Practicing activity : rhythmanalysis of a Turkish women's walking group in Amsterdam

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PRACTICING ACTIVITY:

Rhythmanalysis of a Turkish Women’s

Walking Group in Amsterdam

Ezgi Evrim Özkol 11788755

University of Amsterdam

Medical Anthropology and Sociology Master’s Thesis 2019 Supervisor: Prof. Dr. Anita Hardon

Second Reader: Dr. René Gerrets Date of Submission: 20.08.2019

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my parents Cennet and İbrahim Özkol who made everything possible for me- being born into our little family is the biggest privilege I could have ever asked for. I would also like to thank my little brother Ekin Gür for his daily meme support which made me laugh throughout this process.

I am very grateful to have Deniz Coşkun and Altan Akdoğan as my support system, thank you for bearing with me over a decade of ups and downs -and you know there have been many downs. A special thanks goes to Gizem Bilkay -my sister afar- for her support as well as being my alarm clock from thousands of kilometers away; and Sevgi Uğur Mutluay for always asking the right questions. I could not have gone through “the process” without Luise Schurian, thank you for endless coffee sessions at the inner yard of Crea and your inspirational companionship.

I am also very grateful to my supervisor Prof. Dr. Anita Hardon and my second reader Dr. René Gerrets for their patience, wisdom, support and guidance; and Prof. Dr. Annamarie Mol for smashing ten-minute talks.

I would also like to thank Prof. Dr. Helga Rittersberger-Tılıç and Dr. Katharina Bodirsky; who have been truly inspirational throughout my academic journey, I look up to you. This thesis could not be possible without the amazing “walking girls” of Nieuw-West whom I unfortunately cannot name; you have my deepest gratitude for sharing your stories with me.

Lastly, I would like to thank my dear friend Katja Meglen whom we have lost this year. Thank you for being my family in Ljubljana; your kindness, strength, open mind and the way you handled the bad hand you were dealt inspires me, every day.

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INTRODUCTION & PROBLEM STATEMENT

“Be active”: a message -or command- that one can come across on magazine covers, as motivational interior design interventions on the walls of the gym, printed on sportswear as well as brochures1_of

the World Health Organization (WHO) and healthcare literature. It is short and to the point: it works as a reminder as well as a motivational message in command form. It is simultaneously a prescription and a goal in itself; nobody wants to be “inactive”. But what does it mean to “be active”?

The context in which one can come across to this message on a regular day gives us a hint. “Being active” almost exclusively means physical activity2_{. WHO’s vision for a “more active world” in a global}

plan of action brochure for example opens up the discussion with benefits of physical activity in “prevention and treatment of noncommunicable diseases”3_{which is followed by listing its potential}

benefits for mental health and wellbeing too (2018). This conceptualization of “being active” as being physically active finds its reflection in academic literature as well; it pops up in articles across disciplines as a healthy lifestyle factor that influences life expectancy (Yanping, Pan, Wang, Liu, & Dhana, 2018), as a health behavior that delays the onset of age or lifestyle related disability (Mehta & Myrskylä, 2017), as a dominant component in the framework of “active aging” (Boudiny, 2013), as a key area of intervention for obesity in children, adults, ethnic minorities, women as well as combinations of these groups (Stralen, Vries, Mudde, Bolman, & Lechner, 2009; Seo & Sa, 2010; Collier et al., 2018) or as an advice to reduce development of diabetes for those at risk (Chang et al., 2018). So “being active” through physical activity is good; it improves metabolic health, contributes to wellbeing, prevents diseases and even reduces the costs of healthcare (Towne et al., 2018) especially for the at-risk populations. Overall, the command is just: being active is good for everyone.

Having established that, the next logical task for the policy makers, healthcare professionals as well as researchers is to measure the levels of physical activity, locate the problematic groups, and nudge them towards “being active”. Let’s exemplify the case through levels of activity within the Netherlands. According to the Health Council of the Netherlands’ report on “Prevention and Treatment of Overweight and Obesity”; half of the Dutch population can be characterized as “inactive”(Kemper,

1_{Tailored to the reign of social media “#beactive”}

2_{Obviously there are some exceptions especially in active aging literature calling for a more well-rounded}

approach: see (Boudiny, 2013)

3_{Such as heart disease, diabetes and various types of cancer as well as “conditions” such as overweight and} obesity.

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Stasse-Woltuis, & Bosman, 2004). But a closer look at those numbers reveal a discrepancy. Whereas more than half of the general population meets the prescribed levels for physical activity, this number drops to thirty nine percent amongst Turkish and Moroccan women. (Romeike, Lechner, Vries, & Oenema, 2016). So, ethnicity and gender light up as significant variables in determining activity levels, so far so good; we have our target group. But to be able to “nudge” efficiently, we also have to know why these groups are not so active in the first place. Here “difference” becomes something more tangible; it has something to do with being Moroccan or Turkish as well as being a woman. Economic status and education levels are also brought up as variables within that; (Romeike, Abidi, Lechner, Vries, & Oenema, 2016) but they come naturally within the overarching category of the “Turkish/Moroccan women”. Here is where the “how” of the nudge is located; as the numerous studies concerning these women (Hosper, Nicolaou, Valkengoed, Nierkens, & Stronks, 2011; Teuscher, Bukman, Baak, & Feskens, 2015; Romeike, Abidi, et al., 2016) illustrate how this “difference” comes in the form of different knowledges/attitudes/beliefs regarding being active; as well as the “perceived barriers” to it. This differences emerge as things to be adapted or tailored -or nudged- towards certain implicit “ontonorms” as discussed by Mol (2013).

So “being active” is something to be strived for; yet for some, there are obstacles in the way. The aim of this thesis is not to discuss these obstacles or fill in the blanks of the reality which is “difference” by adding more dimensions to it through a detailed qualitative study. Rather, taking the variables “ethnicity” and “gender” -which figure as the basis of the “difference”- as a starting point; my aim is to answer the question “How is ‘being active’ done?” through looking at the practices of a walking group who happen to meet the necessary requirements of this marked category of “difference”. My point in taking this approach is not to take a positive spin and correcting a certain mis/representation about the women who fall under this category; but instead to disentangle the single story of “inactive migrant women” (Özkol, 2019). Throughout this thesis, I will foreground the practices which go into the makings of “being active”. My argument is that these practices reveal quite a different storyline for “being active” compared to the everyday as well as academic connotations of the command I have discussed above; both in terms of “What is ‘being active’?” as well as “How it is done?” and the ways in which “being active” relates to wellbeing.

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RESEARCH LOCATION

I have conducted my fieldwork with a women’s walking group at a Buurthuis1_{located in Amsterdam}

Nieuw-West. For ethical reasons; I cannot disclose the exact location of the neighborhood in which the Buurthuis is located, but it is in the Nieuw-West area which is characterized as a low-income neighborhood mostly composed of residents with non-Western backgrounds (Gemeente Amsterdam, 2016). Its residents are characterized by the healthcare professionals working at the general area as having poor health as well as inadequate health behavior (Broeder, Uiters, Hofland, Wagemakers, & Schuit, 2018).

