Dynamics of Turkish Runs

Author: Deniz Zeyrek
Source: Asian Folklore Studies, Vol. 52, No. 1 (1993), pp. 161-175
By: Asian Folklore Studies, Nanzan University, Japan

Runs in Folktales and the Dynamics of Turkish Runs: A Case Study

Runs are inherent to Turkish folktales, as they are to folktales of certain other cultures. They are traditionally accepted forms, and useful compositional devices that function as bridges between the world of the tale and the world of everyday reality.This study attempts to demonstrate the dynamics of runs through an examination of the stylistic techniques that narrators employ, showing in particular how surface morphology and syntax help narrators to encode the traditional function and the meaning of runs. It argues that there are also extralinguistic factors contributing to the dynamics of runs, namely the common cultural background of the narrator and the audience, and suggests that runs act as cognitive signals for the audience to activate its previously acquired knowledge of the folktale world. The analysis tries to show that runs are not used merely for their compositional utility and do not restrict the narrator, but are effective means by which the narrator can manipulate the audience's outlook on the tale.

The word RUN is an alternative term used for the formulaic phrases in Homeric poetry. According to PARRY(1930), a run is "a group of words which is regularly employed under the same metrical conditions to express a given essential idea" (in LORD, 1974, 30). Parry was attempting with this definition to clarify what were previously referred to as "repetitions," "stock epithets," "epic cliches," and "stereotyped phrases" in Homeric literature, but he was severely criticized (e.g., by CALHOUN1935) for arguing that the primary reason formulas were used was metrical convenience rather than aesthetic concern. Later, Homeric scholars like LORD (1974) and KIRK (1965) demonstrated that formulas are indeed essential to the oral poet's treasury.
Their work showed that formulas operate within an extremely tight and logical system and that they are invaluable for enabling the oral poet to express an essential idea in the most economical way. Parry and his followers are still being attacked today (see VIVANTE 1975), the debate of metrical convenience (or mechanism) vs. aesthetics still continues, and there does not seem to be a definition of "formula" that scholars can agree upon. What does seem settled is that formulas appear with sufficient regularity in Homeric poetry and other oral traditional epics to be accepted as traditional structures, and that they are not necessarily devices that chain the poet to his compositional idiom(FOLEY1991, 16-17).
An examination of the various forms of oral narratives, such as myths, legends, riddles, and especially folktales, suggests that formulas are not confined to oral traditional epic but are a characteristic feature of almost all types of oral narrative. The work of DILLON (1971) and BAIN (1969) shows, for example, that such expressions are inherent to the composition of Irish and Romanian folktales, and the writings of Turkish folklorists show that runs are indispensable to that genre as well (e.g., BORATAV1969, YUCEL1982). Folktale runs do not appear on the level of meter and colon, as in the Homeric formulas, but on the level of morphology and syntax. These traditional structures display enough regularity of function and form, however, to indicate that they are similar to Homeric formulas. And, as FOLEYpoints out (1991, 6), if they are traditional in form and function they should be traditional in their mode of generating meaning as well. Folktale runs, like formulas in Homeric poetry, should thus lean heavily on the traditional context in conveying meaning.
This necessarily raises the mechanism vs. aesthetics debate, which still remains a problem in the interpretation of the phraseology of oral traditional epic, and which demands answers to the following questions: Are runs chosen merely for their compositional convenience? Is the narrator completely confined to them in his composition, or can he manipulate such traditional material for aesthetic purposes? What is the impact of such structures on the audience? Since the answers to these questions might help reveal the dynamics of runs, an attempt will be made in this paper to address such questions within the framework of Turkish folktale runs. Various examples of runs in Turkish folktales will be considered, and it will be demonstrated that runs are not used merely for their compositional utility, but are effective devices by which the skillful narrator manipulates the expectations of the audience to convey certain ideas and to uphold interest in the tale.


