Games and the gamers

We did so last week on a day when it was warm enough to sit outside under the spread of the magnificent 400-year-old plane tree.

Of the 20 or so tables of the tea house, maybe two were empty and 12 were being used by very serious men drinking tea and playing tea house table-games; tavla, okey, dominoes and whatever card games are indigenous. One or two of the tables were the venues for business meetings where men only a little less serious than the gamers were waving pieces of paper at each other and occasionally bursting into anger or laughter.

To join any of those tables was out of the question of course (though in the past, on the several occasions when we had met there for business, we have been joined by inquisitive villagers). We asked the muhtar, who never plays at the tables, if we might join him. He welcomed us and we shook hands with Normal Nuri, Mustafa Taxi (pronounced as a four-word sentence by European settlers), Fat Achmet with his dopey son who seems not to have a name and also a chap we hadn’t met before called Bülent.

It seemed that Bülent had recently returned to the village after many years at sea and so the muhtar, with frequent help from the rest of the gang, explained us to him. The speed at which they spoke suggested that they would rather that we didn’t understand a lot of what was being said, but the hand gestures and the outbursts of laughter gave some clues and I’m sure we are not accused of anything more serious than innocent foolishness. Bülent enquired as to our origins and, hearing our answers, was soon telling us of his love of Liverpool, Southampton, Hamburg and other ports that we had in common. We have had similar conversations in the most remote villages throughout Greece and Turkey; lovely.

Village news

It turned out that there was very little village news of any worth, and I contemplated, purposely for this column, the very special tea house culture of the Mediterranean countries.

In England, where I have lived about half of my life, a lot of leisure time outside of the home resolves around “the pub.” Pubs do some business during the day, but the main business is during the late evening and into the early hours of the night. In the village pub, men women, and I believe children these days, participate in the consumption of drink, both alcoholic and otherwise, eat simple meals and talk. Talk is the essence of the pub. I would estimate, however, that about half the pubs in England have a dart board where two, four or sometimes more people may play that simple game. Other pubs may have a “shove-ha’penny” board or some derivation of the skittles game. Games are a very minor part of pub life in England. My travels lead me to believe that things are not too dissimilar in most of northern Europe; chat is the thing. The Irish word craic, “the crack,” is probably more accurate. The Mediterranean preoccupation with table games also seems to extend to the Caribbean and some of the Latin American countries. I wonder why?

Climate must be a factor; that one can sit out in the sun slapping one’s tiles, counters or cards onto the table contrasts somewhat with the cold nights of, for instance, Scotland, where huddling round a peat fire hugging a glass of warming whisky and reciting Burns seems entirely natural.

I’ll skim over leisure-centered games in Germany in an effort to avoid controversy, but it occurs to me that shooting is another male-dominated pastime. Where are the ladies’ knitting competitions?

That last sentence may sound a little condescending, so I’ll now throw in that Frau beats me hands down at chess, backgammon and even the children’s game “four-wins.”

At the end of our afternoon at the tea house, I very much regretted our visit. The muhtar is within a year of the village election and has decided not to stand again; a pity because he is a very good muhtar, but typically, he wants to leave something to remind future generations of his period as “mayor.” He wants to build a wedding venue, that is to say a building and garden where grand weddings and wedding receptions [“balls”] can take place. Would I draw up a “project”? Meaning an outline plan to be submitted to the government, regional or above, asking for funds.

I could hardly refuse and foresaw little difficulty until he went into detail. A thousand people? Two floors? Oh dear oh dear! What had I let myself in for? I am to indirectly ask the government for funds to build something comparable to Carnegie Hall or the Barbican in our small valley.

Overwhelmed by the enormity of the task I had let myself in for, I turned my thoughts back to the matter of gaming. In Britain the game of darts is considered a sport, at least by the TV channels and the DRA. Beer-bellied men smoking cigarettes toe up to a line and manage to lob a small projectile (“…no more than 50 grams”) into a target from a distance of several feet (7 feet 9.25 inches, to be precise). In researching that distance I came across the anti-doping rules issued by the Darts Regulation Authority. That august body, concerned about the health of the participants of the “sport” (sic), lays out its rules in a hilarious 35-page document. It is well worth reading, and to tempt you further I quote their definition of an “Attempt.”

“Purposely engaging in conduct that constitutes a substantial step in a course of conduct planned to culminate in the commission of a Doping Offence. Provided, however, there shall be no doping offence based solely on an Attempt if the person renounces the Attempt prior to it being discovered by a third party not involved in the Attempt.”

Huh?

Given then that darts is a sport, I think that our Turkish tea house games should also be so considered. In the same way as the Brits have decided that they set the international darts regulations, I propose that the Turks assume the same responsibility for the sports of tavla, okey and whatever the card game is. We then might form an international group representing pub and tea house game players, formulate a more comprehensive anti-doping policy and dress code “…no denim or corduroy” (I kid you not!) then press for inclusion in the Olympics. Perhaps a separate Olympic village would be needed where smoking would be compulsory and tea drinking encouraged, but beer drinking permitted for infidels only.