Snippet
Ageing
Community
Culture
Football
3 min read

Can we show respect across the generations?

A footballer’s taunt still hurts.

Jean is a consultant working with financial and Christian organisations. She also writes and broadcasts.

A TV screengrab shows a football manager walking while a passing rival player says (captioned) 'stay humble'.
Haaland harangues.
Sky Sports

If you are a football fan, you might be flabbergasted, curious and maybe a bit gleeful about the recent “dip” in form of Manchester City.  It runs deeper for me; I’m an Arsenal fan.  

So let me address the elephant in the room before I go any further.  Yes, we haven’t won the league for 20 years and yes, we’re everyone’s banter club, I get it. But Haaland’s “Stay humble” comment, directed at my team, was a lot for us  and here’s my take on why.  

I grew up in an African household. I have been taught to respect my elders. We aren’t allowed to be overly familiar with anyone older than us. You don’t randomly pat your elders on the back. There is a level of reverence that is not only expected but covertly and overtly demanded. Almost every child of African heritage has been chastised by a parent or caregiver with some version of “Is that your classmate?”, after taking things a bit too far with an aunty or uncle, aka anyone more than 10 years older than you.  

So, you can imagine my shock like so many Arsenal fans when Haaland decided that he was going to tap our manager on the shoulder and utter the words, ’Stay humble.’  

Football is a game of banter. I agree. Tottenham, Manchester United…. say no more, as we say in South London. My brother thinks I dislike Manchester United more than I support Arsenal.  That could be truetrue, but I digress.  

I would have completely understood if Haaland had done what he had done and said what he said to Saka, Gabriel or any other Arsenal player. But the manager, no, that’s taking the mick. The manager is off-limits he is supposed to be respected by the players.  

That’s why Arsenal fans, were celebrating the way we did when the boys humbly beat Man City 5-1.  

I know, it’s been a few weeks, now.  I’m a Christian I am supposed to be over it. But I’m not.  

The older I get the more I understand the wisdom of respecting those with more experience than me. Not just because it was what I was taught, but because I want my parents' generation to be respected. I want to be respected when I am older and I want my children’s generation to be respected, too.   

We live in a moment in time where the differences between generations are often magnified. Intergenerational collaboration doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue and it isn’t something you hear every day.  But I am reminded by my faith that there is wisdom in age and long life brings understanding. Strength and passion are found in young people. Communities work best when the young and the old work together in mutual respect.  

 If I want to live in a society that respects all generations, my role as a millennial (someone who sits awkwardly in the middle), is to ask myself two questions:  

When I meet someone older than me, would I be happy if someone were to treat my mum or dad the way I am treating this person?  

If they are younger than me, would I want someone to treat my siblings like this?  

Join with us - Behind the Seen

Seen & Unseen is free for everyone and is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you’re enjoying Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Alongside other benefits (book discounts etc.), you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing what I’m reading and my reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin

Editor-in-Chief

Article
Culture
Suffering
5 min read

Protection from evil shouldn’t rely on a blue glass bead

Faith goes beyond culture in my beloved Türkiye

Becky is a a writer living in Istanbul.

Blue evil eye charms hang among a jewellery display
Vik Walker, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

‘Mashallah, your baby is so ugly!’. 

The elderly ‘auntie’ stopped me in the street, exclaiming over my 3-month-old baby, who was strapped to my front, and before I could translate in my mind what she’d said, quick as lightning, she had safety-pinned a teeny tiny glass blue eyeball to the sling.  

I had just moved to Türkiye from the UK and was waist-deep in culture shock. My new friend explained to me that she had pinned the ‘nazar’, a little blue bead in the shape of an eye, on my baby to protect him from evil spirits or anyone's jealousy that would cause them to wish him harm. Mashallah means ‘God wills it’, and calling the baby ‘ugly’ was also for double protection, to distract the evil eye from the fact that he was cute (he was!). 

This belief in an evil eye dates back to ancient Greek and Roman times. The little blue nazar represents both the evil eye itself - a widely-feared, dangerous power that could harm others, including their crops or livelihood – and at the time offers protection against it. From Azerbaijan to Pakistan, multiple countries in central Asia and the Middle East believe in the nazar or a variation of it.  

Today, the nazar is such a deeply ingrained cultural thread of life here in Türkiye that, nine years later, I hardly notice it anymore. Nazars are the country’s unofficial brand logo, and the bright azure blue with a white iris and black pupil is the colour palette for Türkiye. 

Wherever I go, little blue eyeballs stare at me. From crinkly-faced kind teyzes (aunties) to the young influencer girls on Instagram, nazar necklaces are everywhere. Glass blue nazars decorate walls, tables, and trees. 

Just yesterday, I was at a friend's clothes studio; for her grand opening, all the gifts from well-wishing friends for her new business were nazar-themed: a tray, a paperweight, and earrings.  

So how does ‘nazar’ work? If someone compliments you or anything about you, it's believed that it can attract the evil eye with a harmful curse against you or your possessions. To cancel out the curse, there's a selection of phrases you can say, including ‘mashallah,’ or ‘Allah korusun’ (may God protect you).  

Other ways you can ward off the unwanted attention of the evil eye include avoiding staring at children in the eyes for too long, spitting on the ground, and, of course, the most popular, hanging a blue glass evil eye bead wherever you can (there is even a huge one embedded on the front door threshold of our apartment.) 

A close friend always tells me to pray a special nazar prayer over my youngest son because he has bright blue eyes, which she believes makes him more susceptible to the evil eye's powers. I respectfully tell her that I have a different belief, and I pray for my family for protection from Jesus. (Whom Muslims revere as a prophet, so this is acceptable to her). 

As a woman of faith who has lived in Türkiye for nine years, there is so much of the beautiful Turkish culture that has become mine, and for that, I am so grateful. Living cross-culturally is a little like having a heart transplant - there's no going back. My views on health, parenting, family, and community are now all so broadened and different. But the nazar trend is something I haven't adopted. When I go shopping with my girlfriends, and they browse stunning gold necklaces with a tiny ‘nazar’ embedded in the pendant, I won’t buy one for myself.  

Because faith goes one step beyond culture. 

The evil eye is based on a superstition about jealousy that has malice at its core. It wants to wreak harm on others. Now, we don’t need to look far to see that we humans are pretty good at being selfish and greedy and hurting others to get what we want. Scroll through the news for five minutes, and we’re convinced of the presence of evil in our world.  

But superstitious belief in the powers of nazar is not the way to ward it off. 

The dictionary definition of superstition is: ‘a belief or way of behaving that is based on fear of the unknown and faith in magic or luck: a belief that certain events or things will bring good or bad luck. 'Both superstition and faith are about believing in things that can’t be seen. Superstition puts it all on you to follow some rules to avoid bad luck or evil. But that’s a bit like shooting in the dark. Believing in the nazar means you can obey all the rules of the system and hang blue beads everywhere… and you can still experience evil and suffering. A loved one gets sick. Problems at work. Whatever it might be. So, either the nazar didn’t work, or you didn’t do it right. 

Faith, by contrast, still means you can experience evil and suffering – but the difference this time is, the outcome isn’t attached to a physical action you took. It's about a relationship with someone who cares about our fears rather than trusting in a blind action that may or may not work. And if we want protection from evil, we can we simply ask for it. No blue beads necessary.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief