Bro’s fumbling the bag here, nooo!!
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Zeynel spent his entire life in madrasah. Madrasahs are schools attached to mosques, and they teach things from theology and poetry to logic and the sciences (maths, chemistry, medicine, astronomy).
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At the time, Ayse is 18, Zeynel is 16/almost 17. Hence his joking over her starting the marriage search so late. Generally though, it’s not uncommon to marry during late teens or early adulthood, and there’s a larger age range for marriage among the common people than in royalty. It depends on the socio-economic context.
↓ Transcript
Ayşe is taken aback by Zeynel's comment, but she doesn’t let it bother her. As a carpet merchant’s apprentice, she is used to how a conversation can move in all sorts of strange directions. She replies, unapologetically, “What?”
Zeynel is taken aback by this questioning, mostly due to the unexpected forcefulness of this single word - what -, but he is a little bothered. A little nervous. He knows he did something wrong somewhere, but it’s too late. He has to offer an explanation.
“W-well, we’re the eldest and unmarried. What else is this meeting for?”
She studies him. “So you’re not interested at all?”
He squeaks. Now he’s goofed up. “No, no, no! Not like that! It’s just, I, erm… sorry. Forget it.”
He gulps and looks away, embarrassed.
Ayşe takes a moment to assess Zeynel. Her first impression of him is correct, in that he is quiet and nervous. Someone who would rather blend in than stand out. But she never realised before the extent of his confusion with his environment. Now she feels self-conscious. Has she been too overwhelming for him?
She changes her approach, and sits down next to him, careful not to breach his personal space. With a gentler voice, she asks, “What’s the matter, Zeynel? How many times have you gone through this?”
He lets out an amused sigh. “ I furthered my studies to avoid the call, but I can't run away forever. So here I am, haha.” He laughs nervously. “And you??”
She shrugs. “It’s been a weird two months.”
He replies, “Oh.”
This isn’t an ‘oh’ that is nervous. It is a grappling hook in the form of a sound.
He continues. “Aren’t you a bit too old to start looking now?”
Ayşe snorts. “Haha. Very funny. I’ve got my reasons. I don’t want to bore you though.”
He pleads. “No, no. Please tell me. I love listening to stories.”
It is true. His voice reflects it just as much.
Ayşe is glad now that he is feeling more comfortable. And that he is eager to listen. Zeynel lays down stretched on the grass beside her, cuddling his baby brother by his side.
She begins: “Suit yourself. You know what my family does, don’t you?
He replies, “Erm, yes? Your family makes the best carpets in Uşak. My baba is keen to get one while we’re here.”
Zeynel is taken aback by this questioning, mostly due to the unexpected forcefulness of this single word - what -, but he is a little bothered. A little nervous. He knows he did something wrong somewhere, but it’s too late. He has to offer an explanation.
“W-well, we’re the eldest and unmarried. What else is this meeting for?”
She studies him. “So you’re not interested at all?”
He squeaks. Now he’s goofed up. “No, no, no! Not like that! It’s just, I, erm… sorry. Forget it.”
He gulps and looks away, embarrassed.
Ayşe takes a moment to assess Zeynel. Her first impression of him is correct, in that he is quiet and nervous. Someone who would rather blend in than stand out. But she never realised before the extent of his confusion with his environment. Now she feels self-conscious. Has she been too overwhelming for him?
She changes her approach, and sits down next to him, careful not to breach his personal space. With a gentler voice, she asks, “What’s the matter, Zeynel? How many times have you gone through this?”
He lets out an amused sigh. “ I furthered my studies to avoid the call, but I can't run away forever. So here I am, haha.” He laughs nervously. “And you??”
She shrugs. “It’s been a weird two months.”
He replies, “Oh.”
This isn’t an ‘oh’ that is nervous. It is a grappling hook in the form of a sound.
He continues. “Aren’t you a bit too old to start looking now?”
Ayşe snorts. “Haha. Very funny. I’ve got my reasons. I don’t want to bore you though.”
He pleads. “No, no. Please tell me. I love listening to stories.”
It is true. His voice reflects it just as much.
Ayşe is glad now that he is feeling more comfortable. And that he is eager to listen. Zeynel lays down stretched on the grass beside her, cuddling his baby brother by his side.
She begins: “Suit yourself. You know what my family does, don’t you?
He replies, “Erm, yes? Your family makes the best carpets in Uşak. My baba is keen to get one while we’re here.”