Discourse Organization
A cursory analysis of folktale runs shows that they are thematically separate from the folktale within which they occur. It appears that some runs tell a rather odd story of their own (see runs 4, 7, and 8 in this article), while others are shorter forms consisting of one or two humorous sentences (see 5, 6, 10, 11). Secondly, we observe that runs fulfill the same compositional function in all folktales: they traditionally start or end the tale, signal topic shifts, and mark episode boundaries within the tale, thus organizing the folktale discourse.
We should note in passing that folktale runs and Homeric runs are somewhat similar in this respect. It is pointed out in both Kirk and Lord that name epithets like "goodly Odysseus," "gleaming-helmeted Hector," "many counseled Odysseus," etc. in the Odyssey are used at the beginning of many verses. Similarly, formulas like "so said he," "answered him as follows," and "him did answer thereafter" are common at line beginnings. KIRK (1965, 6) mentions that when the poet of the Odyssey wished to express the idea that "he desired victory," he always used "victory wished he" at the line end.
The examples that follow are presented to show how folktale runs function as discourse organizers. Run 1 is the translation of an Irish tale-opening run, while runs 2 and 3 are translations of Romanian tale-opening and tale-closing runs, respectively. Runs 4, 5, and 6 present Turkish examples along with their translations; the first is a tale-opening run, and the others are tale-closing runs.1
These and other runs are not presented in the context of the folktale they appear in since they are thematically unrelated to the folktale, and for this reason can be analyzed separately.

1) There was a long time ago, it's long ago it was. If I'd been there then, I wouldn't be here now. I'd have a new story or an old story or I'd be a gray-haired old storyteller (DILLON1971, 19).

2) Once upon a time, a long long time ago, when fleas were shod with ninety and nine pieces of iron, and flew up into the blue sky to fetch us down fairy-tales, there lived an Emperor who had three daughters (BAIN1969, 222).

3) And now I'll mount my horse again and say an "Our Father" before I go (BAIN1969, 243).

4) Ben ben iken, deve tellal, kopek hamal iken, leylek muhtar, kedi berber iken, kurbaga tuccar, yilan urgan, hirka yorgan iken, babam besh yashinda, ben onbeshimde iken, ben babamin beshigini tingir mingir sallar iken, kechiler koyunlari kirpar, sivrisinek saz chalarken, ben su icher, develer elekten gecher iken, tilki hakl ile haksizi secher, ben de o sirada arpa bicher iken, eshek mihmandar tavshan ile kaz hukumdariken bir varmsh bir yokmush (Kunos 1987, 277). (When I was me, and the camel a town crier, and the dog a porter, and the stork a mukhtar,2 and the cat a barber, and the frog a merchant, and the snake a hawser, and the cardigan a duvet, and my father in his fifth year, I in my fifteenth, softly rocking his cradle, and when the goats sheared the sheep, and the mosquito played the lute, and I drank water, and the camels passed through the sieve, and the
fox distinguished just from unjust, and while I at that time reaped barley, and the donkey was a guide, and the rabbit and the goose were a ruler, once here once nowhere.)

5) Onlar ermish muradina, biz de chikalim kerevetine(BORATAV1969, 155). (They have reached their desire, I heard, may we go up to its wooden bed.)

6) Gokten uch elma dushmush. Biri bana, biri masal anlatana, biri de Sidika Hanima. (chopu, kabuklari da dinleyenlere (BORATAV1969,175). (Three apples fell from the sky, I heard. Let one be for me, one for the storyteller, and one for Sidika Hanim. 3 Let the stalk and the peel be for the listeners.)

