Thursday, November 15, 2007

Threads Sahure

Living an unorthodox life can sometimes label you as a cowboy, hippie, gypsy, wanderer, bum, adventurer, non-conformist etc.. There is no shortage of titles people can lay at your feet, some good, some not so good....some deserved, most of them misunderstood. I can't rationally explain why we have fallen into this life of Living on the Far Side of the World, but I can offer you this; it is all about relationships.
Those relationships are now going to have their own forum at SilkRoadNomads.com; Threads is a new column that will be published as whimsy dictates. It will introduce you to the people we meet along the Silk Road and (we hope) eventually weave a picture that will bring you a new appreciation for the culture, people and traditions of High Asia.
Bayan Sahure

Sahure is the mother of Reyhan (Ann's best friend). Widowed she now lives between two homes in Istanbul, her own home in Umraniye and Reyhan's home one door away from ours in Kazasker. She has been living with Reyhan for the last few months and has become a dear part of our family.
Over the past year we have shared countless meals and hundreds of cups of ├žay with her and have grown to love her...she treats us like we were her own grandchildren...and to my advantage, cooks for me constantly. Even though she has slowed down considerably she takes the time to make special Turkish dishes for me each week and spends the rest of her time crocheting delicate lace tablecloths and traditional head scarves.
Sahure's Lace

Last week Ann found her at the kitchen table making borek and dolma (two of my favorites). A few hours later she sent down a plate of a dozen finger size dolma, (grape leaves stuffed with rice, nuts and spices all rolled up tightly) followed by another plate of sweets.
While I love her food it is her kindness and gentleness that have won us over, always happy and cheerful and never complaining...she is a point of light in Istanbul.
Reyhan and her mother, Sahure

Footprint
A month ago Sahure was spending the evening with us in our apartment. When the call to prayer rang out from the local Mosque...she limped down our hallway, took our prayer rug and laid it on our bedroom floor and knelt down to pray. Watching this woman who had been born under the fading shadow of the Ottoman Empire kneel on the floor of my home, open her hands to heaven, and pray to Allah brought me full circle...Life is amazing when you Live, Travel and Wander on the Far Side of the World.

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Living, Traveling, and Wandering on the Far Side of the World

Living, Traveling, and Wandering on the Far Side of the World