Margaret Özemet
>The çingene were near
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| Tor Dahlin @ Fogged Clarity |
Margaret Özemet @ Anderbo reflects on encountering a gypsy in Turkey.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )A girl’s green eyes met mine as we exchanged the standard greeting, “Merhaba”—welcome. Immediately she returned her eyes to the walking trail. The Turkish heat was setting in and my son’s nap-time was approaching. It was jarring to meet another person on the beaten dirt path behind our building as my son and I returned home to the shelter of our apartment following our morning walk. Our family lives in company housing; usually we see only workmen. Her green T-shirt was wet with perspiration. The girl’s headscarf barely covered her dark hair; its floral pattern highlighted her dark skin. The edges of her long skirt were ragged—it was most likely her only skirt, a cast-off from her too-young mother. Fuchsia sandals made of cheap plastic were the only protection her feet had from the rocks and snakes in the olive grove where she and her family were working, next to the water treatment plant.
She tried to hide the jug of water as we passed. It was close to 109 degrees out and it was not yet noon. How could I be angry that she’d sneaked over the fence for water from our tap? We live at the water treatment plant; here water is plentiful.
altimoniere 