The discourse-organizing function of runs in folktales is a feature learnt and practiced by narrators through the generations. An audience of the same culture also knows this function of runs, having learnt it through innumerable storytelling activities since childhood. Both parties are also familiar with the kind of world that folktales are associated with. Both know, for instance, that the folktale world is an illusory world outside the temporal and spatial parameters of the real world, and that it has a human hero-like keloglan (the bold boy), the son/daughter of the Beg, or the Agha-who often fights with non-human enemies to win riches and love. Furthermore, both parties expect justice to prevail between rich and poor, powerful and non-powerful. Runs allow the narrator to activate the audience's expectations and previously acquired knowledge of this sort. In this sense, they comprise "a set of cognitive categories" for the audience (FOLEY 1991, 50).
The cognitive reality of runs is also accounted for by the schema theory. In this theory, the knowledge a person acquires from early childhood onward and develops through personal and vicarious experience is referred to as a schema, and is thought to act as a cognitive
background for organizing and processing texts such as stories (VAN DIJK and KINTSCH 1983, 52-54). The theory implies that what a person gains from his previous experiences-his principles, beliefs, values, prejudices, habits, etc.-forms the schema, and becomes a guide in understanding discourses and texts in a particular way. The theory also and necessarily includes schemata that are culture-bound. Children raised in the same culture acquire the schemata common to their culture. In terms of folktales and runs, this implies that people are familiarized with the form of runs and tales from their childhood on, and are accustomed to their function and meaning.
Narrators learn to use these forms to awaken this hoard of knowledge and enable listeners to perceive the tales in a particular way. We can assume that a narrator's knowledge of the form and function of runs is culturally given, but that his ability to use them in activating the audience's previously acquired store of meanings and associations must develop through experience, imagination, talent, and perhaps imitation and emulation.
Seen from the perspective of the schema theory, then, folktale runs are traditionally useful devices for the narrator to organize the discourse in a way acceptable to the audience. As will be demonstrated below, the primary function of these structures is to manipulate the audience's knowledge and expectations regarding concepts like time and space: runs go beyond the morpho-syntactic level in which they are encapsulated and reach a richer extralinguistic dimension of meaning. Thus the dynamics of runs should not be sought only at the morpho-syntactic level; runs need to be analyzed within a wider perspective, starting from their linguistic form and compositional function and extending to the extralinguistic level signaled by the surface form.
To analyze the wider extralinguistic dimension encoded by runs, we need to consider both the relationship of the folktale world with the real world and the relationship of runs with the folktales.
Folktales express and explore people's ideas and perceptions of the world and their place in it (GOLDBERG 1986, 163). They do this by peculiar, and often unnatural, characters and occurrences. For this reason, the tale world is different from the real-life world in many ways, and the narrator has to be able to set the two apart.
In so doing he can manipulate the folktale discourse to make it more interesting for his audience. Runs, especially opening and closing runs, are tools for the narrator to realize this aim, forming an interface between the world of reality and that of the folktale. They are, in other words, devices which signal that the world of the folktale has oddities of various kinds. The opening run, for instance, activates the audience's knowledge of the odd world of the folktale, thus orienting it to the tale by moderating its expectations.
As mentioned in passing above, runs in Turkish folktales generally involve elements of humor. The improbable events and characters mentioned in runs clash with the audience's world knowledge and trigger laughter, which, in turn, helps the audience to relax its expectations and allow the narrator to introduce or seal the unforeseeable, unpredictable, and astonishing events and characters of the tale.Their humor enables runs to easily open and close a highly unlikely world. Humor, therefore, stabilizes the interfacing function of runs.

Time Organization
Opening runs in Turkish folktales accomplish their interfacing function primarily by manipulating the audience's time concept, either by reversing the progression of time or by changing its linearity to circularity (KARABAS 1981, 210 and YUCEL 1982, 81). The former strategy, which we can call "regression," conveys the audience to an abstract temporal/spatial order in the past which has only a slight connection with everyday life and reality. In this abstract dimension many things were possible: the transformation of animals to humans, the switch of one nonliving thing to another, or the change in size of real-world beings. This was a time when, as in run 4 above, the camel was a town crier, the dog a porter, the cardigan a duvet, and a camel could shrink in size and pass through a sieve; or, as in runs 7 and 8, a time when the rooster was an imam, the father tiger an apprentice, the mule a porter, and the sieve was in the cauldron.
In these runs, regression in time is not only captured by the feeling of inversion as such, but also by rendering this meaning in a peculiar syntactic form. These runs are mostly encoded in subordinate clauses that have a feeling of the past due to the use of iken (while, when). The incompleteness of the clauses creates the impression that we are moving backwards in time and space, but that we do not know how far we will recede. We can only infer that we are being taken to a place in which only an unreal tale-world can exist.

