dash

Laughing in Broken Turkish

In my long ago youth when I had long ago hair
And beads round my neck and no care for my clothing,
British, living in Denmark, hitchhiking…
I spent some time in Alanya –
Slept in the Roman ruins, tourists took my picture –
Lived on bread, sardines, tomatoes and olives –
Sold my radio to get money for a boat ride
Five days round the coast back to Istanbul.
Ha ha ha! said the gods, and gave me this adventure:
As I slept on the beach, my American friend
Went through my pack, took that money, and left.
Half awake and too slow, never saw him again.
I went to the jandarma* and told my tale:
Ben uyumak pilaj. Arkadesh amerikani.*       
Arkadesh pfft. Para pfft. Ben para yok.
("Me sleep beach. American friend.
Friend pfft. Money pfft. Me no money.")
Ha ha ha! said the jandarma, and found an interpreter.

So in French I explained to the pharmacist
In more detail, and the jandarma wrote a report.
But what to do? I had no money,
No money for food or for travel to Denmark.
But I had in my pack two Danish porn magazines –
Full colour of all you could imagine.
(In the 70s Denmark was the world’s pre-Internet
Capital of open pornography.)
So I gave them to the police.
Ha ha ha! said the jandarma, and gave in exchange
A meal in the barracks, and a night
In the cheap hotel across the street, and a bus ride
To the nearest city, Antalya,
And a ticket from there overnight to Istanbul.

The next day in Antalya I had hours to wait.
I went to a souk, where all the shopkeepers sat
Drinking coffee, no shoppers around.
One gestured, Your shoes no good, buy shoes from me.
Ben uyumak pilaj, I said. Arkadesh amerikani.
Arkadesh pfft. Para pfft. Ben para yok.
Ha ha ha! said the shopkeeper,
Gave me new secondhand shoes, threw my old ones away.

You come, you come, he said,
Took me to a two-table restaurant,
Got the owner, told me: You say, you say!
I said:
Ben uyumak pilaj. Arkadesh amerikani.
Arkadesh pfft. Para pfft. Ben para yok!
Ha ha ha! said the restaurant owner, and gave me
A bowl of thick soup and some bread.
You come, you come,said the restaurant owner
And took me out the back to his back yard
And called his neighbour to the fence.
You say, you say!
I said, Ben uyumak pilaj. Arkadesh amerikani.
Arkadesh pfft. Para pfft. Ben para yok!
Ha ha ha! said his neighbour, and brought me
A bunch of grapes, a pound of cheese,
Half a loaf of bread.

And so I got back to Istanbul overnight on the bus,
To the British Embassy, borrowed three pounds
From a Finnish athlete, and hitchhiked to Denmark again.
Ha ha ha! said the gods, and they gave me this gift:
Forget grammar and rules and perfection –
Learn a few words, and laugh at yourself,
And the world will laugh with you and help.

* jandarma, gendarmes, military police
*"Arkadesh amerikani". Mispronunciation of arkadaş, friend; Amerikalı, American

Robin Helweg-Larsen

If you have any comments on this poem, 
Robin Helweg-Larsen  would be pleased to hear from you.

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