THEORETICAL INSPIRATIONS

There are multiple ways to tell a story; and theory provides an edge to that. As it can be sensed from my introduction and the way I phrase my research questions; I take a praxiographic approach towards the material at hand, I start from practices. The way I chose to tell the stories of the walking group keeps in line with that spirit: inspired by Bueger’s (2014) discussion of “practice of doing practice theory driven research” (p.385) I include my practice of praxiography within the story. Which means alongside the story I take the reader into the dynamics of my analytical process through tracing back my footsteps in the field. This way of telling the story includes the moments where my experience in the field has led me towards taking up particular theoretical approaches and leaving others. For that reason, this section will not include a long discussion of a theoretical framework and my justifications on taking this particular road; but it will include brief descriptions of my theoretical inspirations. My first source of inspiration is praxiography: a way of looking into entities through keeping “the practicalities of doing disease [or those entities] unbracketed” as introduced by Annamarie Mol (Mol, 2002 p.119). Keeping the practicalities unbracketed entails paying attention to everything that goes into the makings of the practice; things, people, bodies, techniques, time as well as space. As Bueger (2014) describes it beautifully; “praxiography is less interested in ethno (culture) but in praxis (practice)” (p.285) which allows me to keep the notion of “difference” empty throughout my analysis and focus on the ways in which it becomes relevant -or not- within practice without having to resort to static accounts and descriptions of “inactive migrant women”. He also outlines particular strategies

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to access certain openings for foregrounding practices; mainly focusing on “sites”, “moments of crisis”, “following objects” or a combination of three and any other creative strategy the praxiographer can formulate tailored to the practice she is looking at. The idea behind this strategy is to connect what is being observed with the less visible “tacit type of knowledges” (ibid. p.285) within practices. I take advantage of these strategies with slight modifications which I unravel within the story.

The second source of inspiration is not that far away: material semiotics. I find M’Charek’s (2013) definition of material semiotics quite clear and practical: “Material semiotics derives from the study of signs. […] Words do not have an essence by and of themselves but only in relation to each other. In material semiotics, this method of juxtaposition is made to include things as well”. Informed by this, doing praxiography should not only entail looking at everything that goes into the makings of the practice but also the relations between those things. Vogel (2016) in her dissertation, employs material semiotics to dwell on care practices for overweight and obesity and asks the question how (self)caring for weight is done. Her study offers great insights in terms of how different care practices are articulated through different relations and configurations of bodies, food, environment and subjects. These differences are not of perspectives, but different ways of doing enact different bodies, subjects, things and environment. In a similar fashion, Pols (2011) focuses on the practices of patients with COPD to explore how the disease is enacted differently which unravels new, different and embodied positions that would otherwise be invisible (Özkol, 2019). Dwelling on “Subject positions” allow her to situate the agency within practices empirically. Instead of taking “human agency” as an a priori given, she looks at situations in which “particular positions are enacted or done”. I find this emphasis on relations quite promising and relevant for getting out of the frame of representation which has very limited options for “the migrant women”.

My last source of inspiration comes from a seemingly remote body of work: rhythmanalysis. Lefebvre introduces “rhythms” as features of spaces in his discussion of the social production of space (Lefebvre, 1991) which has been quite influential especially in urban sociology. His tripartite conceptualization of spaces is beyond the scope of my discussion here, but his main argument is that spaces are socially produced through different modes of production; and rhythms provide cues to how they are formed. Rather than spaces in themselves; he is interested in how they are produced. He elaborates this notion of “rhythms” of spaces in Rhythmanalysis (2004) as “the creator of forms” in spatial relations. Much like his discussion regarding production of spaces, he is not interested in the rhythms themselves; but rather how they are formed differently through relations between people,

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things and environment. Rhythms are productive; they produce spaces which also can be productive through particular social practices. Therefore, he introduces rhythmanalysis as a method that guides the rhythmanalyst through studying the formation of the rhythms; by paying attention to the ways they are formed through relations. Since there is a temporal aspect to rhythms; the task for the rhythmanalyst is to capture those relations -and “things”- that goes into the makings of rhythms as

presences by paying attention to their formation. There are moments within the temporality of the

rhythms to be observed, as they present “potential for radical change, for overturning of existing orthodoxies, or simply correlate with turning points”(Vojcic, 2008). He defines three forms in which the rhythms come together: isorhythmia (the equality of the rhythms), eurhythmia (a “healthy” association of the rhythms) and arrythmia (disruption of the rhythms), it is the task of the rhythmanalyst to entangle the ways in which they are formed.

In line with Lefebvre’s suggestion, I employ rhythmanalysis as a method which conveniently allows me to depart from some assumptions he makes in his grand narrative. There seem to be a lot of parallels between rhythmanalysis and praxiography; in my analysis I attempt to bring them together. Throughout my analysis, I look at practices of “being active” as done by the walking group through a special focus on their rhythms; paying attention to how the relations between bodies, socialities, materialities and the physical environment come together to form them. Employing rhythmanalysis this way opens up the ground for me to discuss the spaces they produce for multiple ways of “being active”; which paves the way for taking these spaces as situations where different subject positions become visible. I take advantage of both “arrythmias” and “moments of crisis”; “sites” and “spaces” to look for both “presences” and “tacit knowledges”; which allows me to argue for a broader definition of “being active” that relates to “wellbeing” differently.

METHODS AND SOME REFLECTIONS

Accessing the Field and Adjusting the Rhythms of Research

Here is my chance to come clean: I initially set out to do my research on weightloss practices of Turkish women. I had a grand plan too; I would not limit myself to a walking group but visit multiple gyms at different locations in Amsterdam to really complicate the “difference” which I was after. After going through two weeks of struggle to find respondents at the mixed gyms and parks; I have decided

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to shift my strategy and downsize my fieldwork. Then I found Cemile Teyze1_{-a friend of a distant}

relative of mine- a prominent member of the women’s walking group in Nieuw West. Acting as my gatekeeper, she eased my access to the group as a researcher.

The women’s walking group gathers at a Buurthuis in Nieuw-West every Monday around nine in the morning; they go for a walk and then have breakfast in one room allocated for their use on Mondays until midday. In addition to walking and having breakfast together; they organize monthly trips as well as workshops and courses on various topics. The group was founded fifteen years ago when the founding members met at a primary school in the neighborhood; but moved their activities to the Buurthuis eight years ago. Depending on the day as well as the occasion, the number of participants can range between twenty to forty. It is a mixed group, roughly half of the women are Turkish and the other half is Moroccan. There are also two Surinamese, one Iraqi and one Dutch member who routinely participate in the activities of the group. I have primarily focused on the Turkish participants due to language barriers. But I have also had a chance to engage with the rest of the group with a little help2_{and a lot of mutual effort}3_{. By being there, I also got to observe the interaction between the two}

groups during talks, walks and trips.