7) Forforadan, sursureden, 4 Tire'den. Yiyip icherek, konup gocherek, inip chay bashlarinda soguk sular icherek. Horoz imam iken, sinek padishah iken, kaplan baba benim yanimda chirak iken. Ali dost, Veli dost, tekkede kaldi bizim eski post. Avludan soktum elimi, kavradim ince belini, imamin kayki gelini. Bir var iken, bir yok iken, Istanbul'dan chiktik.
Hashlamacilar hashlama hashlamish ,bizde de masal bashlamish(BORATAV1969, 334). (From far-off lands, from the uttermost ends of the world, and from Tire. Eating and drinking, landing and wandering, stopping to drink water from cold streams. When the rooster was an imam, and father tiger an apprentice by me. Ali a comrade, Veli too, at the dervish lodge I forgot my sheepskin robe. I put my hand through the courtyard, to grasp her delicate waist, the imam's loose daughter-in- law's. Once here once nowhere, we left Istanbul. The boilers boiled the food, I heard, and our tale has started.)

8) Zaman zamanda iken, kalbur kazanda iken, deve tellal, katir hamal iken, ben ak sakalli pir iken, babamin beshigini tingir mingir sallar iken, var varanin sur surenin, parasiz meyhaneye girenin sharap shishesi bashinda paralanir.
Buradan kalktim, kale kapisina gittim, baktim, mujdeci geldi, dedi: "Baban dunyaya geldi."
Soktum elimi cebime, vereyim diye bir hediye, chikardim uch akche; birinin dibi yok, birini ortasi yok, birisi hichten yok.
Hichten yokunu mujdeciye verdim, ben de babami gormeye geldim, baktim ki babam beshikte yatiyor. Dedim: "Hosh geldin, baba." Babam kalkti, bashima vurdu bir sopa. Ben de kizdim gittim, vurdum bir kapi, chikti icherden bir kadi. Dedi: "Ne istersin be adam?" Dedim: "Dunyaya
geldi babam." Bakin, soyleyecegim bir yalan (Kunos 1987, 37). (When time was in time, and the sieve in the cauldron, and the camel a town crier, and the mule a porter, and I a white-bearded guide, and softly rocking my father's cradle, reach that who reaches, ride that who rides, the wine bottle is broken to pieces on your head if you enter a bar penniless. I rose and went to the portcullis, I looked and saw the postrider coming. "Your father is born," he was crying. I put my hand into my pocket, wanting to give him a gift. I took out three silver coins: one lacks a bottom, one a middle, and one is nowhere. This last one I gave to the postrider, and went to see my father. I saw that he lay in his cradle. "Welcome father," I said. My father rose, hit my head with a stick. I was sore, so departed and knocked on a door; from inside came a kadi. "What is it that you want from me?" asked he. "My father is born," said I. Listen, what I'll tell is a lie.)

In runs 9a-c below, the same technique of regression is employed. In these instances, the audience is led infinitely back in time and space, when and where God had many servants (as in runs 9a and 9b), or when there existed no one but God (as in run 9c). The idea of regression is encoded in the second phrase of each of these runs, while the first phrases encode the transient nature of the upcoming tale world by use of var and yok, two verbs that literally mean "exist" and "not exist," respectively. The first expressions of runs 9a-c, which are encoded by these verbs, tell the audience that it is not clear whether or not the tale world exists.
We may think it does, but it will disappear the next instant. It has an illusory existence, hence it is "here" this moment, "nowhere" the next, as indicated in the translations. It is also worth noting how the narrator captures the traditional religious aspect of Turkish culture in these runs by employing the word Allah, "God" (due to the influence of the Moslem religion, it has become a traditional discourse mode in the Turkish language to start activities with the name of God). By starting a tale in this manner the narrator successfully encodes this tradition, creating a channel through which the audience can easily enter the tale world.
Bir varmish bir yokmush, the first phrase of runs 9a and 9c, requires further explanation. This phrase is a very commonly used short tale- starting formula. It is such a well-accepted traditional form that narrators use it even at the end of longer runs (e.g., run 4) to reinforce the runs' discourse-organizing function. This phrase has therefore become a very powerful cognitive signal that awakens associations related with the tale world.
The power of bir varmish bir yokmush also derives from its idio- syncratic morpho-syntax, namely its use of the verbs var and yok, as explained above, and -mish,5 the inferential particle. Due to its meaning (explained below), this particle is commonly and traditionally used in narrating folktales.It is primarily for this reason that its use in runs 9a and 9c forms a cognitive clue pointing to the tale world.
9a) Bir varmish bir yokmush. Allahin kulu chokmush (KORKMA1Z963, 124). (Once here once nowhere. God had many servants, they say.)
9b) Vardi yoktu. Allahin kulu choktu (GUNAY1975, 36). (It was here it was nowhere. God's servants were many.)
9c) Bir varmish bir yokmush. Allahtan bashka kimse yokmush (BORATAV1969, 327). (Once here once nowhere. There was no one but God, they say.)

