"Well, I can leave our jazz bands without one pang," I replied.
"But you may find worse things in Angora than Jazz bands."
Men like Fethi Bey, ready to meet all emergencies without complaint, make the right material to face the problem of Reconstruction, in a country ruined from end to end; and what a comfort it is to meet a man without a grievance!
When I attempted to sympathise with him for having to ride, because no motor could take these snow-blocked roads, he declared that "exercise would do him good." When his horse stumbled, "it might have been worse."
Yet, on my account, he apologised again and again for the condition of Angora; and I could only compare his humorous comparison with the Savoy, to Dr. Réchad's strange attempt at consolation: "You certainly won't need any evening dresses."
It is, no doubt, the gift for always making the best of a bad bargain, that works for peace in the Turkish home. Your husband is not perfect, but "he might be worse"; the food is bad, but there might not be any; if the rooms are not clean, "we have known dirtier. It is an "accommodating" point of view!
There is a story by Nasreddin Hodja, the great Turkish wit, which happily illustrates this racial characteristic. The Anatolian lived in constant terror of a vociferous wife, though no doubt he often reflected that there were worse women in the world. One day, however, someone told him that she had fallen into the river, and was being carried away by the tide. "Don't worry," said he, with a stoic's calm, "she will go against it. She always does."
On another occasion, this man of wit had carried a basket of figs to the lame Timur, on an official visit of respect. Timur amused himself by throwing the fruit in the Hodja's face; but at each blow he cried out: "Allah is Great." When asked why he so often praised God, he answered: "My wife wanted me to bring you apples." Since Timur was privileged, if it pleased
