Kings for the Day

You know when you learn something new, and then all of a sudden you start noticing it everywhere?

Well, this has been happening to me over a topic that I find humorous: male circumcision in Turkey.

It started the other day when we went to the Sultan’s palace. Rob, the photography teacher, had earlier seen a young boy dressed as a king. Apparently, he’d seen it many times before, as did some of the other students. Naturally, he inquired about it to our tour guide, who luckily spoke English.

The conversation went something like this:

Rob: “So what’s with all these kids dressed up as kings? Is there a festival or parade going on or something?

Tour Guide (after snickering): Ahhh, no…those boys are becoming men when they wear that outfit.

Me: Uhh, what does that mean

Tour Guide (snickers again): Well…he’s getting his…you know…(points to his trousers)…cut off…

Rob: Ahhhh (nods in understanding) circumcision.

It was one of those moments where I was completely blindsided. It didn’t really process at all at first. I just stood there for a moment, trying to sort this information out in my head. Unfortunately, I have the habit of being unable to contain my thoughts, and through my verbal diarrhea I muttered, “Wait so…they dress like a king to get their foreskin cut off?”

Luckily, Rob is good-natured, and our tour guide was awesome. They both got a good laugh out of it, and managed to take any awkward edge off the conversation.

“Well, yeah!” said the tour guide.

The conversation (shockingly) continued, and somehow weaved into our tour guide talking about his personal circumcision story.

“I was so proud all day, my family had a party for me, I got lots of candy and gifts. Everyone was so proud I was becoming a man. The doctor had this white van, and he only came into town when he had to do a circumcision. If you saw the white van, you knew he was in town. The second I saw that van come down the road, I tried to run away. It took two or three relatives to catch me and contain me.”

And that was the day our tour guide became a man.

The conversation ended soon after, and I forgot what I had learned about the Turkish ritual of male circumcision.

That is, until a tram ride about an hour ago. I had been at an Internet cafe working on my soccer story edits. Erin and I decided to go home, and while we were seated on the tram, two young boys were dressed in, sure enough, attire worthy of a king. It was one of those moments I resented myself for not purchasing a new camera.

They were wearing all white suits with little gold buttons and gold fringe. They each had a white top hat with a golden ribbon complete with a vertical white feather. To really emphasize the “king attire”, they each carried a golden wand and had a white satin cape, also with feathers and gold ornaments.

To my happy surprise, they chose the seat right in front of us. I sat there for a moment looking from boy to boy, and Erin nudged me and pointed at them.

In my mind, I knew what they were dressed for. Alas, I had just learned about this lovely tradition just days ago. But, I knew Erin didn’t know. She seemed puzzled by the costumes, but I wasn’t about to start whispering to her about how they were entering manhood.

So, I carefully planned out in my head exactly how I was going to maneuver this situation. I had remembered the tour guide mentioned many boys did it on their birthdays. It was perfect: I had “the in”.

The man standing with them, whom I assume was a fatherly figure, had previously smiled at us as he walked by. He seemed nice enough, so I simply asked him, while pointing to the boys’ outfit, “Birthdays?”

He didn’t miss a beat, didn’t shift in discomfort or dart his eyes awkwardly. The guy hardly bat an eyelash until he said, very matter-of-factly, “Oh, no. He’s getting his…I don’t know how you say it…(points to trousers).”

I opened my eyes widely and nodded, pretending to be delighted by this, hoping Erin understood. She clearly didn’t, and looked to me for an explanation. The man looked at me and said, “How you say in English?”

My mind works in mysterious ways. Looking back, I’m shocked at how I handled the situation. Instead of whispering the answer, I decided to just come out with it, keeping the non-awkward momentum of the conversation. “Circumcision!” I said loudly.

I heard two men chuckle, yet no one else seemed at all shocked by my announcement of the word. And, of course, it turned out the two men chuckling were American, at least, their accents sounded like it.

I went on to explain to Erin what the tour guide had told me. The great thing about Erin is she’s very open-minded to these things. I think we both realized that since we were in a different culture, it would not be appropriate to express our own feelings towards a 9-year-old dressed as a king, on his way to get his foreskin cut off.

Instead, we both talked about how it was such an interesting and sensical way to grow into manhood. The man, picking up bits and pieces of our conversation, seemed delighted that we shared his enthusiasm of the procedure. He even waved to us as we exited the tram, and we waved back.

I’m not a boy, so perhaps it is not my right to say this, but in some ways, I think it’s pretty awesome that it’s become such a celebrated event for these boys.

As far as I know, most of my friends who have been circumcised probably don’t remember it, seeing as in America it is within tradition to have it done as a baby.

As I’ve returned home, I’ve been briefly looking up this tradition, and think it’s so interesting. Our tour guide told us most Turkish boys did it, regardless of religion, because it’s become so engrained in their culture. I found this website that was very informative on the tradition, check it out:

http://www.circlist.com/rites/moslem.html