The particle -mish indicates that the speaker has not witnessed the action directly but learnt about it through inferential evidence or hear-say. In this capacity, -mish denotes a mental/psychological distance between the speaker and the event that he relates. The use of -mish shows the speaker's unwillingness to commit himself to the truth of what he is expressing or to guarantee that the action has or will happen. The particle -mish thus reflects the noncommittal mood of the speaker. The narrator who uses this particle in his opening runs is actually saying, "What I'll tell you now may or may not be true. Don't take my words at face value." Runs that are rendered in -mish, then, are a sign to the audience that the upcoming events should be taken with a grain of salt. Seen from this perspective, run 9a and the last phrases of runs 4 and 8 are devices enabling the narrators to say that they do not vouch for the truth of the mode of existence to which they take their audience.6
On the other hand, one variant of 9, namely 9b, is rendered in -di, the past tense marker, instead of -mish, the inferential mode marker. This, however, does not destroy the message that the tale is make-believe; the use of var and yok still conveys the message that the tale is of an unreal nature.
To see further how certain meanings are negotiated by surface morphology, we can go back to runs 4, 7, and 8, some of whose clauses have an idiosyncratic structure due to an unusual use of iken. This form is a postclitic in Turkish that forms subordinate clauses of time. Normally, iken clauses are connected to a main clause with a verb in the past tense; iken in such cases explains that an event took place at a defined time in the past. Examining run 4 and certain clauses of 7 and 8, we note that they do not have dependent clauses to which subordinate clauses with iken can be connected; i.e., while a time in the past is mentioned, the exact parameters of this past are undefined.
Hence, while a feeling of the past is conveyed by iken, the time of the events is purposefully left vague, a feeling reinforced when iken clauses are repeated. This, together with the feeling of regression encoded by the inversion of categories , allows the narrator to successfully convey the meaning that we are going back in time and space towards an unknown mode of existence.

The second technique of manipulating time--changing the linearity of time to circularity--is achieved by shifting the natural temporal order in such a way that the past is incorporated in the present, and the present in the past. This can be observed in run 4, where the narrator says babam besh yashinda, ben onbeshimde iken, ben babamin beshigini tingir mingir sallariken (and[when]my father in his fifth year, I in my fifteenth, softly rocking his cradle), and in 6, where the narrator uses a different version of this run in the introduction and elaborates on it in the second part. By shifting the natural temporal order, the narrator creates a clash between our real-world expectations and the universe of the tale. He thus generates humor, which forms a background for his underlying message: that what he is about to say is timeless, that it could have taken place in the past or it may occur in the future.

