My Anzac Story…

Australian and Turkish flags flying side by side in Gallipoli Anzac Day signifies many things to many different Australians, mainly in honoring those soldiers who fought for their country and freedom. But to people like me, with both Australian and Turkish heritage, Anzac Day holds different and uniquely complex meanings.

My people, the Australian soldiers, traveled to the serene city of Gallipoli to fight my great-grandfathers.This is my story.Growing up, I was told the stories of friendship, support and courage both my people projected toward one another, shaking hands on Serçe Tepe, the hill that was once a witness to the bloodiest and most gruesome scenes in Gallipoli. I listened to the stories of my great-grandfathers having friendly discussions with the Anzac soldiers during the eight-hour armistice on May 24, when both sides stopped fighting while they collected their dead and wounded. I was reminded of the kind exchanges made between my great-grandfathers and the Anzac soldiers as they threw gifts toward each other from their trenches. My great-grandfathers were humble smokers; they would throw cigarettes at the Anzac’s with the words “to our heroic enemies, take with pleasure” written on them. The Anzacs always responded, first with cans of Bully Beef, then with some sweet biscuits and tins of jam. My great-grandfathers’ sense of humor was present even in times of war, their last message simply being, “Send us some milk.” My grandfather would explain to me in detail what his grandfather had told him when he was growing up. It was the genuine actions of the Anzacs that he would touch on the most. He would tell me the sincerity of one Australian soldier who buried a Turkish soldier placing a wooden cross on the grave with the inscription, “Here lies a Turk.” The Turkish soldier was not a Christian, but he was buried by the Australian soldier in the exact way he would have if it had been one of his own men. It was this genuine act of respect by the Australian soldier that made my grandfather’s eyes water each time he recounted the story to me. It is sad that neither side came to see what would become of those that they left behind; that their great-grandchildren would grow up to live happily together in a country that gives everyone a fair go. I wonder: If they knew, would they have still fought one another? I wonder what they would have done if they’d known that those they’d fight and those they fought for would one day be the same people. I wonder what they would have done if only they knew. My heart aches as I remember both the Johnnies and Mehmets who risked their lives in order to protect mine. So I am one of those people whose Turkish great-grandfather gave an “enemy” Australian soldier a cigarette, who in return offered him a can of Bully Beef. I feel a connection to both the wounded Turkish soldiers and the sunken Australian ships. They are both mine. I hold two passports and two identities. I speak two languages and move between the two cultures that are strong in one heart without having to let go of either. I am one of those people who celebrate Anzac Day wounded from both sides, who feels comfort only in the words of Turkish Commander Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. “Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives, you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore, rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons, as well.” This is me — an Aussie Turk who is commemorating the loss of both her Australian and Turkish great-grandfathers during World War I. Lest we forget…

The Dancing Pen

 

 

Osman Sahin's art as displayed on a plate

 

No one knows dancing like him.  

Swirl, lift, dip.

The routine continues.

Swirl, lift, dip.

 

 This is what Osman Sahin does to relax. Dance. But he is no choreographer, he is a calligrapher—one who has mastered the art of Classical Turkish-Islamic calligraphy for over twenty-five years. He calls his calligraphy style “the dancing of the pen.”
His eyes, eagerly glued to the paper, anticipate his next move. His hands lift with each pen stroke, gliding to the rhythm of his breath, rising with every new thought and slowing to the pace of his heartbeat.

To many of us, calligraphy is merely fancy handwriting used to record information, but to a Turk calligraphy is much more. It is an art—a grand form of art—with its origins dating back many centuries. The Turks refer to calligraphy as Hat (pronounced like “hut”). In its literal sense, Hat means beautiful writing practiced and perfected throughout time as a way to combine spiritual and functional writing with the medium of art.

It is however the spiritual element of Hat that is most striking to viewers. Because the drawing of human figures is not favored in Islam, Muslim artists throughout time have channeled their talents toward the art of calligraphy.

“Hat is all about symmetry, harmony and measurements,” explains Osman Sahin. “It is the dance of the pen and paper. It’s music to the eyes. Hat is like composed music that soothes and refreshes the spirit and brings peace and harmony to the soul. It enables the person to reach inner tranquility.”

The origins of Hat date back to the early Islamic era when manuscripts of the Qur’an were being recorded and handwritten. However, at that time there was little emphasis on the style of writing but greater emphasis on the message being revealed. It was centuries later, during the Ottoman Era, that Turks focused on the style of writing.

It is a common saying among Muslims that “the Qur’an was revealed in Mecca, recited in Egypt and written in Istanbul.” The Ottoman Turks produced and perfected various styles of script that were passed on throughout the Muslim world.
They loved and respected the art of Hat as it flourished in the great city of Istanbul, which was at the time the focal point of the Ottoman State, and it was there that history’s finest works were produced.

