Turkey: ‘Bekar,' white female

After hearing it now for the umpteenth time, at every encounter, usually during the first nanosecond of our ritualistic niceties and well before my newest acquaintance knows how I like my tea, I understand very well what the word “bekar” means and the various words it comes sandwiched with, such as “Bekar mısın?”, “O bekar mı?” and “Neden bekar?”*

I am indeed a female who is “bekar,” and never have I been so aware of my bekarness than during these last few months of living in Turkey. “Evet, ben bekarım,” comes my response. Trying to make it sound as neutral as possible, not giving away a hint of the uneasiness I might feel in this militantly anti-bekar society. I usually feel like adding “Don't worry, it's not contagious” to assuage the well-meaning enquirer.

The speed at which the question pops out is one of the elements which amazes me -- not to mention the reaction which my answer in the affirmative provokes. The reaction vacillates between one that is usually reserved for someone witnessing the collapse of the Twin Towers and that of a mourner at the funeral of a close relative. Especially, in my particular case, when, during this ultra-important quick-fire round, it has been elicited that I am well past the age of goddammit 30! Double whammy. Not just “bekar” but also beyond the sacred age of otuz! No Community Chest card. No Chance. Go straight to jail. Don't pass GO. Wait until you roll a double to get out or pay a fine. Languor in your bekarness until we know what on earth to do with you and try to make sense of the kind of daft human being you are who is obviously running rudderless in life and useless at getting the fundamentals right when it comes to tracking a viable course to Sal-va-tion!

So, there I find myself on so many occasions, without a drop of tea having wet my lips in this famous Turkish hospitality and two questions which we NEVER ask a lady above the age of 21 at home, in my native Ireland, having been asked with the directness of a Mongol's arrow.

On the upside, if I have been meeting people of their word, I should have agents scouring the four corners of the country for an eligible husband for me and in many of the well-to-do districts of İstanbul. The sooner the better, because I obviously need to be cured of this bekar illness as soon as possible -- in case it thinks of spreading to my vital organs.

On occasion, I find myself wondering why it is of such utter importance whether I am bekar or not, especially, in the eyes of the Turkish women I meet. Why is it I feel that there is more than just a passing curiosity which could be equally applied for example, to what studies I did in college or to whom my favorite writer was?

Because here, it seems, marriage is the cornerstone of life. No matter highly educated or illiterate. It is the great leveler in Turkish society -- as it is in so many cultures outside of the Western culture. And so it is asked of and, what's more, seems expected of everyone. Tellingly, the marriage rate is high and divorce relatively uncommon, albeit rising.

“So does this mean, they're all in happy marriages?” quizzed Alice in Wonderland, wide-eyed. “Well, they are not in unhappy divorces,” came the White Rabbit's evasive reply. “But they are certainly not BEKAR!” thundered The Chorus, causing a slight earth tremor and finally putting the world to rights.

No they are not bekar and their marriages, although heavily spiced with local flavors, mirror very much our own, in all their complexities, which is why it makes me wonder why they are in such a hurry to sign me up to the challenge in the first place!

There are spouses like Ahmet, a restaurateur on the Mediterranean coast, who, at 40, “wasn't getting any younger” so wished to marry to propagate his genes, which he did successfully five years ago, producing an all-important son. He tends to eat off the menu from time to time, which is rendered possible by his wife's long sojourns in İstanbul. Transgressions are to be expected, it seems, and the wife may or may not turn a blind eye.

Time apart -- often cited as a reason for collapse of marriages in the world of American celebrities -- seems to be a vital ingredient in many a lengthy matrimony here. So, when Fatih's wife of 25 years, who lives in nearby Fethiye, comes to Antalya, Fatih often has some unmissable appointment in Fethiye.

If the pendulum must swing, then the young, 30-something, professional couple from İstanbul who are inseparable outside of work, must be at the other end of it. The wife forbids her hubbie to socialize or travel without her -- unless it's for work. Oddly, he seems happy to comply.

Simin admits her husband of 30 years is of the good sort, who has been a loving father and a providing husband yet she wishes he had noticed her more. What can you do, she says, marriage isn't easy. They are now grandparents twice over, which fills them both with pure joy.

Zeynep and Kerem, from a village in the south, were awkward teenagers when their parents arranged their platonic engagement of two years. Fifteen years later, with two squabbling teenagers, they are happy, hardworking but poor.

Fatoş, an entrepreneur in her 50s, whose husband gives her a constant headache and ruins her holidays, dismisses any idea of leaving him with a gesture that means something like, “Oh, that's just more trouble that I could do without.” She advises me to stay single.

Add to the above much time spent with realms of the extended family, oodles of shared warmth, laughter and love -- except when serious mitigating factors such as money or drinking problems or beatings exist -- and last, but absolutely on pain of death not least: children. Children. Children. The magic ingredient and why there is so much eagerness to sign up to the institution in the first place.

Yes, they recognize that marriage is an institution; they recognize it's difficult, sometimes impossible. They know it's not always based on love; they will divorce if they really want to, or can, but ultimately, and this is reflected in their healthy birth rate, they are doing it to produce the next generation and deepen their family bond.

So, it is clear for all Turkish eyes to see that, if one is “bekar,” babeless and fancy-free in one's 30s, then one is failing miserably to fulfill the fecund role which society requires of one -- isn't that so, young Westerner?!

* Are you single? Is she single? Why is she single?