The Introduction of the World of the Tale
Although the manipulation of the time concept is the primary function of runs, a related and more general function is to acquaint the audience with the unreal and strange happenings of the tale world. Narrators generally fulfill this function by means of paradoxes or tautologies, expressions that are inherently strange due to their surface linguistic form. This can be seen in the second part of run 8, for instance. Here the narrator, having already described the different mode of temporality by means of the first part, introduces a series of strange statements about three silver coins.
The expression birinin dibi yok is strange, because we know that a silver coin does not have a bottom, it is not like a box or other hollow object. Neither does "bottom" refer to the other side of the coin, since the expression would then mean that the coin is nonexistent, for obviously a coin cannot exist without its reverse side. Similarly, saying birinin ortasi yok, birisi hichten yok (one [lacks] a middle and one is nowhere) would mean that these coins do not exist. It is, moreover, impossible to give a nonexistent object to someone, thus the oddity of the expression hichten yokunu mujdeciye verdim (I gave this last one [the one that is nowhere] to the post rider).
The oddity of these expressions derives from the fact that they are self- evidently false; i.e., they are paradoxical. The paradox described here complements the unreal mode of temporality previously introduced, thus conveying the message that the world of the upcoming tale is not only outside the time parameters of the real world, but also outside its parameters of common sense. Ben ben iken, the introductory phrase of run 4, fulfills the same function of orienting the audience. In this case, the idea that the tale world is odd is encoded in a tautology. The surface morphology of this phrase thereby acts as a cognitive category invoking the strangeness of the tale world's characters and events.
To further familiarize the audience with the universe of the tale, the narrator may adopt a narrative-like style in runs, a technique by which he can recite events as if he has experienced them. He thereby establishes an empathetic relationship between himself and the audience, allowing him to involve the audience in the tale and manipulate it better during narration. The second part of run 8 provides an example of this technique. Here the events are rendered in subordinate clauses, with iken combined to main clauses having verbs marked by the past tense marker -di. Because of the grammatical completeness of these sentences, the feeling is created that the events have really taken place at some time in the past (it is necessary to note that -di, in addition to showing past tense, denotes that the speaker has directly experienced the events; AKSU-KOC1988, 18).
It is interesting to note that, though the narrator suggests through this usage that he was personally involved in the tale, he does not forget to warn his audience that the ensuing events should be taken with a grain of salt. So he says, "bakin, soyleyecegim bir yalan" (Look! What I'll tell is a lie). This is also a signal to the audience that the tale is starting.
The audience is oriented in a similar way by run 7, which sounds like a series of incidents the narrator has witnessed either while traveling in far-off places-both temporally and spacially-or in Istanbul, a real city. An interesting incident he recites in this run has to do with the imam's (the community religious leader's) daughter-in-law. In Moslem communities, it is nearly taboo to talk about the lives of the imam and his close relatives. Also, neither the imam nor his relatives are expected to behave indecorously; if they do, the resulting gossip can severely disrupt the life of the community. Hence the run's suggestion of improper behavior on the part of the imam's daughter-in-law (whom it labels as kayki, loose) is quite surprising. It should be noted, however, that the incident begins with the curious, and therefore humorous, avludan soktum elimi (I put my hand through the courtyard).
The humor in this expression serves as a euphemism for what is about to be said, helping the audience readjust its expectations for the upcoming incident. In this way the taboo subject, and the implied gossip, can be safely introduced. A further message to the audience is that the tale may involve the articulation of certain social issues.

Other Functions
Once the boundary of the tale world is established by the opening runs as explained above, it is kept intact until the coda of the tale. During the course of the story the narrator may again rely on runs for various reasons, such as to manipulate the passage of time, to mark an episode boundary, or simply to suspend action and uphold interest. The following expression is formulaic, and helps the narrator to manipulate the audience's concept of the passing of time:

10) Masallarda vakitlar tez gechermish (BORATAV 1969, 215). (Time goes fast in tales, they say.)

The following run is used by some narrators for the same purpose as above, as well as to shift topics or mark an episode boundary within the tale. The humor involved helps the narrator to uphold interest in the ensuing episode:

11) Gitmish, gitmish. Dere tepe duz gitmish.... Alti ay bir guz gitmish .... Bir de donmush arkasina bakmish ki bir arpa boyu yol gitmish (BORATAV1969, 62). (He went on and on, I heard. He walked along the hills and the streams. He walked for six months and an autumn. And when he stopped and turned back, he realized that he had come as far as a barley's size.)

