The second half

We have now passed the ‘half-way’ mark here in Izmir: four Sundays left before we return to England. It will be strange to worship in a church where everyone is British, and no longer to be saying ‘It’s only 33 C today’ (it was 40 yesterday at 6 pm.)

We had a rare treat on Saturday, when the Turkish-speaking church had organised a praise concert in St John’s with Graham Kendrick (whose songs are very popular here.) We’d never seen him before, and it was great to hear him lead a packed church in mostly ‘golden oldies’ – but also to lead prayer and worship with sensitivity. We were afraid our Sunday morning service with 20 people and a music group of pianist and two violinists might feel an anti-climax, but – whilst it was very different – it was also a good experience. But we will long remember the enthusiasm and joy with which the Saturday evening congregation sang ‘Shine, Jesus, Shine’ (in Turkish.)

Although the Anglican congregation is small, it has an important role to play, we believe. Its (very English) church building is (as we have said before) in a visible and prominent position, and is a resource for a number of smaller Turkish evangelical churches, for weddings and events like the Kendrick service. With more effort, there must be opportunities of contacting many more English speakers in Izmir, with its industries, universities and NATO base. It could also appeal to those (English and Turkish) who value a more liturgical and sacramental approach to worship.  Finally, it is close to the busy port, with all the possibilities of developing ministry to the seafarers.

Certainly continuing prayer for Turkey is needed, as there is a lot of anxiety beneath the surface. Many are concerned about the apparent enthusiasm with which military, judicial and educational establishments are being ‘cleansed’, and there is much uncertainty about what the shape of future political developments will be. Two of the three English language newspapers we have found seem to follow the official line unquestioningly, so it is hard to find out what is really happening. We have both received SMS texts on our mobile phones from the ruling AK Party over the (nationalised) phone network, calling for ‘support for democracy’; every evening there are public gatherings in Konak Square, where the Town Hall is festooned with national flags and huge banners depicting the President alongside the great Atatürk. Otherwise, Izmir has been very calm and safe.

We have continued to explore the area a little. On Thursday, we took suburban train and bus to Foҫa, a sea port in a lovely setting, some 90 kms to the north-east. This is the site of ancient Phocaea, whose sailors explored the whole Mediterranean, founding colonies, of which the best-known is Marseilles. It’s a pretty town, but not much of the old city remains – apart from a Byzantine/Ottoman fort, and the ruins of Temples of Cybele and Athena. These are being excavated and restored, so are currently closed to the public; but one of Jo’s former pupils had friends working there who kindly met us and took us into the compound. It’s another example of the helpfulness and courtesy of Turkish people. We were delighted to be called a ‘cute couple’ by the girl who showed us round. Previously, meeting Jo’s pupil, her boyfriend had said he would like to be like us when he was old! So we feel good about ourselves.

Another day, we also found the Botanical Garden attached to Ege University – though (not untypically) there were no signposts from the metro, and no notice on the entrance. Without two helpful security guards, who left their posts to point us in the right direction, we would never have found it. Not quite up to Kew Gardens standards, it was still attractive and interesting.

Prayer Points:

1. Please continue to pray for Turkey, and for wise government following the attempted coup.

2. Pray for the church, for the right appointment of a new chaplain, to develop its outreach and improve pastoral care.

3.  Pray for the refugees and asylum seekers, that they will find permanent homes.

4.  For us, that we may use the rest of our time here in a fruitful way.

Jo’s post-script

One of the many pleasures I receive from sharing in Michael’s locum posts is the way we experience, even if only briefly, the life of the local community: not only through worship, pastoral work and church life, but also some of the everyday happenings. Our experiences in French and German chaplaincies have been close to UK life, but things have been a bit more distinctive, the further east we have gone.

So, in Corfu we had to collect drinkable water from public taps near the church, and we soon got used to bagging up all refuse – including used toilet paper – and adding that to the overflowing bins on the roadside. We also became accustomed to the constantly growing population of stray cats that frequented these.

Here in Turkey, drinking water is obtained, either by adding purifying tablets to tap water, or by ordering 25 litre containers of water from a local supplier – though we still haven’t worked out how the telephone ordering system works and we end up going to the depot and showing them our address. Fortunately our sixth-floor flat is served by a lift – except when the electricity is cut. This has happened twice – once because a bill had not been paid, though at least then we had lights and air-conditioning in the flat. After the second cut, when we had no power at all and which lasted two hours, we discovered that this is a regular occurrence in Turkey. So now we know. But going up and down steep winding stairs in total darkness is no fun.

A small job I have given myself is to occasionally sweep the entrance hall, when the accumulation of dried leaves, dust, handbills and dead cockroaches gets too much for me. This gets added to our plastic bags of rubbish which I take to the nearby bins. At least these are emptied daily, by a man who has one of the most horrendous jobs I have seen – sorting out all this rubbish by hand, so that the many plastic bottles, beer cans and cardboard are placed in separate containers on his hand-cart. He is always surprised, and pleased, when we greet him with ‘günaydın’ (good morning).

Then, there are the tranquil stray dogs, which have been ‘de-masculinised’ and spend their days mostly sleeping in the heat on the grass of the Kordon (promenade); when we walk there before breakfast we also see men fishing hopefully – and often catching little except plastic bags (of which there are far too many, with other refuse, in the sea.) We also see people (presumably refugees from Syria or Iraq) sleeping out on benches or on the grass. In the morning, we see the occasional runners and cyclists; in the evening, it is thronged with people walking and taking selfies against the background of the sun setting behind the Aegean.