Nearly a month into my research however; the walking group took a six-week break for Ramadan, something I should have foreseen when I was planning my research. But I decided to take advantage of this break by scheduling interviews; which were nearly all cancelled as talking was too tiring while keeping fast. This obstacle prolonged my fieldwork until the beginning of July but also allowed me an opportunity to experience the seasonal dynamics of “being active”. Moreover, I got to participate in some special events organized by the group before, after and during Ramadan including feests4_and

dinners for breaking fast all of which contributed to my analysis. Overall, I have spent nearly two months with the walking group on regular Mondays -excluding the Ramadan break- as well as joining every event they held during that time period.

1_{Teyze: literally “aunt” in Turkish is the common way to refer to women who are older than oneself’} 2_{Thanks to my Turkish respondents’ and Esme’s translations}

3_{That went into the makings of conversation through a combination of gestures, body language, few simple} words in English, Dutch and Turkish.

4_{Parties. As Turkish, Moroccan and Dutch members of the group all referred to these events as “feest” I} chose to leave it as it is.

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The majority of the group members are women over 50 years of age, and mostly retired or have never worked in the Netherlands. All of them are at a particular stage of life at which they no longer have dependent children to take care of. Majority of their children have already moved out and/or started their own families; some have grandchildren they occasionally babysit after day care. This means that for most members of the group it is only them and their husbands -most of whom are working during the day- living at home. This is a major change; not only in terms of shifting domestic responsibilities with age but also in terms of organization of time in everyday life.

Although most of the members are fairly fluent in Dutch1_{, nearly all of them stated they have problems}

with the written form of the language. This rough description seems to fit the marked “difference” which I have mentioned in the introduction; with the addition of low economic status and education. By all means, most members of the group are “first generation migrants” -a term which I will strategically avoid throughout this thesis.

Methods

Downsizing my fieldwork and adjusting the rhythm have also led to some changes and adjustments in my methods. Participant observation being my primary method; I have also conducted interviews and even had an unplanned and unexpected “focus-group discussion”2_{when one of my informants}

decided to invite four other members to our scheduled interview -which I turned into an opportunity.

Participant Observation

Participant observation provides the researcher with a unique opening that favors both rhythmanalysis and praxiography. Bueger (2014) brings it out as a methodological strategy for praxiography since it both entails observation and learning the intricacies of the practice by practicing it. For rhythmanalysis, the following excerpt from Lefebvre (2004) provides a perfect analogy to rhythmanalysis done via participant observation:

“In order to grasp and analyze rhythms, it is necessary to get outside them, but not completely. (…) However, to grasp a rhythm it is necessary to have been grasped by it; one must let oneself go, give oneself over, abandon oneself to its duration. (…) In order to grasp

1_{Judging by their statements as well as my observations with my limited skills in Dutch.}

2_{For the lack of a better term; I employ the term “focus group discussion” even though it was neither}

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this fleeting object, it is therefore necessary to situate oneself simultaneously inside and outside” (p.28)

Being simultaneously “inside and outside” also is a perfect metaphor my position as a researcher. My experience with the group proved that my initial reservations -about me being raised in Turkey, being younger, bearing the marks of a different “lifestyle” -starting with my name- as well as my class position were halfway true, but not in the ways that I have expected. I feel that things might have been slightly harder if I did not have Cemile Teyze as my gatekeeper who introduced me to the group as her fellow “hemşehri”1_{in the first place. But me being a young student from Turkey without}

immediate family in Amsterdam -which did not occur to me at the beginning as significant- has formed the relationships that I have with the members of the walking group in unexpected ways. From day one, I was more than welcome; not just as a researcher to their activities but also almost like a substitute daughter to be fed and taken care of. This was not the kind of “hierarchy” between the researcher and researched I aimed to refrain from prior to my fieldwork. To do justice to this relationship which was at first difficult for me to navigate around; I refer to the Turkish members of the group as “teyze” and “abla” throughout my discussion.

Interviews and an Unexpected “Focus Group Discussion”

I have conducted ten unstructured interviews; nine with Turkish members of the walking group in Turkish and one with the only Dutch member of the group in English that lasted from two hours to twenty minutes. The unexpected “focus group discussion” with four Turkish members of the group took place over the course of an afternoon coffee at one of my respondent’s houses. Since all of them have been members of the group from the very beginning; this rather unfocused discussion proved to be quite fruitful in terms of shifting my focus from weightloss towards “being active” as an overarching theme.

Language Matters

Keeping up with the spirit of material semiotics, I tried to convey as much as I can in my translations from Turkish to English. I have left specific words in Turkish, which are hard to capture in one word and provided translations in the footnotes. I also left the words in Turkish, Arabic and Dutch which

1_{Hemşehri (Turkish): Townsperson. Coming from the same town is an important relation for the group, as}

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belong to the shared vocabulary of the group regardless of their mothertongues. Unfortunately, dialects of Turkish within the group which were also the basis for many jokes were lost in translation. Not being able to speak Dutch was a challenge which limited my interaction with the non-Turkish members of the group with the exception of Esme -the only Dutch member. However, the Turkish members of the group were quite keen on translating bits and pieces of conversation for me. Especially during the first few weeks of my fieldwork, many of my informants expressed their concerns regarding how I manage to get around on an everyday basis without being able to speak Dutch- which again is a position I did not expect to find myself in prior to my fieldwork.

ETHICS

My research proposal which provided a basis for my fieldwork has received ethical clearance by the institutional board of the University of Amsterdam. Keeping in line with my proposal, my position as a researcher was out and open from the very beginning. The group has an open participation policy, anyone can show up and join their activities. But I sought permission of the group members through my gatekeeper prior to my arrival to make sure my presence would be welcome. I outlined what I will be doing there in coherent and clear manner on the first day, and explained it again to members who were not present on my first day. I also sought informed consent for audio recordings when I conducted interviews assuring confidentiality. I used pseudo names for all of my informants, and left out certain details which could disrupt their anonymity.

Here I think it is important to mention that this was not a smooth process; me being out and open as a researcher does not necessarily mean that everyone knows what my participation there entails. As my initial topic was weightloss, I often had to clarify that I was not there to give advice or help them lose weight. I was worried about this especially during the initial stages of my fieldwork; I had to really make sure that everyone understood. I think I might have overdone it slightly, because this eventually turned into a joke amongst the women; some of them started to tease me by asking my advice on weightloss towards the end. On a similar note, when I explained the pseudo names and anonymization process prior to conducting interviews, I have received some opposition. Especially the founding members saw my fieldwork and thesis as an opportunity to publicize their group and activities, they have even jokingly asked me to send the interviews to BBC. After long discussions about this issue, they have agreed to anonymization and pseudo names.