Ending the Tale
The narrator resorts to runs again to close the tale. The use of closing runs like 5 and 6 above announces to the audience that the tale has ended, and that they are now back to real-world time. The optative markers employed (-lim in 5, ellipsis in 6) are especially effective in conveying this message. As opposed to the past tense marker -di and the inferential -mish, the optative indicates that a reference to the future has been made. This is clear in the second expression of run 5, where it serves to wish the audience happiness in a humorous way.
The message conveyed by run 6 is a bit more implicit. In this case, the narrator seals the events of the tale with the imagery of three apples falling from the sky. In Turkish culture, the use of apples in a phrase signifies the value placed upon the things and people described. Furthermore, objects falling from the sky are traditionally believed to have come from the heaven, i.e., they are precious and believed to bring riches and good luck. The three apples falling from the sky, therefore, are used by the narrator as a traditionally defined cognitive signal to indicate the value accorded to the narrative, the audience, and himself.
Curiously, the "me," the "storyteller," and the "Sidika Hanim" mentioned in this run refer to the same person, namely the person who told the tale. This seems to be a metaphorical and witty way of expressing the central role of the narrator in the act of narration.
Onlar ermish muradina (they have reached their desire), the first phrase of run 5, requires further explanation. This is a culturally well known and commonly used tale-closing formula. Due to its traditionality, it is a forceful cognitive clue to the listeners signaling that the tale world has disappeared. This is how the narrators traditionally encode the message that the listeners' initial expectations--that good be rewarded, bad punished, and justice established--have been fulfilled.
By means of this expression it is announced that the mission of the folktale and of the narrator has been accomplished, and that the task of the audience, which was to decode the underlying meanings and messages using its culturally shaped schemata, has ended. The listener should be happy now since his expectations of the tale have been fulfilled: the heroes of the tale have achieved their goal.

All the techniques mentioned in the foregoing analysis are employed in runs in order to fulfill the traditionally established role of these forms, i.e., that of bridging the gap between the real world and the strange world of the tale, thus orienting the audience to the latter's oddities. The audience, familiar with runs since childhood, readily accepts them as cognitive signals indicating that a world temporally and spatially different, where strange and unusal events take place, is about to unfold or has just unfolded. The surface morphology of the runs and their idiosyncratic syntax are conducive to the achievement of the narrator's goal, providing tools to encode the run's traditional function and the meaning.
It would therefore be wrong to say that the compositional utility of the runs restricts the narrator; on the contrary, it enables him to use his talent and imagination more freely in realizing his goals. The dynamics of runs, then, can be seen in how their institutionalized function is encoded, that is, in how linguistic devices, stylistic choices, and the common traditional background of the narrator and the audience interact.

1. An earlier version of this work was presented at the 5th Turkish Linguistics
Conference, 16-18 May 1991, Izmir, Turkey. 1. These and the other runs referred to in this paper were collected by distinguished Turkish folklorists. In the translations an attempt has been made to convey the semantic structure of the expressions by using a syntactic pattern reminiscent of
the original Turkish. For this reason the English renderings may sound outlandish, but I feel that this is necessary in order to convey the underlying semantic system of a different language.
2. The mukhtar is the elected head of a town, or of a neighborhood within a town.
3. Hanim is an enclitic showing in a respectful manner that the person referred to is a female.
4.The expression forforadan sursureden is not linguistically acceptable or semantically meaningful in Turkish. It could be an elliptic form of a linguistically permissible and meaningful expression, or a run that has taboos in it, such as blasphemy. We may assume that the narrator, not finding it appropriate to use such a run, has changed it to avoid the taboo. The translation of this expression thus created problems. Since its original form could not be traced, it was rendered as "from faroff lands, from the uttermost ends of the world," in order to add to the overall semantic structure of the run in 7).
5. Due to the morphophonemic structure of Turkish, many suffixes change form when attached to words. For instance, the inferential particle can become -mish, or -mush. Similarly, the past-tense marker can appear as -di, -ti, -tu, or -tu. To capture this variance in form, linguistic notation is employed when reference is made to such markers.
6.To convey this sense of -mish, it was translated as "I heard" or "they say."

No comments: