#turkish folklore

[allmythologies]

day 25 of horror mythology: akarisi

al karisi is a demon in turkish folkore whose name means “the scarlet woman,” or “the red wo man.” al karisi stalks women who have recently given birth to a child. many al demons will kidnap or otherwise harm infants, but al karisi is primarily interested in the new mothers. she watches and waits for the mother to fall asleep before entering the room and cutting out the woman’s liver. she has hypnotic powers which render her targets paralyzed when they meet her gaze. it is said that they can be fully conscious and aware of what’s happening but unable to move or to call out while the demon tears into them and takes their organs. when she strikes her victims, it doesn’t leave a bloody murder scene. there are no gashes, cuts, or even bruises upon her prey. it appears to the world that the woman suffered a sudden and mysterious death in her sleep.

[turqishcharm]

Kahvehâne in Kütahya, Turkey by Feyyaz Çetinel, 2016.

The detection of coffee in folklegend has been associated with the mystical figures around Sufi orders. One popular legend attributes the original detection of drink to the founder of Şazeli order, Ebu'l-Hasan Ali eş-Şazeli. He became the patron saint of the coffee-dealers' guild, so the phrase "Ya Hazret-I Şeyh Şazeli" was placed in the shops of coffee-dealers and in the lodges of various orders.

The Coffeehouses in Early Modern Istanbul by Ahmet Yaşar

[all-turkic]

Boğaç's Triumph & Dirse Han's Betrayal

Book of Dede Korkut: Boğaç, swiftly recovered, excelling in skills. Forty traitors plotted against Dirse Han, aiming to sell him to infidels.

With swift steed and a poet’s tongue, Boğaç recovered in forty days. Excelling in horsemanship, archery, and marksmanship, he surpassed his former self. Learning this, forty traitors schemed: “Dirse Han, if he learns his son is well, won’t spare us. Best to seize him, sell to infidels.” They deviously approached, capturing a pale Dirse Han. Tying his hands, they led him toward heathen lands. The…

[henibi]

Drew a scene from the Turkish fairy tale “What God May Neglect, the Fish Will Not Forget”

[talesfromthecrypts]

The thing about watching folk horror that deal with folklore from countries who's tales you aren't familiar with is you do a lot of "hmmm that shot of a lizard's eyeball probably meant something but I have no idea what"

[laurasimonsdaughter]

What a cool addition, thank you! Body swapping is such an interesting variation on shape shifting.

Les Mille et un jours, contes persans is also the collection that introduced Western Europe to (a retelling of) Turadot, which came up on this blog a while ago! I've never read it, but apparently the writer, François Pétis de la Croix, was loosely adapting the 15th century Turkish collection Ferec baʿde şidde (Relief After Hardship).

Hello lovely internet person! Folklore question: there are many stories where transformation serves an important story beat- either a character being cursed into an animal form and having to break it, the antagonist being transformed as punishment, cloaks that give the wearer the power to transform used in various ways, etcetera. I was wondering if there are any stories you know of where the character wants to/needs to transform and acquires the means to do so, but it ends up going terribly wrong?

I’m plotting a story where one of the arcs revolves around a character transforming themself both for body dysmorphia reasons and to better fit into society- but, unfortunately, it ends up going wrong in some way which I haven’t fully planned out yet. I’m trying to use a lot of folklore and fairytale themes and beats in this story, so I’d love to know if there’s any older stories that follow this kind of arc! (I know it’s a fairly common modern storytelling arc)

I think the exact motif of a story's protagonist seeking out a way to physically transform themselves at all - whether successfully or unsuccessfully - is rare in European folklore. Perhaps because magic of this kind is usually reserved for non-human or evil characters. (I can imagine there are examples from cultures who do not always treat the human body as quite so static, like the Aboriginal or First Nation traditions. But I do not know any examples off the top of my head and would not recommend drawing from those more spiritual tales for modern fantasy).