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PART 1:

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1.1 THE TALK

“You just missed the walkers, but don’t worry they will be back soon” Cemile Teyze informs me as we take the elevator to the second floor of the Buurthuis. Acting somehow like my gatekeeper, she asked permission from the women’s walking group prior to my arrival that morning to make sure my presence would be welcome at the Buurthuis. Lucky for me, they have agreed. So, I arrive at the Buurthuis in Nieuw-West knowing that today will be about introductions -not walking. I assume that Cemile Teyze stayed back to greet me, and expect to chat with her until the group gets back from their walk. When we get out of the elevator, I hear loud chatter and laughter issuing from one of the two rooms alongside a wide corridor. I instinctively walk towards the silent room only to hear Cemile Teyze yelling “Not there dear! The girls1_{are right here!”. We enter a small conference}

room in which the rectangular tables are pushed together to form a square, packed with women on three sides; sitting and chatting. One of the tables next to the kitchenette is saved aside for an open buffet brunch with around thirty small serving plates stacked right next to it. Everything looks untouched. Cemile Teyze greets them in Dutch, and introduces me to the group. A bit taken aback by the crowded room; I ask her if the walk is finished. “No”, she replies; “this is the breakfast bunch2_”.

This was the first of my many encounters with the “breakfast bunch”: regular members of the walking group who do not join the walking part, but are present for every other activity of the group. Although these two groups -the walkers and the breakfast bunch- are not mutually exclusive; the latter significantly outnumbered the former every Monday I was there. I have been informed by the women that this is always the case -which initially caused a significant sense of panic for me. Considering that initially I set out to do fieldwork on weightloss, I thought I was in the wrong place. I was perplexed by the “breakfast bunch”; what were these women doing there if they were not walking? How could they consider themselves as members of a walking group if they were not walking? I was even more confused when I met the “walkers” later on:

1_{Tr: “Kızlar” most of the women refer to the group as “the girls”}

2_{Tr: “Kahvaltıcılar” literally translates as “breakfasters”. I chose “breakfast bunch” as it makes more sense in} English.

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As I take my seat right next to Cemile Teyze, I notice a woman in her late fifties coming in pushing a table tray with wheels. “The coffeeman1_{is here ladies! Get your coffee before}

it’s cold!” she yells in Turkish -imitating a pedlar- and nearly half of the women -the ones sitting together on one side of the square- laugh. “Koffie koffie!” she yells to the other side of the table and gestures toward the tray table, and the women get up and form a line to get coffee. Cemile Teyze introduces me to her -Fikriye Teyze- as their “hemşehri”2

since both of them come from villages nearby my grandmother’s. She pours me some coffee and explains me apologetically that I have to wait until the walkers come back in for brunch.

While I tell her about my research and why I want to participate in their walks, the room fills up with whistles and applause. I turn my back towards the door and see a few women in casual clothes walking towards the room with their hands in the air. One of them bows down to the cheer, some women get up and walk towards her for hugs. After the excitement is over, everyone rushes to the open-buffet. I stay back since it is time for me to meet one of the “leaders” of the group -Latife Abla3_{. Latife Abla is a Turkish woman}

in her forties with a slightly plump figure and shoulder length dark hair, relatively younger than the rest of the group. Cemile Teyze introduces me to her as “the student who just came from Turkey”. While I’m explaining my research and my interest in weightloss she interrupts me: “Darling you came to the right place!” she says, “We all need to lose a few kilos for sure! Can you help with that?”. I tell her that I’m not there to give guidance but to participate in their walks and breakfast, gather data on their work out or diets. “Yes, yes, we do all of that” she says impatiently, points at the table filled with food and adds “But we eat too!”. Women nearby burst into laughter, as they are filling their plates. Fikriye interrupts us with a warning that there will be nothing left to eat if we don’t hurry up, and Latife should not let her “hemşehri” starve. We approach the table and pick up our small plates. I notice the writings on the plates donated by the municipality: “Ik kies

1_{Tr: “Kahveci geldi hanımlar”. “Kahveci” -person who sells coffee- is a genderless noun in Turkish, yet as} Fikriye Teyze was deliberately deepening her voice and imitating a pedlar, I chose to use “coffeeman”. This kind of reverse-gender roleplay is a common theme for jokes among the group.

2_{English: Townsperson. Coming from the same town is an important relation within the group, as well as} within the Turkish community in the Netherlands as far as my experience goes.

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gezond. Ik eet gezond1_{!” -quite the motivation. The table is filled with containers of all}

shapes and sizes, there are two kinds of potato salad, menemen2_{, fig jam, spread cheese,}

two different kinds of pastries and a large pile of sliced bread. I help myself to a plate with two spoonfuls of potato salad and three spoonfuls of menemen which fills half of my small plate. “Look at her plate!” Latife Abla nudges Fikriye Teyze, “She can teach us about weightloss alright!”. Upon this remark, Cemile Teyze insists that I try at least one of the pastries: “I made them myself, the poppy seed paste inside is from our hometown” she says. I need no further seduction; I haven’t had these pastries for many years so I go ahead and grab a big piece of pastry and put it on my motivational plate. “See, we derailed her already” Latife Abla says to Fikriye Teyze, “No, not yet. I still don’t see any bread on that plate!” she answers.

Okay, I thought. Weightloss might not be what is going on here. But there is still physical activity involved, at least some of the women are walking -even though it is once a week. Here is where things got a bit complicated, what to do with the breakfast bunch and shifting members in between? What are the criteria for inclusion/exclusion? How many walks a woman has to participate in to be considered as a physically active participant of the group during the short time I spend there? So, during a focus group discussion, I brought the topic up.

Fikriye – I am the super walker dear. I walk everywhere, all the time. All of them are bus-riders, I am the only real walker amongst them. That is the truth.

Ulviye – Yes, we all use buses or trams. I go everywhere with bus, I never walk. She walks everywhere all the time.

Fikriye – I always walk everywhere. That is the reality. Evrim – So you brisk walk every day?

Fikriye –Yes! I walk every day, and with rhythm too! I am the most physically active in this bunch. [Others nod approvingly] See, exactly as I told you. Don’t you mind

1_{English: “I choose healthy. I eat healthy!”}

2_{Menemen: A Turkish dish with stir fried onions, peppers, tomatoes and eggs considered as one of the} healthy elements of the breakfast menu.

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them telling you I don’t go for walks with them! [laughs] I also sometimes go for walks with my neighbors, but that is just after dinner. For activity, you know. Evrim –For burning calories after dinner?

Fikriye –No, no. I don’t eat much at dinner. You know, I live alone. What am I going to do after dinner? Sit on the couch and watch tv by myself? Well, sometimes, yes if I’m really tired. But not all the time. And at those times I call the girls and we go for a walk, we talk and walk and when I get back home, what do you know, it is bedtime already!