Hat has been used throughout Turkey in enchanting ways to decorate palaces, mosques, museums and fountains for many centuries. The renowned Spanish artist Pablo Picasso, referring to the art produced by Muslim calligraphers during the Andalusian period, said, “Muslim calligraphers five hundred years ago reached where I want to reach today.” In present-day Turkey, there are over twenty million artwork treasures that bear witness to this history.

The beauty present in Islamic-Turkish calligraphy is said to be a direct reflection of the inner soul of the calligrapher. As Osman Sahin himself says, “Whenever I am stressed, I pick up my pen and draw. This is because the art of Hat has a therapeutic aspect to it. During the Ottoman era, some of the sick were treated by using fine arts like Hat together with soothing Sufi music and the art of Ebru (water marbling) drawing.”

This extraordinary art form can only be executed with the use of pens made of bamboo cuttings, preferably Balinese bamboo. “The bamboo is cut at a thirty-degree angle and split in half from top to bottom,” demonstrates Osman Sahin. “Even with the technology present today, it is not possible to write better or more beautifully using anything other than bamboo. The squeaking sound you hear when using the bamboo pen is said to be the weeping of the pen. It is said that the pen weeps so as to not fall into the hands of the ignorant.”

It is no surprise that there is wonder and magic in Turkish-Islamic calligraphy. It is almost as if the art moves and comes alive. Sweet appearance follows a slow, inner flow. There is silence, yet harmonious and metaphysical music echoes. However, this music cannot be heard by the ears but must be heard within.

He breathed in and leaned back comfortably in his chair, looking deep into his finished calligraphy as it stared back at him. The dance was over, the rhythm ceased, and the music was muffled. The bamboo pen lay there on the table, weeping with heartache, unaware of when the next dance will be.

This article was originally published in The Fountain Magazine which can be seen in the link below: http://www.fountainmagazine.com/articles.php?SIN=7f45bdfdf7&k=999&55847780&show=part1

 

No one knows dancing like him.

Trendy Toilet Talkers

 

 

 

Comedians Mohammed El-leissy and Trent McCarthy

 

 

Mo the Plumber- A tale of two leaks is a comedy show that is described by its creators as The Hollowmen meets Kenny with a touch of My Fair Lady.

 

The show is set weeks before state elections in the traditionally safe Labor seat of Northcote.  A leak occurs which forces the fictional sitting member Scott Richards to resign. Stephen Fishburne, played by comedian Trent McCarthy, is a Brumby Government adviser — a hollowman — who must not only deal with the leak in his own bathroom by calling Mo the Plumber, he must also deal with the consequences of the political leak by drafting Mo, played by Mohammed El-leissy, as a last minute candidate. 

 

“It’s really about what happens when two very different people find themselves in a tricky situation,” explains McCarthy.

 

Mohammed El-leissy and Trent McCarthy are both Greens members and have actually run as candidates in the recent Darebin Council elections. “Some of the people you run against are those very cunning, but not very smart types,” says El-leissy. “We wanted to explore how simple people get turned into these killer political machines.”

 

“We do make sure that we give our own party a serve too,” says McCarthy. “No one is protected when it comes to comedy, not even your own comrades!”

 

The show is inspired by Joe the Plumber who came to prominence during last year’s US Presidential election with John McCain’s desperate attempts to appeal to everyday voters. As the story unveiled, Joe wasn’t his real name, he wasn’t a registered plumber and he rarely showed up at McCain’s political rallies. 

 

“I’ve often wanted to do a show about a political apparatchik who finds himself in a bit of bind and has to work his way through the mess onstage,” explains McCarthy. “We know these people exist, but most of us don’t know what they’re like in person, so I’ve long been interested in bringing that to the surface.”

 

In this show Mo isn’t a redneck plumber but a Muslim with pretty naïve ideas about the world.

 

 “I have this character that’s an exaggerated version of my dad,” explains El-leissey. “So basically he’s this angry Egyptian Muslim guy who’s always on my case. He’s very cultural and un-Australian. I use him to highlight inter-generational differences amongst migrant communities.”

“The title character Mo is partly based on Mohammed himself — an everyday man with a twist or two.  I don’t think Mohammed’s ever done any actual plumbing, but that’s okay, because neither has his character!” says McCarthy.

 

Despite being a comedy, Mo the plumber deals with serious issues addressing the nature of political power, the role of the everyday person in democracy and the way things change when least expected.  Other reoccurring themes throughout the comedy act would be democracy, religion and the economic crisis.

“We’re also covering the whole Barrak Hussein ‘I’m not a Muslim’ Obama thing,” explains El-leissy.

“But it also has some cheap jokes in there too!  It’s amazing what you can joke about when you start thinking about plumbing and toilets. We even have a real toilet onstage, which helps ensure plenty of humour along the way,” says McCarthy. “But we also hope it works on lots of levels, there’s something in it for everyone really.” 

 

Mo the Plumber is a theatrical piece, with bits of stand-up woven in to keep the pace moving along. The show is ideal for anyone who likes their comedy witty and socially observant.