That being said, these are the stories I know that seem most closely related to what you're looking for:

● In The Story About Ciccu (Sicily) a greedy King has his servant Ciccu kidnap the beautiful princess he wants to marry, the princess says she will not marry him until he orders Ciccu to jump into a lit oven. Ciccu's magic horse (which the princess knows he has) warns Ciccu to rub himself all over with the horse's sweat before jumping into the oven. He does so and instead of burning he comes out even more handsome than he was already. The King demands to know how he did it and Ciccu tells him he rubbed himself with old grease. The King does so, and burns to death. (A similar motif shows up in the Sicilian The King Who Wanted a Beautiful Wife and the Venetian The Three Crones, in which the way to become young and beautiful is to flay one's skin off, but this is a lie not based on any magical truth, so it's not as applicable here.)

● In The Fairy Ointment (Wales, West England) a woman is fetched by a fairy (or pixie) to be midwife for his fairy wife in labour. She is given ointment to rub on the infant's eyes and slyly puts some on her own right eye as well. This gives her the power to see the fairies, even when she is returned to the human world. When she sees the fairy father and greets him, however, he finds out what she has done and makes her blind in her right eye to take the magic sight from her.

● There are various stories (eg. The Hunchback of Willow Brake, The Gifts of the Mountain Spirits, The Old Man with the Wen) about two men who have a similar physical defect (in the European versions a hunched back, in the Asian versions a skin growth). One encounters a host of fairies, dwarves, elves, goblins, etc., behaves well, and gets rewarded with the removal of the defect. When the second tries to replicate this result he behaves badly and instead gets given the defect that was taken away from the first on top of his own.

● In The Story of Caliph Stork (German literary fairy tale from 1826) an evil sorcerer makes sure the Caliph and his Grand Vizier get a scroll with a magic spell and a box of magic powder that can be used to change into animals. Once in animal form they cannot laugh, however, or they will forget how to change back. They do laugh and they become stuck in their animal forms while the sorcerer puts his son on the throne. With some help from a princess who was turned into an owl by the sorcerer they eventually manage to become human again and defeat the sorcerer.

● In Jan the Sorcerer (Belgium), The Thief and his Master (Germany) and The King of the Black Art (Scotland) the protagonist learns magic and helps his poor father by changing himself into a steer or horse to be sold at market. But the bridle/lead must not be sold with him. The father forgets this and the son is unable to change back into a human and escape, until he can trick someone into taking the bridle off him.

That's what I've got! Hope it's helpful ^^

[turkicculture]

Turkish women's folk clothing from the Alevi villages of Tokat

[charliescreatures]

A creature of the night from Librum Prodigiosum ! The Mhachkay, from Turkish Mythology! This vampiric beast started as a person born with two hearts and souls, shunned from society, now in the form of an owl sucks blood and devours organs!

[foodandfolklore]

The Boy who found fear at last

Yesterday, I shared a Celtic Folktale about a man who felt no fear. I used it as an example for why men not showing negative emotions like fear and sadness was glorified. Which is interesting in a way. But the story on it's own is kinda boring. Guy fears nothing, faces a bunch of stuff that would scare a normal person, and is rewarded for his lack of fear with riches.

This Turkish Folktale has a much more interesting plot line. Same premise; a male is born fearing nothing and searches the world for something to scare them. The only difference is in the Turkish version, they find it! Turns out, the most terrifying thing is responsibility. Which is weirdly relatable even today in our modern era. To grow up and start adulting before we feel we are ready is a terrifying sensation, and clearly not a mindset unique to our generation.

The Boy Who Found Fear At Last

Once upon a time there lived a woman who had one son whom she loved dearly. The little cottage in which they dwelt was built on the outskirts of a forest, and as they had no neighbours, the place was very lonely, and the boy was kept at home by his mother to bear her company.

They were sitting together on a winter’s evening, when a storm suddenly sprang up, and the wind blew the door open. The woman started and shivered, and glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected to see some horrible thing behind her. ‘Go and shut the door,’ she said hastily to her son, ‘I feel frightened.’

‘Frightened?’ repeated the boy. ‘What does it feel like to be frightened?’

‘Well—just frightened,’ answered the mother. ‘A fear of something, you hardly know what, takes hold of you.’

‘It must be very odd to feel like that,’ replied the boy. ‘I will go through the world and seek fear till I find it.’ And the next morning, before his mother was out of bed, he had left the forest behind him.