Fikriye Teyze (59) almost never goes for a walk with the group. Yet, she is the super-walker. She was a regular member of the breakfast-bunch during my time there. This was her answer in response to which physical activities she was involved in. Here, I would like to make a distinction between “walking” and “going for a walk”. This distinction is a little bit stronger in Turkish than how it sounds in English -at least to my non-native ears. In Turkish, while going for a walk (yürüyüş yapmak)1_has

connotations with leisure and/or purposeful physical activity, walking (yürümek) is the verb for walking as a mean of transportation. Yet, Fikriye Teyze converts that distinction. Her being physically active does not depend on “going for a walk”; it depends on her walking everywhere. Walking as a mean of transportation is Fikriye Teyze being physically active on a daily basis done through and alongside shopping for groceries, visiting friends, picking up her granddaughter from school. Whereas going for a walk with neighbors or joining the breakfast sessions with the walking group is “activity” in some other ways.

Ulviye Abla, for example, who says “she never walks”; joins the walkers frequently. She says she does not enjoy walking. She had a brain surgery two years ago for her epilepsy -which was quite limiting her everyday life as there was always a risk of seizures. Now she is doing better, but she still needs to be careful. When I asked her about what changes “walking” when she goes for a walk with the group, this was her answer:

1_{A literal translation of “Yürüyüş yapmak” would be “doing/making a walk”. There is another verb in Turkish} that is closer to “going for a walk” in meaning: “yürüyüşe çıkmak” -which is not used as much by the walking group when referring to their walks. Although I rather like the sound of “doing/making a walk” -for the lack of a better term in English- I chose to use “going for a walk”. “Yürüyüşe çıkmak” also has connotations regarding “outing”, which will be relevant further down the road.

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“You don’t talk in your head, when you walk together. If you walk by yourself, you talk by yourself in your head. You think about how tired you are, you realize how tired you are. You don’t notice it when you are walking and joking with friends. You never notice the time passing by…” Ulviye (52)

Ulviye does not like walking, but she goes for a walk with friends because there is talking and joking. She could have just as well talked and joked with the breakfast bunch, but apparently there is something about walking together that sitting together does not have which makes Ulviye join the walkers. There seems to be no easy way out of my problem of “boundaries”- apparently women who do not join the walks can still be physically active. And women who join the walks might not even like it or do it for being physically active anyway. Consider Hatice Teyze (65) for example who only joined the walkers twice during the two months I have spent with the group. She was always present for the breakfasts and the trips. Whenever I asked her if she was going for a walk with us that day, she always mentioned her aching knees.

“No dear, I’m not walking today. I already walked from home you see; my knees are saying this is enough.” (Hatice Teyze, 65) So, the walk from her home to the Buurthuis was enough physical activity already. Imagine my surprise when I saw her dancing almost non-stop for three hours during one of the feests we had before Ramadan. Although she said she could never resist the temptation of the song “Gaydırı gubbak Cemilem”1_{which is from her region, I saw her dancing to all kinds of tunes all night. This held true}

for all of the breakfast bunch, everyone who was always too tired or too sick to go for a walk danced for hours during these feests. The reason I’m bringing this up is not to question Hatice Teyze’s -or anyone else’s for that matter- aching knees or tiredness. I simply want to point that there are differences between walking together and dancing together; while aching knees get in the way of the first one, there is something about the latter that is so irresistible which renders the aching knees irrelevant -at least for the moment. Hatice Teyze blames the song, I “blame” something else.

Although I was still perplexed by the “breakfast bunch” and how to deal with them, I could leave them aside momentarily. The more pressing problem as I saw at the beginning was not just the sheer

1_{Gaydırı gubbak Cemilem: A folk song from Aegean Region of Turkey. “Cemile” is a common women’s} name from the area. The title of the song means “My Promiscuous Cemile”, a joyful young girl who roams the mountains freely to whom the singer wants to get married immediately.

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number of women walking or not walking. The “problem” was that “walking” as it is done by the walking members of this “walking group” did not really fit into this image of the brisk walking, healthily aging older women with headbands from 80’s that I saw on the brochures for walking interventions or active aging campaigns. Now, in addition to the boundary problem I have touched upon -in terms of how to deal with the breakfast bunch- I seem to have another problem. What is physical activity? Is it walking everywhere or going for a walk or both? Do dancing or walking to the Buurthuis or even going for a walk together once a week count as physical activity?

Well, not according to public health literature. Health Council of the Netherlands puts “the current Dutch standard for healthy levels of exercise” at minimum thirty minutes of moderate exercise “preferably every day but on no less than five days per week”. The “standard” increases to one hour every day for preventing weight gain (Kemper et al., 2004). Romeike, Abidi, Lechner, Vries, & Oenema (2016) in their focus group study on similarities and differences between lower educated Dutch, Moroccan and Turkish adults regarding beliefs related to diet and physical activity state that their Turkish and Moroccan participants reflect a similar view on sufficient levels of physical activity: varying between twenty minutes to two hours of moderate activity every day. The perceived barriers to achieve that -in the same study- are numerous. But for women mainly domestic division of labor therefore lack of time, good mood or energy alongside with some “gender issues” -such as men and women not being allowed to exercise at the same location- are listed. This seems to be quite the trend for writing about migrant or minority women and physical activity; beliefs and perceived barriers appear in the title of quite the number of studies. Chang et al. (2018) for example argue that “lack of willpower” and “lack of energy” are the primary perceived barriers to physical activity among low income Latina women. In a similar vein, Caperchione, Kolt, & Mummery (2009) conduct a review for the literature on “Culturally and Linguistically Diverse Groups to Western Society” and what stops them from being physically active; their list is much longer and includes cultural beliefs, environmental and socioeconomic relations as well as lack of support from the communities.

Most of these studies seem to have a two-step approach to physical activity amongst minority or migrant women; first the “knowledge” regarding physical activity is measured, then the “perceived barriers” are retrieved from apologetic accounts in focus group discussions, interviews, ethnographies or surveys. There are few assumptions made here; first of all, physical activity does not seem to come “naturally” -the “target groups” have to be nudged in the right direction. They have to know or learn the benefits of physical activity -whether it is weightloss or other health related reasons. After all, why

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would anyone spend time on exercise and get tired if they did not know that it is good for them? So, there is some intentionality, some ultimate goal in mind when engaging with physical activity. Making sure that this goal is shared through the first step, the following question is: if they know that it is good for them, why don’t they exercise? Here come the apologetic accounts of aching knees, time consuming domestic chores and horrible husbands. Following Mol’s (2013) invitation to play with the term “ontonorms” loosely; I would argue that bodies who do not want to walk and minds who know walking is good for them are enacted in a tension here. Physical activity is both a means to an ideal collectively desired end and a tiresome and time-consuming activity that one needs to make adjustments for on a daily basis. The norm is the responsible citizen who purposefully removes the barriers to her own physical activity -mind over body -and in the case of the migrant women- overcomes gendered and cultural restraints and even “converge towards the host population” (Hosper, Nierkens, Nicolaou, & Stronks, 2007).

