Sounds and Dervishes

Religion and tourism are never far behind each other, here. We saw Dervishes whirl in a hall off a train station platform in Sirkeci. The woodwork painted pastel pink. It began with a performance of sufi music. A flautist with too much chin, a woman playing the zither with not enough chin. An oud, and several singers.The room writhed with impatience, tourists fanning themselves with their programs and wondering when the dervishes would appear and start their whirling. One singer, a young man in eyeglasses, placed his music folder under his arm, closed his eyes and sang, swaying happily. They all swayed as they played. From the vantage point of my reduced height, all I could see from sitting position was the tops of their brown hats, bobbing from side to side.

The dervishes, when they appeared, were young, sweating, serious looking men. They were performing, and praying, and working. They began with their arms crossed across their chests, hands on shoulders, then one by one would start to turn, their hands peeling down to their waists, then slowly up into the air, one hand facing up to receive from God, the other pointing down to give to the people. We could hear a whistle and the train pulling in, the clicking of fans, and various camera pings and beeps and clicks.

A few weeks before we left I saw Crossing the Bridge, Fatih Akin’s film about the music of Istanbul, with a scungy Alexander Hacke from Einstürzende Neubauten wandering around the city playing with various musicians. We haven’t seen as much live music as I would like, but I have been noticing the sounds here. The calls to prayer bouncing from loudspeaker to loudspeaker across Istanbul, the prog-metal emanating from a bar in Beyoglu, the intense hubbub rising as we got further and further into the Grand Bazaar. It’s awesome.

Posted by Julieanne on Thursday, August 24, 2006 at 6.29 pm AEST