Durumlu Marul and Uncle Paul

Marash Girl never buys iceberg lettuce, not since the word was out that the darker and more bitter lettuces are  better for you.  Sometimes she cheats and uses Romaine Lettuce, but nothing is as wonderful as iceberg lettuce, good and crunchy.  (Marash Girl's son's favorite treat at Not Your Average Joe's used to be a big wedge of iceberg lettuce with their special dressing -- almost as good as dessert!)

Growing up, Marash Girl doesn't seem to remember any other offering BUT iceberg lettuce -- or was it her mother's favorite as it is hers. . . Grandma Jennie would offer delicious salata made of sliced  tomatoes and cucumbers (both fresh from Grandpa Peter's garden if it was summertime) with chunked iceberg lettuce and freshly chopped mint. On occasion, Marash Martha decided to offer a salad that the family had never tasted before:  iceberg lettuce, freshly chopped apples (from the apple trees in the back yard), and freshly chopped walnuts (NOT from the walnut trees in the back yard -- the squirrels always managed to get those nuts the night before Grandpa Peter  and Uncle Paul were about to harvest them). 

Marash Girl can't remember what either of Grandma Jennie or Marash Martha used for salad dressing; she remembers the first time her mother served romaine lettuce, though. That time and ever thereafter, whenever her mother served romaine lettuce, her father started chanting, "Durumlu Marul, Dumumlu Marul".  What was that all about?  He soon regaled the family with the story of Uncle Paul, who as a young boy in Marash, would walk through the streets of Kumbet chanting "Durumlu Marul, Durumlu Msarul", and carrying a basket of Durumlu Maral over his head, hoping to sell the heads of romaine lettuce one by one to the ladies of the houses in their neighborhood in Marash, Ottoman Empire.  As Paul was still young enough to be considered a child, but old enough to carry the basket over his head, the Muslim women could freely purchase from him, as he was not yet a man!

Weaving to Survive

Yesterday evening, Marash Girl attended "Turn of the Screw" performed by the Newton Nomadic Theatre at Gregorian Oriental Rugs in Newton Lower Falls, Massachusetts.  The play was intense, the actors superb, and the setting (courtesy of Scott Gregorian) far more colorful  than any theatre Marash Girl had ever experienced.

Being surrounded by the oriental carpets brought back a family story of survival in Marash early in the 20th century.  As her father Peter told it . . . .

There she was, his mother -- young Yepros -- with 4 children and a younger sister to care for, her husband Moses in the United States, unable to return to his family in Marash because World War I had broken out.

As Marash Girl's father Peter told the story,  Yepros's uncle (her mother's brother) Ganimian (Marash Girl doesn't remember his first name), concerned, asked Yepros, "What are you going to do? How are you going to support these children? I'll set up a loom in your house, and teach you how to weave so that you and the family can weave cloth and sell it in the marketplace."   As Peter told the story, every member of the family worked at that loom -- he spun thread, the others (Gulenia, Paul, Rosie, Mary and his mother Yepros) did the weaving -- in fact, Aunty Mary Kurtgusian (later Pambookian) apparently caught the hook (and I'm not sure what Peter meant by hook) in her eye and to her dying day had a scar on her eye lid as a reminder of those days! Grandma Yepros sold the cloth in the market place in Marash, and if the cloth was too rough, or had too many errors in it, their Muslim neighbors (Muhajjirs) took the cloth to the countryside to exchange for produce from the gardens of other Muhajjirs.  Grandpa Peter proudly told of how he, then a 6 year old boy, would spin wool into yarn, the yarn that would  be woven into cloth by his mother, his brother Paul, his sister Gulenia and Rosie, and Mary Baju (his mother's sister, though they always thought she was their sister as they called her Mary Sister -- Baju in Turkish means sister).  With the waters coming down from the mountains, and some fruit and vegetables, milk and eggs, (and probably more raw wool to spin into thread/yarn for weaving) coming in from the countryside (thanks to their Muslim neighbors --  see above), the family was minimally able to survive (though apparently when they arrived in this country, they were thinner than thin!)