If almost none of the women in the walking group can hold up to the standards of physical activity -staying within this logic- the next step for me would be to check if they agree with the prescribed levels of physical activity and ask the question “why” they can’t live up to it. Let’s assume that I did, what would my case look like then? Well, I never directly asked anyone if they agreed with the Dutch standard in particular; but “of course” they did. At least some of the women stated they would have “walked together” and have feests every day if they could; especially when I asked after the Ramadan break. So far, so good. And in terms of “why” -as the second step follows- I would end up with a long list; starting with aching knees, time constraints, demanding husbands and grandchildren one needs to care for. But this is “the talk”. There is no place within “the talk” for knees aching while walking but not dancing -other than Hatice Teyze being lazy, no explanation for eating bunch of pastries on a plate that nudges one towards making healthy choices -other than “lack of will” or falling prey to bodily desires. So, if I would have stuck to “the talk” all I would have is excuses and apologies -which I still partly do. Yet, this picture does not resemble the vibrant and energetic group of women with whom I have gone for walks, shared breakfasts, danced together, took trips all over Amsterdam. There seems to be a clear discrepancy between what I chose to refer as “the talk” and “the walk” and not just in the sense that they don’t match each other1_{. Rather, the very assumptions that goes into} 1_{Here I am not using the terms “talk” and “walk” in the sense of “speech” or actual physical activity of} walking. “Talk” here is the ideas/beliefs/attitudes paradigm regarding health and physical activity in the narrative form, whereas “walk” refers to multiple practices done by the walking group including but not limited to- walking together.

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the making of “the talk” -including the way I frame my questions as a researcher- renders the complexity of “the walk” irrelevant, as there is not enough walking done to be relevant anyway. This has led me into thinking, what would happen if I left the problems of boundary and prescribed levels all together? Or in other words, what would happen if I left “the talk” aside and focused on “the walk”?

Focusing on “the walk” reads nice and easy, but in terms of practicalities of actually doing that, it needs more explanation. Mol (2002) introduces “praxiography” as a particular method of telling “stories

about practices”. In body multiple she looks at practices in which disease and bodies are enacted without

bracketing the practicalities through which they emerge. Instead of chasing causal explanations and meanings through “why’s”, she chases ontologies through “how’s” and foregrounds the practices within which multiple realities are enacted as well as sustained. Following her lead, Bueger (2014) employs praxiography as “practice of doing practice theory driven research” and outlines strategies which can provide access to critical moments that can help with connecting “observation” and “interpretation” of practices as well as overcoming the problem of scales; and dealing with both repetitive and creative sides of practice. His first research strategy is looking at “sites” as where the structures and orders are made through practices. Second one is looking at moments of “crisis and controversies” as those moments within which implicit aspects of practices become explicit. And lastly, he brings out “following objects” as a strategy since the uses, transformations and travel of objects reveal much about the practices they take part in. None of these strategies he outlines to cope with the practicalities of praxiography are mutually exclusive or absolute; the job assigned to the praxiographer is rather flexible and creative. Strategies and methods of doing praxiography should be tailored to the practices at hand.

Inspired by these strategies of “looking down”; I focused on “the walk” through slight modifications of “sites” -as both social and material spaces formed through practices that take place within them-; “moments of crisis” -as openings to look into strategies and justifications that enable particular practices and participation. I also “follow”; but not “objects” in their trajectory within practices but “linguistic constructs” as in jokes and stories which help me to foreground ways of relating. So instead of the questions “why” or “why not”- I will be focusing on the question “how” for the rest of this chapter as an attempt to unravel how physical activities as done by these women relate to a different kind of “being active”. But in order to do so, first we might need to take a brief detour to how is “doing a walk together” done by the walking group.

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1.2 THE WALK

I arrive at the second floor of the Buurthuis just on time, 9:15. There are 9 women already sitting and chatting around the table- this is a good day for the walkers. As usual, everyone is in their daily clothes, some of them with thin coats down to their feet. I notice that most of them are Moroccan, so I say “Goede morgen!” in my broken Dutch and grab a chair. As Esme enters the room, there is the usual excitement and cheers. The chatter lasts a while longer than usual, after all this is the first meeting after the six-week break for Ramadan. Esme asks them one by one whether they are joining the walk, and all but one says yes. The one who is not walking is too tired today, Esme tells me. We leave our bags in the room and make our way out. While Esme and I get on the elevator, rest of the women take the stairs. As we are getting out of the elevator, we see Fikriye Teyze and few other women from the group entering the building. Esme greets them with hugs and kisses, I notice all of them have plastic containers filled with food in their hands. Fikriye holds a bag filled with tomatoes and cucumbers while she gives Esme the exciting news about being a grandmother for the third time. Meanwhile, I ask Ulviye Abla if she is going to walk, she shakes her head no; it is too hot outside for her to walk, and she is already tired from her walk to the Buurthuis. Fikriye Teyze -as usual- also prefers to go upstairs and prepare the breakfast, so we get out of the building. The walkers are waiting for us outside, speaking amongst themselves. Esme gestures towards the pavement, and yells “Yallah”1_{. They all laugh at this instruction.}

The sun is really bright outside and the stalls in the market across the street are just being set-up. Esme strategically avoids walking through the market as usual -we always waste time if we pass through there she says- and takes the little path behind the supermarket instead. When we reach at a cross-road, one of the Moroccan women -Naima- asks her which direction should we take. Esme replies her in Dutch, so simple that I too can understand; “Whichever way you want” she says, “you are the boss today”. Naima giggles and points towards the road that goes between the buildings. This is not the usual way; we mostly take the other path towards the woods. There is a small opening right at the edge of the woods, disguised by trees yet wide enough for us to make an exercise circle

1_{Arabic: Literally “Oh god” but in everyday language it is used for “Let’s go” or “Come on!”. It is also used} for “let’s go” in Turkish sometimes yet in a rude way.

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before we set out for the walk. By taking this path, we will arrive the opening at the end of our walk -which probably means no exercise today. So, we slowly walk through the buildings. I am in a deep conversation with Esme about the changes in this neighborhood which she grew up in. She tells me that these buildings were not there when she was growing up here, all of them are recently build and belong to richer Turkish people. She also shows me the gates in between the buildings, “You could never see something like this in Amsterdam before” she says, pointing at the big houses with gates. “You could fit a family in a small apartment before, now people want more, bigger houses, bigger rooms, kitchens and all”. The boss for the day is upfront with Salima, rest of the women are slowly coming behind us. Occasionally Esme turns back and yells “Yallah! Yallah!”, from time to time Salima shouts the same instruction to us. We slowly reach the end of the building blocks, where we make a right from a great big football field. She tells me she used to play there as a kid, and there were no buildings in sight but trees and great meadows. None of the women walking with us today speak English, so I feel like someone should translate. “They know these stories already” she tells me, “I tell them about this all the time”.

