Hendaye, August 1907.

You ask me to describe the life a Turkish woman leads during Ramazan.

The evenings of Ramazan are the only evenings of the year when she has the right to be out of doors; the time when she seizes every opportunity of meeting her friends and arranging interesting soirÉes; the time when she goes on foot or drives to the Mosques to hear the Imams explain the Word of the Prophet.

Need I remind you, unlike the women of the lower and middle classes, who go out every evening, the more important the family to which a woman belongs, the more difficult is it for her to go out.

It is for the evenings of Ramazan that most amusements are arranged, and our husbands, fathers, and brothers usually patronise the travelling circus, Turkish theatre, performances of Karakheuz.19 The women on their side have their dinners, Oriental dancing, and conversation which lasts deep into the night.

Amongst my most delightful remembrances of Constantinople are the Ramazan visits to St. Sophia and the Chah-zade Mosque. From the height of a gallery reserved for women, which is separated from the rest of the church by a thick wooden lattice-work, hundreds of “Believers” are to be seen, seated on the ground round the Imam, who reads and preaches to them. All the oil lamps are lighted for the thirty days, and the incense burning in the silver brasiers rises with the prayers to Heaven. Not a voice is to be heard save that of the Imam (preacher), and the most wonderful impression of all is that created by the profound silence.

And yet children are there—little ones asleep in their mother’s arms, little girls in the women’s gallery, whilst boys over eight are counted men, and sit beside their fathers on the ground, their little legs tucked under them.

On returning home supper is ready for three o’clock, and an hour later the cannon announce the commencement of a fresh day of fasting. After a short prayer in one’s own room, sleep takes possession of us until late the next day, sometimes until almost four o’clock, when everyone must be up and again ready for the firing of the cannon which gives permission to eat and drink and smoke.

With us fasting20 is more strict than it is in the West. From sunrise to sunset, no one would dare to touch a mouthful of food or even smoke.

When we are lucky enough to have Ramazan during the winter months the fasting hours are shorter, but when it comes in the month of August “Believers” have to fast for sixteen hours, and the labourers suffer much in consequence.

Imagine how long a soirÉe can be, when you begin dinner at half-past four! What must we not think of to amuse our guests, for no one dines alone! The Oriental hospitality demands that every evening friends should assemble, and acquaintances come without even letting you know. When people are known to be rich, the poor and complete strangers come to them to dinner. I remember being at one house which was filled to overflowing with women of all classes, most of whom had never before even seen the hostess.

At the Palaces a special door is built, through which anyone who wants to dine can enter, and after the meal money is distributed. You can understand while this patriarchal system exists there is no reason for the poor to envy the rich. Turkey is the only country in Europe which in this respect lives according to Christ’s teaching, but no doubt in the march of progress all these beautiful customs will disappear.

I have often thought when in a Western drawing-room, where one stays a few minutes, and eats perhaps a sandwich, how different are our receptions in the East. We meet without being invited, talk till late in the night, and a proper supper is served.

It surprises me, too, in the West to meet such poor linguists. In Turkey it is quite usual to hear discussions going on in five European languages without one foreigner being present.

Wait till you have taken part in some of these Ramazan gatherings, and have seen what hospitality really is, then you will understand my rather slighting remarks about your Western society.

*****

I am constantly being asked how a Turkish woman amuses herself. I have a stock answer ready: “That depends on what you call amusement.”

It sounds futile to have to remind my questioners that amusement is a relative quality, and depends entirely on one’s personal tastes. The Spaniards are mad with delight at the sight of a bull-fight—to me it was disgusting; and yet, probably, were those bull-fights to take place in Turkey, I should enjoy them. We used to have in the country exhibitions of wrestling at which whole families were present. Travelling circuses were also a favourite amusement, but during the last years of Hamid’s reign Turkish women have been forbidden the pleasures of going to a travelling theatre and Karakheuz, the most appreciated of all the Eastern amusements.

Tennis, croquet, and other games are impossible for us, neither is rowing allowed: to have indulged in that sport was to expose myself to the criticism of the whole capital.

Although the people of the West are so fond of walking as a recreation, the pleasure that a Turkish woman can obtain from a walk is practically non-existent, and most of us would be insulted if asked, as I have been in Paris, to walk for two hours.

We are fond of swimming, but how is this taste to be indulged when women are only allowed to swim in an enclosed place, surrounded by a high wall? Surely the only charm of swimming is to be in the open sea.

Those who are fond of music have either to go without, learn to play themselves, or take the terrible risk of disguising themselves as Europeans and go to a concert.

Towards 1876 we began playing bezique, but that craze did not last long, and a short time afterwards cards were considered bad form. The Perotes,21 however, still remain faithful to card-playing, and have more than one reason to prefer this pastime to all the others in which they might indulge. Unlike the Perotes, we Turkish women never played cards for money.

You might think from my letters that travelling in the country was quite an ordinary event for women of our class: on the contrary, it is quite exceptional, and perhaps only ten families in all Turkey have travelled as we travelled in our own country.

So you see a Turkish woman is not very ambitious for “amusement” as you Western people understand the word. When she is allowed to travel in foreign countries as she likes, I believe she will be more satisfied with her lot.

All the Turks I have met since I came to Europe are of my opinion, but we shall see what will happen when their theories are put into practice.

Since it has been my privilege to meet my countrymen I have found out what fine qualities they possess. Indeed it is wrong for custom to divide so markedly our nation into two sexes and to create such insuperable barriers between them. We shall never be strong until we are looked upon as one, and can mix freely together. The Turks have all the qualities necessary to make good husbands and fathers, and yet we have no opportunity of knowing even the men we marry until we are married.

How I wish that nine out of every ten of the books written on Turkey could be burned! How unjustly the Turk has been criticised! And what nonsense has been written about the women! I cannot imagine where the writers get their information from, or what class of women they visited. Every book I have read has been in some way unfair to the Turkish woman. Not one woman has really understood us! Not one woman has credited us with the possession of a heart, a mind, or a soul.—Your affectionate friend,

Zeyneb.

*****

The year of 1908 was a year of mourning for Zeyneb and Melek. For them began that bitter period, when a woman has the opportunity of judging independence at its true value, without a father and a substantial income as buffers between them and life.

*****

During that year, too, Melek married.

Zeyneb remained alone.