Family Feud at Market Basket

A favorite stop for Cape Codders driving onto the Cape -- first exit off the Sagamore Bridge -- is Market Basket,  a grocery store where folks stock up for the week with the freshest produce and products at the most reasonable prices on the Cape.  This joy has been clouded by the family feud presently taking place between two Arthurs -- Arthur T. Demoulas and Arthur S. Demoulas --  first cousins -- who are fighting for control of the  very popular long-time family-owned Market Basket Supermarket chain based north of Boston.  At the moment, Arthur T. is on the outs but is strongly supported by a vast majority of the supermarket employees, as evidenced by these photos taken by Marash Girl yesterday at the Market Basket in Sagamore, Massachusetts.  Much of the Cape Cod community is praying for peace among the cousins.

Sagamore Bridge Market Basket Employees show support for ousted Arthur T. Demoulas

 

 "We are all family!  This is so sad!" said one of the employees, carrying the above sign outside of  the Sagamore, Massachusetts' Market Basket today.

 Inside the Store

Boston Globe's article on Market Basket feud on display at front of store.

 Outside the Store

"We Support Arthur T."   At the Entrance to the Market Basket, Sagarmore Bridge, Cape Cod, Massachusetts    "Store 69"

Freshly squeezed orange juice? Really?

 

At a recent visit to Market Basket, the one in Sandwich, Massachusetts, just over the Sagamore Bridge, Marash Girl noticed two big bins of recently squeezed oranges.  Whatever could that mean?  Astounded, she asked the woman behind the counter, "Your freshly squeezed orange juice is really freshly squeezed, and freshly squeezed right here moments ago?"  "Absolutely," the woman behind the counter answered proudly, with a big                 smile on her face.     Need Marash Girl say more?

                                 

Quetzaltenango in Takoma Park

Indigena with coconut and machete.

Marash Girl's Spanish came flooding back to her as she chatted with the young man selling coconuts at the Farmer's Market in Takoma Park, Maryland.  

"The milk in the coconut is delicious!  Here . . . try it  . . . and then I'll cut the husk off of the coconut for you. . . . Yes, I'm from Guatemala.  I'm Indigena from Quetzaltenango . . . my people still speak their ancient language -- as I do...I'm here to help my family have a better life, 
because in Guatemala, jobs are few, and pay is less."  

Marash Girl remembered her years of studying Spanish -- how she had chosen to go to Antigua, Guatemala, to study Spanish, as the Guatemalan people she had met here in the United States had been kind to her, kind enough to slow down when speaking Spanish with her, had encouraged her in her efforts as she stumbled through her newly learned language. . . and this young man was no different.  "You speak Spanish well," he said, smiling as Marash Girl happily spoke to him in a language she once loved.

FARMER'S MARKET, TAKOMA PARK, MARYLAND, MARCH 20, 2011

We just planted our peas (actually before St. Patrick's Day) and now we're off to the Farmer's Market on the first day of Spring! Yay! My sister is at Confirmation Class which is why she couldn't come with us.

I didn't grow these, but maybe someday I will, and I do have peas planted, if the deer don't get them!

GIANT EGYPTIAN PAPYRUS - Is this really what the Egyptians made paper out of?

      Ama loves signs, so I let her take pictures of all of the signs at the Farmer's Market; after all, she's just a tourist!

And I really love dogs, but little ones!

Did you know that you can use your credit card at our Farmer's Market?
That's what I learned when I asked this woman if I could play with some of her wooden nickels and she said no!

We always buy local if we can; we belong to the Takoma Park Co-Op!

I loved tasting the cheese, but I loved the little plastic spoons even more! Ama said I could keep mine.

Ama thinks these mushrooms are beautiful -- yuk! I'm glad I don't have to eat them!

I wish we didn't eat breakfast before we came, but I was hungry!

I want to hold that little lamb!

Walking to the Farmer's Market, I found this at a yard sale, a yard sale where everything was free!

Ama loves apples because Otro Baba and Uncle Paul used to grow them in her backyard when she was growing up!

I asked the man how many goats he had; he said 400! I asked him if he brought any of his goats with him, or if I could visit the goats on his farm; the answer was no, unless Ama could take me there when I was supposed to be in school!  That's okay; I'll go visit the goats in Monson, Massachusetts, this summer.

A lot of walking and playing and I think I'll just take a nap.  Kisher Pari!