We make a right and start walking next to a nice lake filled with gooses and gooselings. “The papa walks at the front, you see” she tells me, “much like the men in my women’s family”. She stops and points the gooses to the women as well -and repeats the joke in Dutch- and they all laugh. We walk past a patch of meadow filled with poppies, she says they are her favorite and points it to the women as well. We see some sculpturesque concrete structures next to the lake. She points at them and asks the women, “What are those?”. The women apparently don’t know. She says “But don’t you live here?”. They discuss it amongst themselves and tell her that those might be tables and benches. She is not satisfied with the answer, she further probes the question, “Why are they shaped that way?”. One of the women tells her that first two is for sitting and the last one is for lying. We stop for a lot of things, it is mostly Esme who does the point-and-ask, but sometimes it comes from the women. The last point-and-ask -about some circus tents further in the field- stops us for nearly ten minutes, after which Salima says “Yallah Yallah!” a bit impatiently, and we hit the small path towards the forest. I take a look back, and can still see the ones on the back walking slowly and pointing towards the tents and talking.

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We slowly leave the forest trail and pass the exercise opening. No one pauses as we walk past by it, since we took the other route today there will be no exercise. The boss for the day checks with Esme if she is on the right track, and she gives her thumbs up. Cemile Teyze and Hatice Teyze are left a bit behind talking amongst themselves, I can hear Cemile Teyze telling her all about how she was gardening with her five-year-old granddaughter. But I also notice Hatice Teyze is limping a bit, her knee must have been acting up. So slowly but surely, we make it to the marketplace again. I check my phone for the step-counter, it has been slightly over an hour and we have walked 5000 steps, nearly 4 kilometers.

The vignette above more or less outlines a typical walking session with the walkers. The walkers of the walking group get together at 9:15 every Monday at the Buurthuis, and go for a walk in the nearby parks and forest for around an hour. It is not a “brisk walk” per say, but the rhythm is rather formed by a multiplicity of interacting elements; the flow of the conversations, the surrounding space and walking bodies with possibly hurting knees. These three elements that make up the rhythm of the walk for the walking group, find their reflection in the literature as well. Gatrell (2013) outlines the active body, the social body and the walking context as three elements of relations that goes into the making of therapeutic mobilities. He positions therapeutic mobilities alongside therapeutic landscapes as a more dynamic contributor of wellbeing, in contrast to the space-bound and static accounts of the landscapes. The overall argument is that mobilities -or in his case too, walking- contributes to the health and fitness of the active body, allows social interactions and offers a chance to engage with the space; which all together contribute to the well-being. Doughty (2013) -in a similar fashion- argues for a relational, embodied and mobile understanding of therapeutic landscapes; produced by a mobile self engaging with others with a similar orientation towards well-being through shared therapeutic practices. From the outlook, both frameworks seem to fit to the vignette above. However, there is a difference. Both stories start with an active body – or mobile self- that has taken up the task of walking and found others with similar goals to walk through and relate to -or create- therapeutic landscapes. The “social body” or “others” are just the perks of walking together; they contribute to the well-being of the active bodies or mobile selves. So, the relationality or sociality of the therapeutic landscapes -or mobilities- follows the walking individual. For my case, I would argue it is the other way around. Going back to the distinction I made earlier between “walking” and “going for a walk”, in case of the walking group, “going for a walk” is never done alone. “Going for a walk” here is a practice that does

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not just create or enable certain forms of sociality; on the contrary- it is first and foremost a practice of sociality, of being together. I think this is the right place for a foundation story. Following excerpt is Latife’s recollection of how the walking group started. Most of the original members of the group have met at the primary school their children were going to nearly fifteen years ago.

“You know, it’s not like in Turkey here. You have to walk your children to school. No school buses or things like that. That is how we met, because we were all taking our children to school. We have a Dutch friend, Esme -you know, Esma1_{[laughs]. She worked}

there; she was teaching Dutch to mothers. I didn’t attend her class because I already knew Dutch, but I met her there. She in a way brought us together, that is how we met… We started to do activities together, we walked together, they even gave us a room there […] So after our kids graduated from school, we felt left out! [laughs] So we said ‘what do we do now?’. We wanted to see each other! Esme just retired at that time too, you know. So, we said let’s arrange a walking group at the Buurthuis. So, we can walk and we can get together. You know, at least we could come together in some way. We are here because we wanted to be active you know.”

(Latife, 47) When I heard the keyword “being active”, I probed further for whether she meant being physically active:

“Not really but yes, that too. For at least we would have something to do. We thought at least we wouldn’t be sluggish. That was our purpose. We thought we could walk as a social activity; we would remain fit. For not being sluggish, to have a social activity for coming together again. At least we could walk for an hour or an hour and a half. Maybe then have some coffee together. That was the idea.”

(Latife, 47)

So, walking together as a practice emerged through the sociality in this case. It might not be the way; but it is at least some way to come together. This seem to apply not only to the foundation, but also the expansion of the group. Most of the members who joined after the Buurthuis era joined the group through their friends’ invitation; usually after attending a feest held by the group for special days. Prior

to my fieldwork, they have previously held feests for 8th_{of March, winter break for school, for New}

1_{Esma is a Turkish name phonetically similar to Esme. Sometimes the Turkish members of the group refer} to her as Esma. I tried to maintain the phonetic relation when anonymizing her name.

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Year’s Eve and so on. During my time there, they organized a feest at the café of the Buurthuis before taking a six-week break for Ramadan. Around fifty women attended this feest -more than I have ever seen on any Monday- most of whom I have not met before.

Nazmiye (59) is one of them. When we met during the feest, she first spoke to me in Dutch, and when she noticed I did not understand it she switched to English. A little taken aback by this -none of the other women from the group except Esme spoke English- I asked her where she was from. We switched to Turkish after we realized that it is both of our mother tongue. She told me if I didn’t speak English, she would have tried German and even a little bit of French, she spoke five languages. She is a neighbor of Fikriye, so she knew about the group for many years. When I asked her if she was a past member of the group, she shakes her head no. Then she tells me, her head has not been in the right place since she lost her father nine years ago. After that, she did not want to do anything. Even though Fikriye insisted her to come and join, she rejected for many years. This feest was her most crowded “outing” since her father passed.

After our brief chat during the feest, I was surprised to see her at the Buurthuis with her crutches stacked next to her seat on our first day back from Ramadan break. She was having coffee and waiting for the walkers to come back to have breakfast with the rest of the breakfast bunch. I asked her what changed her mind, how did she decide to join to group after rejecting it for so long.

“I told you about my father, right? He was a great man, center of my life. He was the one who always pushed me to learn things, that is how I speak 5 languages. I taught myself, I have this God-given gift for language. He wanted me to be educated, but I was young and I wanted to get married, start a family. So, after he passed, my head was not right. I thought I failed him. You see me now, but you should have seen me back then. I’m getting better now. I don’t know, it was nice that day with the feest, seeing all these women. Dancing and talking, you know. It was fun, yes. So, I said why not? Maybe I will even walk, once I get rid of these crutches.”

