My guess is that the phrase, "Indian giver" grew out of a cultural misunderstanding about what is a gift and how to respond. Understanding the responsibilities of gift giving and gift accepting are a constant problem when alien cultures meet. We take for granted our knowledge of the gift-giving practices of our own society, they are quite complex though, but when we are faced with a new society it is very easy to misunderstand generous gestures and the chances to make faux pas are legion.

(Settling back in his chair and lighting a pipe) Many years ago, I was on the Anatolian Desert in Turkey on my way to visit the purported site of ruins of the ancient city of Troy. At that time, very few people went there and the road was not yet paved. It was tough going on a motorcycle, blastoven hot and very dusty.

It was nearing midday when, several miles away, I saw a cloud of dust blowing in the hot wind. It reminded me of a scene, I think from Gone With the Wind", in which an army is shown moving across a dry and dusty landscape. Even though the dust cloud had reminded me of a military unit marching, I was very surprised when a squadron of cavalry galloped out from the middle of the cloud and came across the desert directly towards me.

Four cavalry officers on horseback with carbines and sidearms are pretty convincing in terms of fillng their requests which, luckily, one of them could repeat in French. They wanted to know where I was coming from, where I was going, what country's passport I was travelling on, that sort of thing. The fact that I was American and on a motorcycle registered in Switzerland was already suspicious. What I didn't know was that there was a great deal of instability in Turkey during this particular time. I could be forgiven for not knowing this since I could read no Turkish at all so even though this was in all of the newspapers I remained blissfully unaware of the concerns of the Turkish people and their government.

After a little bit of talking and a lot of smiling, all tension in the situation dissolved. In a clearly hospitable gesture, the officers asked me to follow them as they cantered back up the way they had come. They pulled up by the side of the road at a concrete cube about five feet high. Out of the cube were two quarter inch pipes, side by side, above a basin. The soldiers caught up to us and orders were barked at them. They stood proudly at attention and then began singing - for my benefit! I kept looking at the fountain and thinking, "These guys would sure as hell rather be drinking" but there was no sign of anything but unit pride.

When the song was over, they formed into two single lines. At the front, next to the basin, an officer stood with a watch. In twos, the soldiers advanced to the pipes. They each had what I guess was about one minute to drink and wash the dust off before they were moved on and replaced by the next pair of soldiers.

While this was going on, I was talking to the commanding officer. He reached into his tunic, pulled out a package of turkish cigarettes and offered me one. I accepted. He then took out what looked like a pearl handled Beretta but it was really a cigarette lighter. When he pulled the trigger, a flint inside struck a spark and a flame came out of the barrel. I commented appreciatively on what a fine lighter it was and suddenly the lighter was mine. There was nothing I could say to stop him from giving it to me. I had inadvertently triggered (so to speak) his culture's gift-giving. I figured that I had to come up with a gift to give in exchange that would be of equal worth (not too much or too little - either would be insulting). I had a carton of Marlboro cigarettes in a saddlebag so I brought that out and passed it to him. He was delighted and it was clear that I had gotten past this potential area for misunderstanding that might lead to hard feelings. It turned out to be a most memorable experience and I was left with the memnto of that lighter which is in the dsk in front of me as I write this.

There was one other thing I was thankful for. This same officer was riding a particularly fine chestnut stallion. I had been about to compliment him on his mount when something interrupted me - this was before the cigarette and lighter incident. I have often wondered what would have happened if I had gone ahead and said something innocent like, "That's a fine horse you have there." Would I have ended up trailing a horse across Asia Minor and back to Paris?

Sourdough (who does not have a horse - even today)