Should we circumcise this guy, or should we finish these strawberries?

I’m having trouble imagining another situation like the one I faced yesterday where the same sentence could mean two totally different things.  The imam I was interviewing hollered something out to the mosque’s barber about either circumcising me and making me a Muslim or finishing off a carton of strawberries.  Considering the statement came from an imam who moments before had asked if I was a Muslim, you’d think it’d be a safe bet to go with the first meaning (he was also talking to someone who cuts things for a living).  On the other hand, there was a dwindling supply of strawberries in front of us that the barber had brought over, making the second meaning a strong candidate.  So which was it, circumcision or strawberries?  I probably wouldn’t be writing about this if I’d decided correctly.

Barbershop Burlesque

First, let me back up.  I’ve had my hair cut twice at the mosque barbershop since writing about it earlier.  The first time I entered the small space in the corner of the teahouse there were two barbers and a few customers all around my age.  No one said much to me at first, and I wondered if it had to do with a poster on the door that showed a section of the Berlin wall with the words “Nur für mitglieder” [Members only] spray painted on it.  Eventually one of the barbers addressed me as Jakob, to which I said “Excuse me?” in Turkish.  He said that I looked like a German friend of his, but I felt like he was using a generic name for me because I was clearly a “foreigner.”  After I gave him my standard story about being an American and married to a Turk, the other barber chimed in, calling me brother-in-law and making jokes about how Turks both love and beat up their brothers-in-law.  It sounds like a hostile thing to say in English, but he was clearly joking around.  And being called a brother-in-law by Turks is pretty standard when they learn I’m married to a Turkish woman.

Since we were on the subject of marriage, the jokester barber asked me if it’s true that same-sex marriages are legal in the U.S.  I said that it’s allowed in at least one state, to which he responded, “Then can you find me a man to marry so I can get a U.S. visa?”  I was a little surprised to hear that joke in a mosque complex, but I just laughed and marveled at his opportunism.  I said I’d look into it for him, but something tells me U.S. immigration policy ain’t quite ready for that yet.

Next, as so often happens when religious Turkish guys learn that I’m married to a Turk and researching Islam, the subject of circumcision came up.  Islam requires Muslim boys to be circumcised, and in Turkey, that usually happens when a boy is between the age of 4 and 9.  The ritual is celebrated with big parties and the boys typically wear special pasha costumes.  (I’ve been told, suggestively, that they’re available in all sizes.)  Suffice it to say that many jokes, with far too much use of the word “ax,” were made in the barbershop that day.  Indeed, every time I see the barber now, we’ll either make a joke about circumcision or finding him a husband.

Word to your Imama

All that background was to set the scene for what happened yesterday.  An imam, a barber, an American, and a bunch of strawberries were all sitting in a teahouse.  In walked the Turkish word sünnet.  (This word, sunnah in Arabic, means both circumcision and “the way of the Prophet,” as in the deeds and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad.  It has nothing to do with strawberries.)  All of a sudden, the imam turned toward the barber seated some 30 feet away, made an ambiguous gesture in the direction of both me and the strawberries, and said, “Shall we sünnet this?”  I honestly thought he was talking about the strawberries at first, but then I suspected he was in on the joke with the barber and had gotten comfortable enough with me during our interview to propose making me one of the guys.  The barber’s “Of course!” didn’t clear things up, so I just said the first thing that came to mind:

“The majority of American men are circumcised.”

Raised eyebrows.

“Oh….really?  Well…hmm…that’s a good thing.  There are many advantages to it,” said the imam.

Laughter started wafting over from the barber’s direction and I realized that I’d gotten it wrong.  Much to the barber’s delight and the imam’s confusion, our joking around had caused me to miss the imam’s meaning, which was something like, Can we finish these off (in an auspicious or righteous way)?  As the imam caught on, and I realized my gaffe, we both chuckled along with the barber.

In the end, it wasn’t terribly embarrassing and I didn’t kick myself over my language skills because the Turkish was actually the same for both meanings–that’s what was so odd.  I’m writing about this because I’m just amazed at the singular chain of events that conspired to produce that moment:  the right venue, the right actors, the right words, the right neurons, and so on.

How do you translate “synchronicity” into Turkish?

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