Nazmiye was not looking for a way to be physically active, especially not while she still had her crutches. She saw something that she liked at the feest and decided to be a part of it. For Gülizar (42) -a past member of the group whom I also met during the feest- the feest was a reminder and an invitation to reintroduce herself to the group. She stopped coming on Mondays nearly two years ago, for reasons she did not entirely disclose to me. She said she couldn’t wake up early enough to make it. Since the feest started at 5 pm, she could not reject Ulviye’s invitation. But on the second Monday

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after Ramadan, she was there, right on time for the walk. As she was complaining about her figure during the feest, I jokingly asked her if she decided to get ready for the summer.

“Oh no, not really. You see, if I was really bothered by my weight, I would do something about it. I just realized that I missed my friends. Today was a good day, I feel good. If I couldn’t wake up for the walk… Well there is still breakfast [laughs]”

So, she did manage to wake up that morning and join us for the walk. She seemed to be happy about it too. Until the summer break she made it there every Monday; sometimes on time for a walk, sometimes just to join the breakfast bunch. For Gülizar, going for a walk is not doing something about her weight or physical fitness; it is doing something about missing her friends. If she can’t make it to the walk, having breakfast is still good enough. So, walking follows the talking women. But still, going for a walk requires being able to walk. Meeting the advised standards or not, there are still bodies who are doing the walking. Remember Hatice Teyze with her aching knees in the vignette. Going for a walk in this case -regardless of why or how much it is done- is still being physically active.

This became even more clear to me on one of the walks during which Salima (52) was the boss for the day:

After we did our exercises in the forest clearing, Esme had to take Maudy (65) -one of the two Surinamese participants of the group- back to the Buurthuis. Maudy came in with sandals that day, and her feet were aching after our short walk to the clearing. So, Salima was left in charge of the walk that day. This particular walk proved to be quite interesting for me; not only because of the language barrier -no Turkish women were walking that day- but also it was the most physically tiring walk I have participated in during my fieldwork. Salima -whom the reader might remember from the “typical walk” vignette as the impatient walker- turned out to be a strict boss after all. “The walk” that day was filled with short sprints followed by brisk walks; the switch between the two determined by Salima through particular landmarks -such as writings on pavement, a lonely tree, an electric lamp or anything else Salima saw as fit. Or so I thought. Almost everyone followed her lead in this sprint-brisk walk routine, or at least tried. She made an effort to include everyone at every single switch to sprints, with her occasional running backwards and yelling “Yallah!”. I noticed when she was running backwards, the women would switch

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to a jogging rhythm too; but from time to time when she turned her back some of them just switched back to casual walking, maybe a little bit brisker than on a typical day. I saw a lot of panting and complaining -one woman pointed at her and made a gesture suggesting that she is being crazy which made everyone including Salima laughed- but no one stopped. Physically not being used to this routine led to a lot of pauses as well, this time not for sessions of point and ask -but me and Salima waiting for the rest of the group to catch-up with us sometimes by a little race amongst themselves. During one of those instances, Salima described me with a combination of few Dutch words I could understand, few words in English she spoke and gestures how she was trying to escalate the heart beat through sprints and maintain it at a certain level with brisk walks. Or in the words of the fitness cult; HIIT1_{. She also told me while she is always trying to get the rest}

of the women sprint and brisk walk, they “always talk talk talk”.

She never did this in any other walk that I joined, although I could see that she did not have much patience for long sessions of “point and ask”. Yet she still waited for others to catch up, even when her heart rate was going under the level at which she wanted to keep it. Later on that day-with a little help of Dutch to English translation- I’ve learned that she is quite the “fitness nut”. It is more or less like this whenever she is “the boss for the day”. She does this sprint and brisk walking routine regularly at the same park by herself, she even runs ten kilometers from time to time. The markings on the pavement, the tree and the lamppost are how she knows it is time to switch between running and walking to maintain her heartrate. But on a typical walking session, she goes along with the rest of the group maybe with an occasional impatient “Yallah”.

Even though walking bodies might fall short on Salima’s brisk walking-sprinting routine, they never fail to come through when it comes to dancing. And not just Hatice Teyze and her temporarily not-aching knees; some upbeat music and a piece of cloth covering the windows is enough to unite the walkers and the breakfast bunch on the dance floor. But this does not happen in a moment, it is a process.

1_{High Intensity Interval Training is an exercise strategy which consists of increasing the heart rate to high} levels through intense exercise followed by short recovery periods to maintain the heart rate at certain levels. It is shorter than regular cardio routines and the increase-maintain routine is believed to be more effective on cardiovascular fitness and fat-burning than longer cardio routines.

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At the beginning of the feest, we all sit and eat the potlach dinner which is quite rich today since everyone have brought something from home. Despite the “no dessert” rule, I count at least eight different kinds of sweets; from cakes to baklavas. There is some music at the background, but it is not time to dance until the windows are covered with pieces of clothes and bellies are full. “A hungry bear does not dance”1_{Cemile Teyze tells me.}

Then Latife Abla turns on a song from Middle Anatolian region on YouTube and invites everyone to the dance floor. Few women that she asks directly say “Maybe later”. There are only five women dancing to this song; Latife Abla, Fikriye Teyze, Salima, Habiba and of course- Esme. Even though Esme, Salima and Habiba don’t know the song, they go along with their own moves. Few other women join them. Latife Abla runs to the laptop right before the end of each song to put up another one, and I can tell that she has a strategy: she is bringing up songs from different regions of Turkey -and a few Moroccan songs- to recruit the new dancers. Both Cemile Teyze and Hatice Teyze can’t resist sitting while Gaydırı gubbak Cemilem is playing, so they get up to join the dancers as well. From time to time they form circles with one woman dancing in the middle and others clapping- the one in the middle changes places with one of the clappers in a minute or two into her solo performance. After there is almost no one left sitting, Latife Abla turns on Mezdeke2_,

now is the right time for belly dancing. When we reach towards the end of the evening, Latife Abla switches to a fifteen-minute long medley of halay3_{songs -which accelerates}

and reaches its peak at the ending segment. We clap our hands and sit down to catch our breath, meanwhile Latife Abla switches to a wind-down slow tune.

What are the differences between these situations of walking/dancing together? Well, to begin with the obvious: rhythm. Inspired by Lefebvre’s Rhythmanalysis (2004), Vergunst (2010) analyses production of a street in Scotland as a dynamic formation of the embodied rhythms of the walkers through relations between materialities and socialities. There is a temporal aspect to this space-making -following Lefebvre- both in the sense of walking and walking-with; as it brings together the sense of

1_{Tr: “Aç ayı oynamaz” is an idiom in Turkish which means the metaphorical bear (that originates from the} actual dancing bears which was a popular form of entertainment in Turkey quite some time ago) needs to be fed -or get paid- first to perform.

2_{An extremely popular trio of belly dancers from Turkey, who mostly dance to Arabic or Egyptian}

influenced songs. They have quite a few albums composed of compilations of the songs they have danced to. 3_{Halay is a folk dance popular in all regions of Turkey. Although there are regional variations in steps and} music, it is characterized by holding hands -or joining little fingers- together and going in circles side by side.

Practicing activity : rhythmanalysis of a Turkish women's walking group in Amsterdam