After walking for some hours he reached a mountain, which he began to climb. Near the top, in a wild and rocky spot, he came upon a band of fierce robbers, sitting round a fire. The boy, who was cold and tired, was delighted to see the bright flames, so he went up to them and said, ‘Good greeting to you, sirs,’ and wriggled himself in between the men, till his feet almost touched the burning logs.

The robbers stopped drinking and eyed him curiously, and at last the captain spoke.

‘No caravan of armed men would dare to come here, even the very birds shun our camp, and who are you to venture in so boldly?’

‘Oh, I have left my mother’s house in search of fear. Perhaps you can show it to me?’

‘Fear is wherever we are,’ answered the captain.

‘But where?’ asked the boy, looking round. ‘I see nothing.’

‘Take this pot and some flour and butter and sugar over to the churchyard which lies down there, and bake us a cake for supper,’ replied the robber. And the boy, who was by this time quite warm, jumped up cheerfully, and slinging the pot over his arm, ran down the hill.

When he got to the churchyard he collected some sticks and made a fire; then he filled the pot with water from a little stream close by, and mixing the flour and butter and sugar together, he set the cake on to cook. It was not long before it grew crisp and brown, and then the boy lifted it from the pot and placed it on a stone, while he put out the fire. At that moment a hand was stretched from a grave, and a voice said:

‘Is that cake for me?’

‘Do you think I am going to give to the dead the food of the living?’ replied the boy, with a laugh. And giving the hand a tap with his spoon, and picking up the cake, he went up the mountain side, whistling merrily.

‘Well, have you found fear?’ asked the robbers when he held out the cake to the captain.

‘No; was it there?’ answered the boy. ‘I saw nothing but a hand which came from a grave, and belonged to someone who wanted my cake, but I just rapped the fingers with my spoon, and said it was not for him, and then the hand vanished. Oh, how nice the fire is!’ And he flung himself on his knees before it, and so did not notice the glances of surprise cast by the robbers at each other.

‘There is another chance for you,’ said one at length. ‘On the other side of the mountain lies a deep pool; go to that, and perhaps you may meet fear on the way.’

‘I hope so, indeed,’ answered the boy. And he set out at once.

He soon beheld the waters of the pool gleaming in the moonlight, and as he drew near he saw a tall swing standing just over it, and in the swing a child was seated, weeping bitterly.

‘That is a strange place for a swing,’ thought the boy; ‘but I wonder what he is crying about.’ And he was hurrying on towards the child, when a maiden ran up and spoke to him.

‘I want to lift my little brother from the swing,’ cried she, ‘but it is so high above me, that I cannot reach. If you will get closer to the edge of the pool, and let me mount on your shoulder, I think I can reach him.’

‘Willingly,’ replied the boy, and in an instant the girl had climbed to his shoulders. But instead of lifting the child from the swing, as she could easily have done, she pressed her feet so firmly on either side of the youth’s neck, that he felt that in another minute he would be choked, or else fall into the water beneath him. So gathering up all his strength, he gave a mighty heave, and threw the girl backwards. As she touched the ground a bracelet fell from her arm, and this the youth picked up.

‘I may as well keep it as a remembrance of all the queer things that have happened to me since I left home,’ he said to himself, and turning to look for the child, he saw that both it and the swing had vanished, and that the first streaks of dawn were in the sky.

With the bracelet on his arm, the youth started for a little town which was situated in the plain on the further side of the mountain, and as, hungry and thirsty, he entered its principal street, a Jew stopped him. ‘Where did you get that bracelet?’ asked the Jew. ‘It belongs to me.’

‘No, it is mine,’ replied the boy.

‘It is not. Give it to me at once, or it will be the worse for you!’ cried the Jew.

‘Let us go before a judge, and tell him our stories,’ said the boy. ‘If he decides in your favour, you shall have it; if in mine, I will keep it!’

To this the Jew agreed, and the two went together to the great hall, in which the kadi was administering justice. He listened very carefully to what each had to say, and then pronounced his verdict. Neither of the two claimants had proved his right to the bracelet, therefore it must remain in the possession of the judge till its fellow was brought before him.

When they heard this, the Jew and the boy looked at each other, and their eyes said: ‘Where are we to go to find the other one?’ But as they knew there was no use in disputing the decision, they bowed low and left the hall of audience.

