Turkish Wedding - Part One (bureaucracy)

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Hoop 1 - Statement of Single Status

Levent and I went to Turkey in August 2004 to get married. We arrived a few weeks early to organize everything. I’m not talking about flowers here. There were quite a few bureaucratic hoops to jump through. The first stop was at the US Consulate in Ankara. I really like Ankara, mostly because Levent’s sister and her family lives there and every time we stay there, I have a great time. It’s a very modern city without being too congested or crowded. There’s lots of open space, and there are plenty of trees. Ankara is located on a high plateau in central-western Turkey and the weather and topography are similar to Colorado in the US. I wasn’t thrilled about going to the US Consulate, though, because there had been some bombings that summer in Turkey. The terrorists were trying to get international attention, as terrorists tend to do, and so they were targeting high-profile places, mostly tourist-filled areas. A great way to get attention is obviously to target foreign consulates, so I was understandably nervous about being at a US Consulate.

Fortunately, everything was fine. I had an appointment, and my passport was my ticket inside. Levent and my brother-in-law had to wait outside, so I was glad that the consulate did their work quickly. What did I need, you ask? I needed a notarized document saying that I was not married. It also had to say whether or not I had ever been married before. Given that this is not something that the State Department really cares about, it was as simple as me giving my word.

“Are your statements on this document correct and true?” asked the Foreign Service Officer (well, it was something like that anyway - it was four years ago, after all).
“Yes,” I replied.
The Officer smiled in a way that said to me, I know, this is a bit ridiculous given that I don’t know you and you don’t know me and I have no idea if what you’re saying is true, but the Turkish government wants this and so here you are, young lady. Yep, it said all of that. He signed the form and then told me to pick it up from window 4. I walked over to window 4 where a clerk embossed it and handed it to me. First hoop cleared.

An Official Address

The next hoop would prove more complicated, but it makes for a funny story. After spending a week in Ankara (where we bought Levent and his father suits for the wedding), we headed to Denizli. This is where Levent’s parents grew up, have an apartment, and spend half of the year. And it was where we were going to get married. It’s important to know that in Turkey, religious marriages are not accepted by the state as legal marriages. To be officially married, one must be married by a judge, and to be married by a judge, one must talk to the judge and have him write your marriage in the marriage book. Levent’s parents had already reserved a time for our wedding, for the morning of September 4th, but we still had to go to the judge and talk to him and that’s when things got fun.

Imagine a hot auditorium. With a desk. On the desk, sits a giant book full of names. And behind the desk sits a chain-smoking judge in a suit. We waited our turn with a few other couples. It didn’t take too long for them, but the judge took his time with us. As requested, I had brought along my passport, driver’s license, and birth certificate. Levent had brought along his national ID card. Herein began Problem Number One. I didn’t have a National ID card.

(imagine that this conversation is in Turkish)
JUDGE: Where is your National ID card (kimlik)?
ME: In the US, there’s no such thing as a kimlik.
JUDGE: But I need a kimlik.
LEVENT: But there is no kimlik in the US. That is why we brought the passport and driver’s license and birth certificate.
JUDGE: But I need a kimlik.
LEVENT: We can’t get a kimlik if there is no such thing. What exactly do you need?
JUDGE: I need the address of her parents.
ME: It’s 954…
JUDGE: No, I need it on a document.
LEVENT: We don’t have it on an official document. Saskia has been living away from her parents for more than ten years.
JUDGE: Well, I need her parents’ address on an official document. I need to put it in my log.
LEVENT: Well, we can tell you their actual address if you like.
JUDGE: No, I need something that is official. What is this address here on the birth certificate?
ME: It was their address when I was born, but they no longer live there.
JUDGE: This address is good. We will use this address.

And so the judge put down in an official ledger the address of the little house my parents owned when I was born. We left that house in 1979, but that was of no consequence. Being official was apparently more important than being correct. Amazingly, a quick check on Google Earth shows that the road still exists… the house, however, does not. But in memory of that sweet little house, its long-forgotten address is on our entry in the wedding log in Denizli Turkey.
Do you think we’re done yet? No. The judge was in the market for a… small personal donation, it seems. And since he hadn’t gotten one yet, there were more hoops.

Language Problems - or not

JUDGE: I need you to get a translation of this driver’s license.
LEVENT: I can translate it for you, but there’s nothing to translate.
JUDGE: I need it translated, officially.
LEVENT: But it doesn’t say anything but name, address, height, weight, and eye color. That’s all. And State of Washington.
JUDGE: I need an official translation. Here is a translator. . Go there and get a translation.

Understanding that this translator probably “worked with” the judge, and, who knows, may not have been a real translator at all, we decided to find another translator. After waiting an hour for the official translation OF MY DRIVER’S LICENSE, we went back to the judge with our document. With a sigh, the judge accepted the translation. But, perhaps given that we didn’t use his translator, he found a new job for his buddy.

(conversation in TURKISH)
JUDGE: We will need an interpreter at the wedding.
LEVENT: Why? Saskia knows Turkish.
JUDGE: How do I know she knows Turkish?
LEVENT: You’ve been talking to her all this time, can’t you see that she understands and speaks Turkish?
JUDGE: But she is not Turkish, how can I be sure?
LEVENT: She’s right here! She’s speaking to you in Turkish!
ME: I speak Turkish! Ask me a question, I can answer you.
JUDGE: But she is not Turkish.
LEVENT: I’m Turkish, how do you know I speak Turkish? Maybe I grew up in the United States and never learned Turkish.
JUDGE: But you’re Turkish.
LEVENT: That doesn’t mean I have to speak Turkish.
JUDGE: We should get an interpreter.
ME: I can speak and understand Turkish, we really don’t need an interpreter.
LEVENT: Perhaps you would like to talk to my uncle, who is a former politician? He can help you decide what to do. (note: Levent strongly dislikes using connections to get things done, but we really wanted to get married)
JUDGE: We don’t need an interpreter after all. Congratulations. See you on September 4th.

In all honesty, I was so nervous and excited during our state-sanctioned wedding ceremony that I didn’t understand most of what the judge said (yep, it was the same guy), but an interpreter wouldn’t have helped. I knew what I was agreeing to. Still, don’t tell the judge.

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Photos

The Judge in Red
The Judge wore Red (picture from the ceremony)

Comments

[Gonca Baş]

Fıkra Gibi
Merhaba Saskia, Gerçekten fıkra gibi yada şaka gibi bir hikaye kısacası trajikomik:)))+:(((( Neyseki aksilikler bukadarıyla kalmış, sizin adınıza sevindim daha vahim durumlar da olabilir, dedikleri gibi; burası Türkiye. Sevgiler

[Aunt Marilyn]

Too Funny!!!
Good story Saskia! It's true, that truth is stanger than fiction. Have you been writing any more? This sounds like the beginning of an intersting book. The difference in cultures is so interesting. Love, Aunt Marilyn