Spinning Head, Twirling Trees, and Whirling Mevlevi

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Konya, Turkey



August 4^th 2014



“Either seem as you are or be as you seem”

Hazrat Mevlana Mohammed Jalal al-Din (Rumi)



Unlike most of my travel in Turkey to date, coming to Konya was a premeditated plan. I had an appointment with the Mevlivi (aka the 'Whirling Dervishes' which is a western appellation). There was something drawing me to this place, one of the longest continually habitated cities in the world, and perhaps the 'holiest' place in Turkey.

My first and lasting impression of Konya was that it is a city that knows itself and its place in the world. A prosperous centre, it has a proud and long history, and of course at its heart is the heritage and ever-presence of Mevlana (Rumi).

A dervish is actually a Muslim sufi ascetic, often travelling around the countryside being supported by the faithful, not unlike a saddhu in Hinduism. The Mevlivi derive from their 13^th century founder and sufi saint and poet, Mevlana (Rumi). Rumi, who was probably Persian, settled in Konya where he became the head of a medrese. The belief is that Rumi would stroll in the gold market and get inspired by artisan's hammering to start a slow meditative dance, which developed into a prayerful trance as he started swirling around in ecstasy. This form of union with god became formalised over time into the Mevlivi dance tradition. Today it has become exploited in places like Istanbul as a 'tourist show' business. But in Konya, the real thing goes on, and the government (maybe also for ulterior motives) has patronised the Mevlana tradition through the building of a huge modern Mevlana Cultural Centre where every Saturday night the Mevlivi do their thing (for free). Meanwhile Konya is steeped in Mevlana tradition, both for tourist development (as witnessed by the numerous restaurants and hotels and other businesses bearing the name) and Muslim pilgrimage. Rumi is revered here as the saint he was, and an impressive Mevlana Museum hosts his tomb.

My tooth had been sensitive for about a month. I had it checked by a Georgian dentist friend who declared there was nothing to worry about (a bit like the advice I got about my little Georgian saga from my translator on the night I entered Georgia, but that's another story – see previous blogs). A week later on the eve of catching the bus from Sivas to Konya, I was in considerable pain. So on arrival and after checking in to a hotel in Konya, I went out in search of a dentist. I randomly asked Mumek, the owner of a restaurant, if he knew one. Two referrals, several cays, and a phone call later to various cousins, I was being led by Yuksel (a carpet seller) to his friend Cuneyt, a dentist. It was Cuneyt's day off, but he attended the surgery just for me. And so it goes in Turkey.

Two hours later and I had completed root therapy, my jaw was completely numb, and I had been given a new filling. Cuneyt and I sat for some time chatting away (albeit with my numb jaw), before I eventually paid the bill of 330 TL (a bargain).

Next day and it was time to attend the Mevlivi. I had to check my cynicism in response to the plush new 'Mevlana Cultural Centre' complete with huge posters of the Turkish Prime Minister and local Mayor boasting their patronage in getting this place built. The auditorium is huge and replete with 'state of the art' lighting and sound acoustics. But despite all, once the Mevlivi entered the arena, I was taken to a place of bliss and tranquillity. The 'swirling' is not as fast as I had expected, but just right in its hypnotic impact. The beat and drone of the accompanying musicians perfects the illusion of heaven on earth. The reverence and centredness of the Mevlivi shone through. The practice of Mevlana dance, as it has evolved into a strict discipline, is called Sama. It was borne out of spiritual ecstasy and exuberance, firstly as a spontaneous outpouring without any certain method or ceremony. Later it was systematised to become Sama, the 'Noble Ceremony'. The followers of Rumi became a formal 'lodge' with codes and set practices for living and organising their practice (Sama being just one manifestation of their devotion to god). I left the 2 hour and 4 part Sama floating, and walked back to the city and my hotel in my own kind of trance.

Yuksel fancied his chances at selling me a carpet. I was totally resistant but..... it is interesting how this works. Either due to the 'relationship' formed, or the simple planting of the idea “there is a carpet here whose destiny lies with you”, there is something that works away at you over some days. I hung around his shop over the next 5 days, meeting his friends Saleem, Abdullah, Gyigi and others who came and went fleetingly. By day 5 we were sitting having lunch on a beautiful prayer carpet that Yuksel said he would sell me for just US $50. I have to say I thought a lot about it and by the next day, as it was soon to be my daughter's 25^th birthday, I was ready to 'possibly' do a deal on a smaller cheaper carpet. But by the time this 'possibility' has arisen, you might as well give it up. And it turned out that the $50 offer was just a joke – that particular carpet was more like $250 (although Yuksel cheekily said had I agreed there and then he would have “given it away” for just $50), and the one I finally settled on cost me $80 plus postage ($25). It's just money, but Yuksel had triumphed as carpet sellers often do.