Wandering he knew not whither, the youth found himself on the sea-shore. At a little distance was a ship which had struck on a hidden rock, and was rapidly sinking, while on deck the crew were gathered, with faces white as death, shrieking and wringing their hands.

‘Have you met with fear?’ shouted the boy. And the answer came above the noise of the waves.

‘Oh, help! help! We are drowning!’

Then the boy flung off his clothes, and swam to the ship, where many hands were held out to draw him on board.

‘The ship is tossed hither and thither, and will soon be sucked down,’ cried the crew again. ‘Death is very near, and we are frightened!’

‘Give me a rope,’ said the boy in reply, and he took it, and made it safe round his body at one end, and to the mast at the other, and sprang into the sea. Down he went, down, down, down, till at last his feet touched the bottom, and he stood up and looked about him. There, sure enough, a sea-maiden with a wicked face was tugging hard at a chain which she had fastened to the ship with a grappling iron, and was dragging it bit by bit beneath the waves. Seizing her arms in both his hands, he forced her to drop the chain, and the ship above remaining steady, the sailors were able gently to float her off the rock. Then taking a rusty knife from a heap of seaweed at his feet, he cut the rope round his waist and fastened the sea-maiden firmly to a stone, so that she could do no more mischief, and bidding her farewell, he swam back to the beach, where his clothes were still lying.

The youth dressed himself quickly and walked on till he came to a beautiful shady garden filled with flowers, and with a clear little stream running through. The day was hot, and he was tired, so he entered the gate, and seated himself under a clump of bushes covered with sweet-smelling red blossoms, and it was not long before he fell asleep. Suddenly a rush of wings and a cool breeze awakened him, and raising his head cautiously, he saw three doves plunging into the stream. They splashed joyfully about, and shook themselves, and then dived to the bottom of a deep pool. When they appeared again they were no longer three doves, but three beautiful damsels, bearing between them a table made of mother of pearl. On this they placed drinking cups fashioned from pink and green shells, and one of the maidens filled a cup from a crystal goblet, and was raising it to her mouth, when her sister stopped her.

‘To whose health do you drink?’ asked she.

‘To the youth who prepared the cake, and rapped my hand with the spoon when I stretched it out of the earth,’ answered the maiden, ‘and was never afraid as other men were! But to whose health do you drink?’

‘To the youth on whose shoulders I climbed at the edge of the pool, and who threw me off with such a jerk, that I lay unconscious on the ground for hours,’ replied the second. ‘But you, my sister,’ added she, turning to the third girl, ‘to whom do you drink?’

‘Down in the sea I took hold of a ship and shook it and pulled it till it would soon have been lost,’ said she. And as she spoke she looked quite different from what she had done with the chain in her hands, seeking to work mischief. ‘But a youth came, and freed the ship and bound me to a rock. To his health I drink,’ and they all three lifted their cups and drank silently.

As they put their cups down, the youth appeared before them.

‘Here am I, the youth whose health you have drunk; and now give me the bracelet that matches a jewelled band which of a surety fell from the arm of one of you. A Jew tried to take it from me, but I would not let him have it, and he dragged me before the kadi, who kept my bracelet till I could show him its fellow. And I have been wandering hither and thither in search of it, and that is how I have found myself in such strange places.’

‘Come with us, then,’ said the maidens, and they led him down a passage into a hall, out of which opened many chambers, each one of greater splendour than the last. From a shelf heaped up with gold and jewels the eldest sister took a bracelet, which in every way was exactly like the one which was in the judge’s keeping, and fastened it to the youth’s arm.

‘Go at once and show this to the kadi,’ said she, ‘and he will give you the fellow to it.’

‘I shall never forget you,’ answered the youth, ‘but it may be long before we meet again, for I shall never rest till I have found fear.’ Then he went his way, and won the bracelet from the kadi. After this, he again set forth in his quest of fear.

On and on walked the youth, but fear never crossed his path, and one day he entered a large town, where all the streets and squares were so full of people, he could hardly pass between them.

‘Why are all these crowds gathered together?’ he asked of a man who stood next him.

‘The ruler of this country is dead,’ was the reply, ‘and as he had no children, it is needful to choose a successor. Therefore each morning one of the sacred pigeons is let loose from the tower yonder, and on whomsoever the bird shall perch, that man is our king. In a few minutes the pigeon will fly. Wait and see what happens.’

