Welcome to ANSSA!

“Do you know her?!” she asked in Turkish, as she shoved her phone into my face, showing me a picture of a Black girl I had never seen before. “Yes!” I replied, followed by screams of excitement from the four girls I had just met in the elevator of my new home. Why did I say yes? I don’t know, maybe it was the excitement or the thrill of being doted on that made me agree with whatever they said, paired with my barely understanding them. Despite the hand gestures and random words, such as “yes,” “okay,” and “beautiful girl,” they used to help me understand.

            That’s my earliest memory of a “fan-girl” encounter in Turkiye. They gushed over my hair, my skin, and asked me where I’m from, to which I responded Nigeria, prompting them to ask if I knew their Nigerian friend. I then bid them goodbye while heading to my room on the eleventh floor, after saying “Teșekkur” instead of “Teşekkürler” or “Teşekkür ederim” to their incessant praise.       

          As one of only six international students in a government dormitory, aka KYK dormitory, it’s been quite an experience. From the lunch ladies sneaking us extra food to our roommates complaining about our endless family calls. No one really knows the struggle except us. Sharing a room with three other girls peacefully seemed like a notion I could hardly fathom as someone who had never been a boarder. However, I had the joy of living with amazing people who made my time here truly special. Communication with them was a breeze, as they all spoke English, and although they have their flaws, I would never trade them for anyone else.

          I didn’t have any expectations for the food before I moved here. I suppose I just assumed it wouldn’t be so different, you know? They love rice; we also love rice. We have shawarma, they have döner. “How different could it be?”

Different.

Very different.

Undeniably different.

            Every cafeteria visit began with a prayer for the courage to politely decline, but ended with piles of food on my plate, wondering how on earth I’d finish it all. I guess things started to get better when I learned how to skip the soup section slyly and move on to the other food sections without the ablas drawing me back. The many food options are one of the few perks of living in a government dormitory; there’s always something for everyone. Whether it’s the dessert option, snacks from the canteen, or items from the dorm’s Pazar WhatsApp group – the online marketplace for literally anything and everything. From green and yellow sandals to rent for a day to a pack of 2,000 lira exclusive cigarettes, you can get anything you want at any time of the day, at a discounted price, of course, or by trade. Aside from the lovely view advantage, staying on the eleventh floor provides us with the freedom to cook, among other forbidden things, without the fear of being caught. The dorm managers rarely leave their offices on the ground floor due to the constant barrage of complaints and problems that come with managing almost a thousand girls, allowing us to use our prohibited materials freely; another perk.

              Regardless of these highlights, I can’t say I’ve never wished for my own place. Sharing a mini fridge with three people is a full-time space battle, but what I can say is that I’ve never felt out of place or unwelcome for any reason whatsoever. The interactions I’ve had and the people I’ve met have taught me various lessons in one way or another. Although I haven’t had another “Do you know this person?!” interaction in my dormitory, I’ve had many other interesting ones that leave me puzzled each time. Having the opportunity to call a KYK dorm my home is one I’m very grateful for, and I can’t wait to create more precious memories with the people around me. I now have the fortitude to say no to the ever-persistent ablas who insist on my trying all the food options, for the hundredth time, and I hope the incoming students develop it quickly!