As it turns out, the school bus driver is definitely not a pirate. He does look like one though, especially because of his beard (with beads in it), his silver earrings in both ears and his thick, dark hair in a pony tail. When he waves hello, every finger has a ring on it. All he needs is an eye-patch!
Murat is my daughter’s bus driver. He knows how to turn an early morning bus ride into an exciting adventure. The kids absolutely adore this man, even though he would intimidate most adults.
We first landed in Istanbul in a wet and gloomy March. I had only visited during the summer and the weather was a shock. Vacationing in Istanbul was totally different from moving here permanently.
I was five months pregnant with my daughter and had just crossed the Atlantic, having sold our home in the U.S.A. In comparison to Istanbul, Herndon VA could fit into one small suburb of it. To say that I was overwhelmed is an understatement.
Fast forward four years, I was quite comfortably living in Istanbul and raising a daughter. When the time came to look for schools, we visited our first choice, with nervous expectation.
Having met the staff and explored the grounds, my husband and I knew this was the best place for our family. What I did not know, was the importance of choosing the right bus service. Unlike some countries, Turkey does not have a school bus system in place. Most schools and colleges hire companies to do the driving. Some are good, others not so much. I was mortified. Being a first time mom and a control freak helicopter parent, I couldn’t stand the thought of sending my little girl off in some strange bus that had zero affiliation with the perfect school we had just picked out.
All that changed when I first shook hands with Murat at the parent-teacher meeting. It was sunny out and the meeting was set in a beautiful courtyard of the school, located in a gorgeous nineteenth century building, in the heart of Istanbul. I saw a very tall man with large sunglasses covering his face. He had on more necklaces that I might have worn my entire life. Dressed in black and carrying a binder in his hand, he was shaking hands with parents. I thought, “No way is my kid going to ride in this man’s bus”. He looked like the type who listened to AC/DC very loudly and smoked a pack a day. Mind you, Turkish people smoke all the time and everywhere.
I approached Murat and introduced myself. He shook my hand in his huge palm and smiled the most disarming and kind smile. In his binder, he had the maps of every route his bus would take. He asked me for my number and instantly added me into his messaging group chat. He explained that every kid would have a separate seat and asked to provide a booster seat if we found it necessary. That binder of his contained more details on school bus service that I could ever think of. Before I left, Murat came up to me and said that his little passengers were his adopted children. And that he would do everything to assure their safety. He did forget to mention three important things during that first conversation; firstly, that my daughter would go on to enjoy every school bus ride for the rest of that academic year; secondly, that I would be getting photos of happy kids singing on the bus (courtesy of his wife who was a hostess on Murat’s bus) and thirdly; that my little munchkin would always call him Murat Abi (uncle Murat). No matter the mood Olivia was in when she would wake up, once that bus door slid open, her face would light up with a big “Merhaba Murat Abi!”
So when you pick a school, make sure your bus driver is as amazing as ours. And if he looks like Jack Sparrow, well, that’s just an added bonus.