Day 1 "O Simdi Asker"

Today S. went to assigned military base and I'm taking over writing...If we have chance to communicate he asked to put some of his observations here...I'll try to adhere to his words, but it's not gonna be easy...

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Now I don't know when he'd have a chance to contact me. If phone cards he took with him were confiscated or not...It can ever happen that during first 5 weeks there I won't know anything or I'll be visiting him every weekend. No one knows at the moment anything. And that's one of the most bothering things...

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I should be proud of him that he's serving his nation, but I'm not. And it makes us both more miserable than others in our situation are. There was some kind of a positive excitement floating in the air today in front of the base...and just yesterday one of the aunts with a big smile (one of those overtly nice smiles) asked if I'm excited about S.'s becoming a soldier (and what she meant by that also a true man)...It would be easier if I was. It seemed that militarist ideology really alleviates the pain and fear of many families and conscripts. All these rituals of visiting the house of the soldier-to-be, bringing some military underwear, sharing "military stories" is ment to bring some relief. And I think it really worked this way fo S.'s parents. At the same time, S. was not necessary for the ritual. It was the family speaking about him as if he was not present in the room. In fact most of the time he wasn't - and good for him: he didn't have to listen to this militarist crap. Also the streets were overtaken recently by soldiers-to-be and their friends. They have this ritual of taking future soldier into a car decorated with Turkish flags somehow attached to the front of the car and they drive around the cities leaning out of the car's windows waving flags (one flag is never enough to demonstrate love for this piece of cloth), making noise with car horn and shouting "Bizim asker en buyuk asker" which means "Our soldier is the biggest/best soldier." It definitely helps to channel anxiety that such a soldier could potentially feel. Especially when he believes he's doing the right thing. But again, we didn't do it - we just had some vodka, beers and chat with friends.

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So far so good - he's in Kutahya, in Western Turkey in an air force base. But after initial training he'll be most probably transferred somewhere else - we'll know just two days in advance. Now I'm preparing to the role of fiancee - one of the friends advised us to become engaged for the time being. Supposedly engaged man is more man than single one. And since military is about manhood the more S. meets the social requirements for his gender the better it should be. Also ring on my finger should make it easier to visit him - it gives me some rights I'd be denied if I continue to be "just" a girlfriend. Partner relationships get no recognition (buhaha. what a discovery!). So last night we had this crazy "tour de jewelery store" and we got the rings. Although our criteria were simple: the cheapest and least shining ones (it is apparently fashionable to have huge, shining rings) we actually found really quite rings and we should be able to sell them off in June. So S. became 24h engaged man and I'll be part-time engaged woman during the visit weekends. I was trying to find something comparably absurd I've done in my life and seriously nothing can compete with the rings. Moreover, I never made such an effort to comply with my gender role (but at the same time we have some little pervert pleasure from he fact we staged this whole engagement drama). In the eyes of many people we became men and woman - but I can't get rid off the opposite feeling - feeling of being a child who has to lie about a broken vase. No matter how absurd it may seem, however, there is some logic behind it and if that's gona ease anyting the show must go on.