Early in the morning the courtyard of our hotel in Urfa was filled with men. They sat in white plastic chairs that were arranged along the side of the walls, waiting quietly. When the women came in in their finery they brought a flurry of excitement, ushering two young boys in princely costumes (white suits with golden embroidery, crowns, capes and scepters). Dore and I witnessed all this while having yogurt, cucumber, tomato and bread in the breakfast room. We watched the congregation slowly moved downstairs into a large room, which the night before we had music and dance with the local musicians. It seemed very early to have another party, but this was the last day of Kurban Bayrami, a religious holiday commemorating Abraham’s intention of sacrificing his only son to God. The gathering might have something to do with it.
The sounds of drumming, singing and women ululating seeped into our room as we prepared to leave. Just as we were checking out of the hotel the congregation emerged from the room. A woman threw something like a fire cracker into the air and it exploded into a shower of colored paper petals. The young boys walked out. To my puzzlement, they were wearing long semi-translucent tunics over their jackets, but their pants were gone.
“What was the celebration?” Dore asked the receptionist. He did not speak English but went promptly to his laptop and typed something in Turkish. Using Google translation, we realized it was a circumcision ceremony.
“How old are the boys?” We asked.
“Eight and twelve.” The receptionist said.
The boys were ushered into manhood fully conscious. I thought about it a lot.
Photo by Dore Steinberg
