench outside in his grassy area so I sat there with our dogs and my friend went inside. I gave her my national identity card just to check if my polling card was there. I was pleasantly surprised when she came out with it in hand. I had not really expected he would actually give it to her since the postman would not leave it in the care of the apartment janitors. My friend must have a very honest face.
Now we like our muhtar -- he is a real “İstanbul gentleman.” His office is very organized and he apparently looked our name up on the computer to find which ballot box we would be using. On the table were sets of polling cards, neatly arranged with elastic bands round them, for each box. In the pile for box number 4368 was my card.
My friend’s polling card had been also been delivered in her absence. She lives two streets over from me but the muhtar had not received hers back yet. He can tell a lot about people and he sized her up as someone who was computer literate. He suggested the she just go on the Internet, type in her national identity number and print hers off, after which he wrote down the Web site. (That’s just what she did -- Turkey has really done a great job of computerizing the election process.) He also took great pains to make sure we knew where the polling stations (two local schools) were even though she assured him she knew them well (at one of them we had even attended a book fair from my bookstore).
The big day to vote finally came this past Sunday and it was exciting. You can always tell when it is Election Day -- it is always a Sunday. As most of us know Sunday mornings are usually quiet in Turkey and not too much is stirring, except maybe the cats and dogs on the street.
July 22 was different. As we went out to vote there were lots of people out for a walk. They were all either heading to or coming from the same place -- the polling station -- a state elementary school. For some it seemed like a family outing -- a group of five or six people strolling along together. Elderly people were leaning on the arms of their children. Young kids were exited to be going along with their parents to witness their important execution of a duty of citizenship.
When we arrived at the school only one entrance was open and there were police on duty. They seemed to be having a relaxed time of it as everyone was in a bright and cheerful mood, having woken up early to avoid the heat of the day.
Interestingly enough, the official news agencies announced that you could not bring your guns to the polling station and that no alcohol could be sold on Election Day. Some wonder if it will be sold in the future at all.
Ready to cross the threshold of the school, with Turkey crossing into the political future, my experiences inside the polling station continues on Friday.
Note: Keep your questions and observations coming: I want to ensure this column is a help to you, Today’s Zaman’s readers. Email: c.mcpherson@todayszaman.com
