August 2006                                                         The Megaphone                                                                Page 5

Brian's Story

by Julie (Stout) Crim

  I lived in Turkey, a Muslim country in the late ’60s. I worked hard on my language skills and in a rough way tried to capture the language. After three years I was still not good in an even flowing conversation but managed to get my point across and add something to the conversation. My broken and one word at a time Turkish could get me through shopping, taxi drivers and usually (not always) my landlord and maid. 

  We lived in Ankara, the capitol of the country, in a modern large high rise apartment building. One day while sitting in the playground watching my children, my son came up to me and said he had met a new playmate. “He’s like me, Momma, but he talks funny.” Like him meant he looked American and spoke English. I watched the two little boys play for a while and could tell by his haircut and shoes that he probably was not from the USA. Eventually a nice looking woman came over to where I was sitting and introduced herself as Betty, Tyron’s mother. Tyron was an English lad living with his parents in the same building as us and soon we all were close friends. Brian and Betty, Tyrone’s parents, lived in Turkey because of Brian’s work. He was an architectural engineer and had drawn up the plans for installing air conditioning into the House of Parliament, a huge old building. When his work was completed, he was invited to stay on and oversee the actual work at a very good wage. 

  Brian reminded me somewhat of David Niven or Clark Gable, the well known movie actors of the '40s and '50s. Brian was very handsome and suave and dressed with perfection. His manners were European and impeccable. When I met him formally for the first time, he kissed my hand (no joke). He usually dressed in a dark suit with white shirt and conservative tie. His father was from India and his mother from England. Brian had mastered eight languages and being proud of that fact, he told me Turkish was easy to learn. He quickly picked it up and I did envy him that. Maybe it was easy for him after speaking seven languages to learn just one more. Ha. For me, Turkish, should I ever learn it, was only my second after English. Now I’ve gone to some trouble to give you a mental picture of Brian so you’ll enjoy . . . The Rest of the Story.

  Installing air conditioning in the old House of Parliament involved a lot of plumbing, pipes and equipment that was not made in Turkey. Often times the workers made do by inventing their own small pieces or reshaping another piece of equipment. Brian was the top boss. He might as well have been God to some of the workers. Turkey had two social classes, the rich and the poor. The labors that were doing most of the work were peasants and treated the “Boss” with comic respect according to Brian. They called him Sahib, which was Turkish for master. They bowed when he came into their presence and sometimes bowed so low they lost their balance and fell on their faces. But Brian never embarrassed them by doing anything but being serious and complimenting and encouraging their work when it was warranted. He had a strong empathy for them for he himself was born into a working family and with hard work and encouragement from his parents and family was able to get an education that had benefited him greatly. He understood them although he could never tell them that. To be born a peasant in Turkey at that time meant that no matter how good you were at anything, you would die a peasant. There was no way out.

  Each work day began with a tour of the work area. So in his dark suit, white shirt, tie and a hard hat he accompanied the foreman to look and talk about yesterday’s work and what was to be done that day. It had all gone smoothly until one morning there seemed to be a problem with some pipes. They were long pipes seeming to go on for miles and miles underground. Pieces of pipe had to be fitted together. In his near perfect Turkish he asked the laborers, "Are the pipes fitting together yet?" 

  The workers grabbed their faces, turned their backs and tried their best to stifle the laughter that bubbled forth. This was very disrespectful on their part and of course they felt they might lose their jobs over it. Once recovered, they turned around and with all the respect they could muster up said, “No Sahib, the pipes are not fitting together.” Naturally Brian asked what they laughed about but not one word was forthcoming. They stood with their hats in their hands looking at the floor and downcasts eyes. Red faced and ashamed of their own behavior, they all stood there in silence. Duties called and soon the incident was forgotten. The next day the scene was repeated and on all the following days they became better at hiding their laughter and wouldn’t share the reason with Brian. Theft was a problem and the small pieces needed to fit the pipes together properly could be hard to come by. The problem with the pipes continued along with the same conversation and the poor quality pipes would not fit together.

  I recall us talking about it over dinner one night and Brian saying he just couldn’t imagine what the problem was but by jove, he was going to find out the next day or else!

  So, after several days of this nonsense, Brian had had enough. When he asked if the pipes were fitting together and after their recovery from snorting with laughter, he said something like “Dammit men, tell me why you laugh?” I can just see him, angry, using a raised voice . . . “Dammit men, tell me why you laugh?!!!

  After they recovered and with a very red face one man said, while looking at the floor, “But Sahib, you are asking if the pipes are having intercourse.” 

  End of story. All of us, at one time or another, have put our foot in our mouth. Many words pour from our mouths everyday. Let’s make sure we are saying what we mean to say . . . and yes, the pipe problem was solved and the house of Parliament did get its air conditioning.

Julie (Stout) Crim ‘57

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