ordinarypoet.blogspot.com

"Come down here, closer to me! Now you talk to me. Is it your culture to talk to someone from far away?" The man was obviously offended, and he made no effort to conceal it.

Very reluctantly, I gave an apologetic smile and walked down the steps into the shop. I had enquired about something that was being sold on to of the steps, and it did not cross my mind to go down first. Although I did not enjoy being lectured about my social etiquette on only my second day in Istanbul, I was still quietly embarrassed to have been told off like that. Admittedly, he had a point - I should have been a little more polite.

Nevertheless, my ego didn't surrender immediately. How arrogant of him, whispered my pride. Coupled with stories that I heard about Turkish men who apparently constantly harass female tourists, this man did not give me the best first impression of the Turkish people.

Over the next few days, I would come to realize how wrong I was, in the very same store, albeit by another man - the shopkeeper himself.

***

Sameed was his name (the spelling could be wrong though). The shopkeeper was probably in his late 30s and he spotted a well-trimmed beard, much like many other Turkish men. A jolly-looking fellow, and despite not having the most perfect set of teeth, he always greeted us with an honest, welcoming smile. "You again! How are you today?", he would later exclaim, and after learning of our nationality, he would sometimes greet us with the slightly more familiar "Assalamualaikum."

JW and I were often greeted with konichiwa, followed by anyong-haseyo, followed by ni hao. Haha, at times it was pretty amusing to see them try to guess where we were from - they seemed to have quite a bit of fun themselves doing just that. Personally, I think they must have found it intriguing that we weren't either Japanese, Korean or Chinese!

There were quite a few instances when the locals made an effort to stop whatever they were doing to have brief conversations with us. They weren't trying to sell or promote anything; all they wanted in exchange was to know where we were from, and how best they could greet a Malaysian (I decided on apa khabar, which they then repeated delightfully). And with just that, they would happily wish us well as we went on our way.

What surprised me even more was that when locals noticed that we looked a little lost, or were having some difficulty finding our way, they would readily come over to ask if we needed some help. And it was generous help which we would receive, no strings attached. Sometimes, the feeling was slightly surreal.

Throughout my time in Istanbul, I constantly reflected on my earlier reservations and prejudices about the Istanbul locals, and really, just strangers in general. I have been raised to believe that as a rule-of-thumb, you do not trust strangers and that generally, people do not extend a helping hand without expecting something in return. While it is true that there was once or twice that the generosity seemed suspicious, but more often than not, it was very real.

In a few days, I discovered that there was a Sameed somewhere, everywhere I went in Istanbul. Sometimes you have to look for it, sometimes they come to you. The point was, the same kind of genuine friendliness that Sameed showed us was almost as ubiquitous among the Turkish people as the their bright flag was among their streets. I realized that there was much to be learned about people on this trip.

Every day, I would have an encounter which would make me wonder how exactly did we turn out this way, so cynical and hesitant to trust a fellow human being. Well, I knew the reasons of course, and as I mentioned earlier, I had heard real stories of very dodgy encounters with the locals in Istanbul. But the generosity with which I was greeted in Istanbul, at least most of the time, was real too. I could not discredit it just because it was more convenient to go with what I was fed as a child.

Speaking of childhood, it's ironic that on one of the days when we walked through the local neighbourhood near the old Byzantine walls, we bumped into a bunch of enthusiastic, energetic Turkish kids. Believe it or not, people have even told me not to trust the children in Istanbul, because apparently, some of them are trained to pick your pockets while you're distracted.

Well, thankfully, I was told that after I had left Istanbul, otherwise I would never have had this picture (and I didn't have anything stolen, just in case you were wondering). And it was more than a picture for me, it was a very memorable moment in my time in Istanbul. In fact, I've probably shared it with everyone I was keeping in touch with while I was there. Whatever lessons of distrust I was taught when I was younger, these children certainly didn't go to the same classes with the same teachers. They had no hesitation whatsoever to come and talk to us, even though we were sticking out like sore thumbs in the neighbourhood (we saw no other tourists). They even attempted to start a conversation, with whatever English they knew.

In the end, they gave us their address and asked for us to post the photograph to them. I should really get to that one of these days. I tried to picture myself as a 12-year-old, and whether I would have done the same had I been in their situation.

And then I figured that I would probably never had the opportunity of such a situation when I was their age. It made me a little sad to think of it.

***

These new encounters healed some of that confidence in the better side of people which has taken quite a beating in my lifetime. It reminded me of what Muhammad Yunus wrote which I read recently, and it was the idea that human beings have an innate desire to do good. While I find Yunus's beliefs in general exceedingly (and sometimes shockingly) idealistic, I do agree that at some level, human beings have an intrinsic want to do good things, if you like.

I was really glad and, at times, moved to have been treated so well by the locals in Istanbul. It certainly made my trip a lot smoother. But more importantly, it taught me a very important lesson. We live in a society where we're too preoccupied with what we could lose. Consequently, we try our very best to protect ourselves from that loss, and we build a great wall. It protects us well, but as the distance between us as individuals magnifies, we become suffocated as a people. We become trapped.

Being in Istanbul, being surrounded by that atmosphere of honesty and openness, I relearned that a little bit of faith never hurt anyone. We have very little to lose if we believe in it just a little bit more.

The tragedy is that we hardly even bother trying, and therein lies the biggest loss of all.

***