Every eye was fixed on the tall tower which stood in the centre of the chief square, and the moment that the sun was seen to stand straight over it, a door was opened and a beautiful pigeon, gleaming with pink and grey, blue and green, came rushing through the air. Onward it flew, onward, onward, till at length it rested on the head of the boy. Then a great shout arose:

‘The king! the king!’ but as he listened to the cries, a vision, swifter than lightning, flashed across his brain. He saw himself seated on a throne, spending his life trying, and never succeeding, to make poor people rich; miserable people happy; bad people good; never doing anything he wished to do, not able even to marry the girl that he loved.

‘No! no!’ he shrieked, hiding his face in his hands; but the crowds who heard him thought he was overcome by the grandeur that awaited him, and paid no heed.

‘Well, to make quite sure, let fly more pigeons,’ said they, but each pigeon followed where the first had led, and the cries arose louder than ever:

‘The king! the king!’ And as the young man heard, a cold shiver, that he knew not the meaning of, ran through him.

‘This is fear whom you have so long sought,’ whispered a voice, which seemed to reach his ears alone. And the youth bowed his head as the vision once more flashed before his eyes, and he accepted his doom, and made ready to pass his life with fear beside him.

[scarefox]

Faun - Hellfest 2023 - ARTE Concert

[rhianna]

Her fate during these long centuries can perhaps be best compared to the grain of wheat lying in the mummy's tomb for generations, which on being restored to earth springs to life again. It is an extraordinary instance of an apparently dead and forgotten nation, reborn by the help of Russia, the mother of the Slav nations, and freed from the Turk. On the successful issue of the Russo-Turkish war in 1878, the Powers of Europe decided at the Treaty of Berlin to create the Principality of Bulgaria, detaching it from the Ottoman Empire and making it an independent Principality, but sub- ject to the Sultan and paying tribute to Turkey. By its terms the Prince of Bulgaria was to be freely chosen by the Bul- garian nation and accepted by the Sublime Porte with the approval of the Great Powers, and no member of a reigning European family might be elected. *

[turqishcharm]

Turkish youth from Kosovo in their traditional clothes. Doğru Yol Ensemble.

[all-turkic]

Mother's Remedy: Gülçehre's Healing Touch for Boğaç

Book of Dede Korkut: Boğaç calmed his mother, vowing no harm to the mountain. Gülçehre, unable to produce milk, concocted a healing...

Boğaç woke to his mother’s cries. He comforted her, urging not to curse Kazılık mountain and its creatures, but rather his father, the source of their grief. Boğaç assured her of Hızır’s healing touch and tended to his wound. Gülçehre, resourceful, gathered mountain flowers. Despite her dry breasts, she managed a mix of her blood-tainted milk and crushed flowers, applying it to Boğaç’s wound. An…

[rooksamoris]

Absolutely need to tell someone about this idk why it took me so long to figure it out but thanks to my job and having access to an Arabic textbook (In southeast asia where non-muslims dont use Arabic) i am bamboozled and flabberghasted to find out Jamil is the transliteration of beautiful in Arabic

i honestly adore his name because of it!! jamil <33 i can imagine him getting flustered when being called jamil, and it not being his name

"oh, ya jamil (oh, beautiful)~" he pulls his hood down over his face and averts his gaze, "you aren't as sly as you think," he mutters. his face and ears felt so warm all of a sudden.

sometimes i also wish they gave him an arabic or farsi last name too?? hanash means snake in arabic, and i literally know people with that last name.

on that topic, i do wanna mention that snakes being evil are a western concept. islamically, they have been used in various forms of art (such as in hospitals), but they are also depicted as stinging away evil spirits. the islamic tale of adam and hauwa(eve) does not have a snake that tempts them to eat from the tree, so snakes were never evil. islam also advises against killing animals, unless it is in an act of self-defense, such as during ancient times when they were used in assassination.

i could not find the article i read it from, but snakes are also used to symbolize motherhood and the divinity of mothers. the act of shedding skin is like bringing in a new life and all that jazz.

