New Voices columnist Amy Idem, originally from a small market town in Lancashire, is now living with her husband and three children, in Idil, in Turkey’s south eastern province of Şırnak. She writes about her cultural and life experiences here, and on her blog: https://memyselfandidil.wordpress.com/
The In-Laws
WHEN I hear people moan about their inlaws, I can’t help feeling they’ve got off lightly. When you live in an apartment block with all your inlaws, it’s difficult to feel sympathetic when someone complains their mother, sister or brother in law visits once a week.
My first impressions of them were fairly good, some of them in particular tried their hardest to help me feel comfortable and at ease.
Others insisted on sitting and staring at me – something I have since learnt is not uncommon here – whilst I felt increasingly uncomfortable and tried to avoid meeting their gaze.
Some of them seemed to have no concept of privacy and when I took myself off to the bedroom to have a rest from struggling to form sentences in Turkish, they barged in, sat far too close and asked too many questions.
Despite all this, I too am incredibly lucky with my inlaws. My father in law is the kindest man with a heart of gold, he has been through horrific things in his lifetime but always remains upbeat and positive.
Prior to coming to İdil, I had only met two of my husband’s many cousins and two of his six brothers, I had managed to convince myself that my father in law hated me because I was a foreigner.
My husband told me time and time again that his Dad was a lovely man and everybody liked him, but still I couldn’t shake the fear that he wouldn’t fully accept me into his family.
When we arrived here, he wasn’t at home, and I sat in the lounge literally trembling with nerves and fear. I heard his voice and my sister in law informed me that ‘Baba’ was home.
As he entered the room, I got to my feet wondering if my legs would actually have the strength to hold me, and immediately I knew that my fears were unfounded, in his loud booming voice he asked the others my name, which he promptly changed to ‘Amina’ and so he has called me since. He left the room with a smile and I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.
My husband’s eldest sibling is a strong woman, who reminds me very much of my own mother. She always speaks her mind but at the same time is an incredibly funny, loving and generous woman, at least where I’m concerned.
I get on well with all the rest of my husband’s relations too thankfully, but I have to say, when I first arrived I found their spouses somewhat irritating.
I was new here, therefore knocking on the door at 7am to ask for an egg wasn’t what I would consider polite or normal. Several things they did wound me up regularly, but my polite Britishness wouldn’t allow me to say anything or stand up for myself.
Due to this they began to take it for granted that I would do and give them whatever they said.
It made for a stressful, difficult time for me and only made my dislike for my new home seem more justified.
I have since grown a backbone, and this no longer happens. I have a good relationship with all of those that live in the apartments above and beside us, but sometimes it is still a little too close for comfort.
My husband often states that he is jealous of the way his aunties and sisters dote on me, and that he is sure his father loves me more than he loves him, although it may be true, he says it as a joke likewise he couldn’t be happier with the way I have been accepted into this huge family.
And despite the rocky beginnings, I love my big crazy Kurdish family!