The kitchen is an oven.
As soon as I enter the room, a warm, humid steam envelops me. In the center, about fifteen women bustle around a table, industrious and quick as bees. A stout woman approaches me with a wide smile, asking if I want coffee; tea, I reply. Her face lights up, and with a satisfied air, she pats me on the shoulder as if to say, “You’ve already settled in, haven’t you?” In the four days since I arrived in Turkey, I think I have already drunk about twenty teas: green, mint, lemon, at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I fear that when I return to Italy, I will be made of water and tea.
All the women wear hijabs of various colors and different styles. G., a Turkish girl, shows me how her hijab is made of three different layers. Some women speak to me in Arabic, others in Turkish, some younger girls in English, the other volunteer accompanying me in Spanish. They all know a few words in Italian and with a shy smile, they say an uncertain “buongiorno,” to which I reply with a “brava!”
I find myself thinking of Gino Strada’s book, Green Parrots, where a while ago I read that speaking a little of many languages is better than knowing only one well, and now I couldn’t agree with you more, Gino. So, although I don’t understand much, I reply to everyone with shukran or tesekkurler: thank you in Arabic and Turkish. But in the kitchen, there is no need for many words; non-verbal language reaches where my poor linguistic knowledge cannot. With knowing glances and explanatory gestures, they urge me to roll out the dough with the rolling pin: yalla, yalla!
The intoxicating smell of spices soon envelops the whole kitchen. The women discuss animatedly, but in a friendly way, every minimal amount of salt, oil, turmeric, or cumin to add to the dishes. We prepare fried dumplings filled with potatoes, onion, and chicken. Afterward, it’s the turn of chocolate shortbread cookies and the inevitable pistachios.
The women laugh, sing, and clap their hands.
We sit around the table and eat with gusto.
They talk, they talk, and even if I don’t understand a single word, I bite into my exquisite dumpling and smile, silently enjoying the beauty of diversity.