Lunch
by Cass Gilbert
Note: The Long Ride Home [internal link] is an introduction to Cass's journey, which began in Australia.
Cropped like spiky hair, a patchwork of burnt black wheat fields appear over the horizon. Where fires still smoulder, plumes of smoke spiral upwards, drifting in the wind across the empty Anatolean plains.
A farmer hails me as I'm passing a water fountain. It's a quiet spot. Just an old tractor and a sleeping dog, a set of scales, a box of tomatoes and a lone melon. "Merhaba" (Hello) I begin as he strides over purposefully, almost pulling me off my bike. I'm dragged into the shade. Single-toothed, with eyes that seem squeezed shut, he disappears behind a tree to awaken his wife. I must look hungry, for she emerges with a few strips of fresh flat bread and a pot of salt. Ingredients before him, my impromptu host chops a few tomatoes and a pepper he pulls out from a pocket, and hands me a round of sandwiches. Insisting I eat, the one melon is sliced and offered, too. All the time he's mumbling in Turkish, tapping me on the back, smiling, encouraging me to take another bite if I pause to draw breath.
The food is all but gone. Satisfied, my host darts behind his tree once more, only to return with a bag of pumpkin seeds. But I've already been given my own supply several kilometres back, from another friendly farmer. Scrutinising them carefully, he passes them over to his wife for a second opinion. "Guzel, guzel," is the verdict: very good indeed. They will not need supplementing with his own. Instead, he spots my empty water bottles and sets off to refill them.
Such an unexpected gesture, inspiring for the kilometres ahead. "Tessekur ederim" (Thank you) I say, my hand on my heart. Then, "Allah ismaladik," the Turkish farewell. "Allah," he agrees, smiling his one-toothed smile. "Allah," he repeats, waving his arms about, looking all around. Allah is everywhere.
And so I'm on my way once
more. I can only promise myself never to forget these acts of kindness, learn
from them by returning them, and continue this circle of hospitality.
© Cass Gilbert