there's also the middle eastern story of shahmaran (i believe her name is 'queen of snakes' in farsi. shah = king, but her name is always translated to 'queen of snakes), a half-snake half-woman. in "one thousand and one nights" or 'alf layla wa layla', shahmaran is not portrayed as bad nor good. in some of the stories, she was respected and people wanted to earn her respect, or she was like an oracle who warned people of danger.

to this day, in kurdish folklore, shahmaran symbolizes good luck, and depictions of her can be found in some homes. even in the stories where she dies, she is more sympathetic.

anyways, i rambled a lot. here's some art of shahmaran by turkish artists, sibel dogan. dogan does a lot of traditional turkish and middle eastern artwork on saatchi art btw

[turkicculture]

"Kadın Barları", a group of Turkish folk dances performed by women in Northern Erzurum. Bar is also danced in other provinces of Northeastern Türkiye

[mariacallous]

Looking for a Shabbat dinner centerpiece or a hearty midweek meal? Picture cubes of eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, tomatoes and potatoes cooked together to create that special harmony only veggies that grew together in the sun achieve. You’re thinking of ratatouille, right? But what I have in mind is a heartier dish from Romania and Bulgaria called ghiveci or guvech.

Romanian ghiveci and Bulgarian guvech are indeed very similar to the famous ratatouille, but being peasant’s food, they’re more rustic and substantial. The veggies for guvech are cut into large, uneven chunks, and can be cooked all together at once, while for ratatouille, each component is fried separately before they are combined. This makes guvech preparation much easier, and allows for creative improvisations; you can easily add any vegetables in season. Besides the mandatory eggplant, zucchini, peppers, tomatoes and potatoes, green beans or okra are common. Guvech is seasoned very simply with salt, black pepper and occasionally paprika, to let the produce shine. The Bulgarian version is cooked with fatty meat, while most Romanian versions are vegan.

“In Bulgaria, guvech used to be cooked in a clay pot called gyuveche,” Etti Ben Yosef, a Bulgarian Jew who lives in Israel, told me. “The stew was cooked in the oven for many hours at low temperature.” 

But these days, when Ben Yosef makes guvech for Shabbat dinner, she uses a pressure cooker to precook the beef short ribs before adding them to the vegetables. Then, she cooks the entire stew on the stove for a long time, putting it in the oven for the final hour to give it a nice crust. She feels lucky to share the recipe with her adult children. “I keep the tradition so the kids will remember,” she said.

Guvech’s origins can be traced to the Ottoman Empire that ruled the Balkan region for hundreds of years. The original Turkish dish, called güveç, is cooked in a wide, clay dish by the same name. It’s very similar to the Bulgarian guvech and includes chicken, lamb or beef. There are many other variations of the dish throughout the Balkans. Bosnian Đuveč or djuvec is the name of a clay pot as well as a veggie casserole that’s cooked with rice; Greek giouvetsi is also cooked with rice. In Romania, the eggplant-tomato version is considered summer ghiveci, while winter ghiveci is prepared with carrots, cabbage, cauliflower and mushrooms. 

Bulgarian Sephardi Jews and Romanian Ashkenazi Jews brought guvech to Israel (where it’s pronounced “ghe-vech”) and made the dish widely popular. No wonder, given that eggplant and tomatoes are so beloved in Israel and are of such high quality. Early Israeli versions can be found in Molly Bar David’s “Folkloric Cookbook” from 1964. The first version includes 14 different vegetables (including celery root and cauliflower) and meat. The second version is for Romanian ghiveci that’s baked with a whole fish on top.

The vegetarian Romanian version is probably most common in Israel nowadays. And although it is  traditionally served over rice, I like to serve it on another Romanian staple, mamaliga. It’s the definition of comfort food. 

This recipe is the Bulgarian version of guvech that includes meat. You can make the recipe vegetarian by simply omitting the meat. The rest of the ingredients and instructions stay the same.

Notes:

It is recommended, and easy, to add any seasonal vegetables to the basic guvech. Consider adding: 1 lb butternut squash or sweet potato, cut into ½-inch dice; ½ lb whole okra, stems removed; or ½ lb green beans, cut into 1-inch pieces.

You can cook the meat, if using, up to two days in advance. Store the cooked meat in the fridge with the cooking liquid. Before using, remove from the fridge and discard the fat on the top of the pot (the fat will be solid and white in color). 

Guvech keeps in the fridge for up to four days.