The People I Meet When I Travel: Military Intelligence, The Translator

This sub-series of The People I Meet When I Travel will need to be broken down. There are twenty or thirty military intelligence people living in the hotel, somewhere above me. I've only spoken with some of them, I only know what one of them does, and, well, as is the nature of their work, I'm not really sure I know enough to write about.

They are fun to drink with, though.

As happens, when you combine alcohol and people, a chemical reaction takes place that can be observed in a person's increased comfort with their surroundings; inhibitions are reduced, laughter and merriment are easily achieved, and people talk more readily about what's on their mind.

I won't learn anything classified from these folks, cause they are, well, professionals. Also, I won't learn what they are doing here, or why their mission is a short-term one (Nov. 2007- Nov. 2008).

They do bitch about work though, about bosses (which are generals, in this case), about co-workers (I've met some of them, and yes, there are insane people in uniform), and about the logic of their mission.

Saturday night I got lit with the translator. He's an American, who went to high school in Turkey, knows Turkish fluently, and then returned to the states to attend the Air Force Academy. Much respect. Dennis is a husky guy, reddish hair, freckled skin, and when he speaks Turkish, it sounds like Ankara people speaking Turkish... so, it's a little weird to watch (as I imagine it must be weird when I speak).

He knows the language and the culture, and Turkish women, and he's great company because we can joke about all three. Dennis can also share anecdotes about the embarrassing ways that the American military, when it doesn't consult him, puts its proverbial 'foot' in it, while trying to accomplish some task requiring Turkish and American cooperation.

Something Dennis notices often, is the way Americans try to reward a job well-done, by a Turkish counterpart. Military operations have a number of local support staff, and sometimes, personnel want to express their gratitude to the natives. People's hearts are in the right place, the execution, however, leaves much to be desired. He explains:

I look over and Janet is pressing a twenty YTL bill into the hands of this hotel waitress, as she stands alongside two co-workers. Then, Janet just walks away, leaving the other wait staff hanging. Those were all people we see everyday., and all three had been serving our group that evening. AWKWARD!

What gets me, is that I'm the cultural/linguistic advisor. I write memos on this shit and circulate them through the office. I helped develop a whole protocol for appropriately acknowledging the good work of our Turkish support staff. I know the culture, and the language, and one might think that my area of expertise matters, but obviously, people can't be fucked to read that shit, and the result is that we look like we're out to award servility. This kind of thing is dangerous, it attracts greedy people, makes us look like snobs, and it smacks of the behavior of empire builders. Just, give 'em a fucking certificate or something, but stop tossing tax-payer money around!

I tend to agree.

Dennis is the only fluent Turkish speaker on staff with his office. He is also the only person there who has lived in Turkey for any amount of time. Next week he goes home, and there isn't anyone coming here to fill his shoes.

George Carlin introduced a list of oxymora to his stand-up act, and along with Jumbo Shrimp there was Military Intelligence.

I tend to agree with him, too.