Yuksel and all his friends were around 32 years old, had either grown up together or been friends for years in Konya, and were all bachelors. They seemed to me to be racing against time, with their bodies not as trim as they might have been 10 years ago, and their eagerness to 'score' with tourist women a little overdone with bravado (perhaps hanging on former exploits of past glory days). It was all a bit sad and Yuksel confessed (as I think the others would have too) that he would like to marry.... but preferably not to a Turkish girl. He wanted a ticket out of Turkey.

Saleem worked for a Turkish/Danish film company as a caster. He was a gentle guy, and after our first meeting in Yuksel's shop he had invited me to attend a special breakfast in the street where his family home was in memory of his grandmother who had died three months before. There must have been about 200 people there, with a makeshift street kitchen using huge pots to prepare various dishes that were then shared in circles of about 8 people (men and women very separate).

Abdullah was a gregarious and funny Kurdish guy and a bit of a lad. His business was buying and selling real estate. He showed the most exuberance in fancying his chances with foreign tourist women. He was the sort of guy who you enjoyed having as a friend but who you would not introduce to your daughters. When I met him in Yuksel's shop, he was excited about having spent time with a French tourist who now had his Whatsapp contact... and he was expectantly waiting for her to make the next move. It never happened.

Gyigi was a quiet, shy, and extremely good looking student of drama, and wanted to be a drama teacher. While obviously the least extrovert or misogynist of the group, he would no doubt have had the best chances to 'score' women. He told me he had sat in a bus all the way from Istanbul with a beautiful Spanish women but was too shy to speak English with her.

Apart from the dentist (where I had to revisit after some subsequent tooth pain and sensitivity) and Yuksel's shop, I spent my time in Konya wandering around the markets and back-streets, writing and sleeping (and it was so hot inside my room that I would spread blankets on the landing outside my window, crawl through, and sleep out there at night), and preparing food in my room (soaked muesli and salads).

I visited the small historic village of Sille on the outskirts of Konya. It had a mountainside of old cave dwellings next to the village itself which was full of old and restored stone and wooden buildings. I mused how after the magnificence of Gomre in Kappadochia, even caves like this were seemingly ordinary. But Sille is significant for its peaceful coexistence between Greeks and Turks for over 800 years up to the 1922 expulsion of Greeks from Turkey based on religion. It is said that Mevlana (Rumi) witnessed a miracle at the nearby monastery of Saint Chariton, and constructed a small mosque in its grounds. Mevlana requested that the Turks never hurt the Greeks of the village, and assigned to the Greek villagers the task of cleaning his own tomb. The Turks respected his commandment.

Wandering around Sille was peaceful.... hardly anyone about, and just a sense of being. I meandered back to the main road, and found a kid about 12 trying to do overarm (we like to call it 'Australian Crawl') in one of the dammed lengths of the canal that runs through the middle of town. It was hot so I decided, as you do, to join him. Before long there were half a dozen kids and it was instruction time, trying to get them to blow out under water, bend their elbows, and dig deep and straight with their cupped hands to pull themselves along efficiently. While they probably won't be qualifying for the next Turkish Olympic Swimming Team, a couple of them did make some progress in improving their style. Sadly, at the end of the lesson, several held out their hands and demanded “money”. Well, if it works even once, it becomes the thing to do with tourists. It did not work with me.

Back in Konya, I had my first Turkish haircut.. which in my case is a No. 1 all over head and beard job. I thought 15 TL was a bit steep (vs 6 GEL in Georgia which is about 8 TL). But what I was amazed at (and perhaps it made up for some of the price) was having my ear hair singed off using a flaming large cotton bud that had been dipped in some blue flammable stuff (could it have been kero?). It worked a treat, and was done very skilfully.

I spent my last morning in the Mevlana Museum Centre (which also houses Mevlana's tomb). Being prone to either not noticing signs or not understanding them, I started taking pictures of the tomb itself (because it was surrounded by beautiful decor and I did not actually realise it was Mevlana's tomb), only to have a security guy yell across the crowd that photography was forbidden. Got some nice shots none-the-less.

I left Konya with a good feeling... a feeling that I would return one day.

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Photos

Aziziye Mosque
Next to my lodgings in Aziziye Oteli

Mevlana Muzesi
Even the trees are swirling

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Whirling
I would love to see this