July 31, 2024
The Water
melon
man
melon
man
I sometimes (every other day, hour, minute) wonder how Turkish I actually am. A good way to stop the spiraling questions of belonging and identity is to take a walk. The last time I went for a breath of fresh air to solve my identity issues I found an easy fix:
I glanced at this abandoned cadaver of a watermelon on a small bridge in Brussels. I mourned for the lost pleasures of Turkey’s most popular fruit as if we shared a (romantic or platonic) lifetime in a modest rural accommodation in Southern Anatolia.
Annually, Turkish people consume 22kg of watermelons per capita. Watermelons are everywhere. Every supermarket has them in abundance, seemingly on some “unmissable” discount every day of the year. Farmers sell them on the roadside, luring you in with a hastily written cardboard sign, inviting you on a tough but worthwhile haggling match until you obtain the best fruit in the game.
Watermelons are so synonymous with Turkish culture that they are practically a no-brainer on any breakfast table, any fridge, any picnic selection.
Cities like Diyarbakir even commemorate the savior of our people in the annual watermelon and culture festival. The celebrations begin as a parade of camels carry watermelons through the city. Festival-goers perform traditional dance routines to please the watermelon’s innate cravings for performance art and of course, the festival ends on a bang.
The watermelon-eating competition and the winner of the ‘heaviest watermelon’ price.
Two titles that I aim to one day add to my vacant trophy cabinet.
Yet, I must not underestimate the competition. Siyar Erzen, the winner of the 2021 Diyarbakir watermelon and culture festival watermelon-eating competition, gave the following speech after his resounding victory: “I knew that I would come out first. Its taste was very pleasant”- a true champion and master of the craft.
Not everyone shares this “exaggerated swagger of a [urban] teen”, look no further than this man blatantly lying about the quality of his watermelons.
An overbearing persona with seemingly infinite confidence (the average ego of a Turkish male), he promises the eager bystanders that his watermelon will announce its fresh ripeness in the lucious, saturated red of its flesh. As fate would have it, the watermelon was white. Don’t be white. The scandal made national news.
Of course, we can’t just enjoy the refreshing, light, luscious taste of a good watermelon without some sparkles of neoliberal terror. The price of watermelons has skyrocketed in Turkey over the years- now facing a 7x fold increase in watermelon prices since 2021. If that won’t radicalise the masses, I don’t know what will.
Now, let’s please gather for a moment of silence for the lost melon on that bridge. I see you brother. I see you.