FEBRUARY 2015 - THE GLOBE: Rape, murder, cremate…

Rape cannot be accepted under any circumstance, but…What kind of a mindset can one have to rape a young woman, who is going about her business of returning home from school, to join her family for dinner, study some more to finish college? We are and must strive for keeping women safe even if they walk on the street naked… We want to make sure all our male world citizens understand that if a woman says No, or is not in a condition to give informed consent, sex is rape. Yet, humanity has a long way toward accomplishing this goal, even in the USA, where lots of efforts have been implemented toward that goal. In other parts of the world, occasional drama that unfolds may force all your hair to stand: A man from Turkey finds alone in his mini-bus an attractive woman as a passenger, a client. She is the last passenger to be dropped off. Instead of delivering her to her final destination, he veers right or left and takes her into a remote area and attempts raping (to be seen if rape was completed on autopsy) her.

She fights, of course she will, she is an enlightened Turkish woman in college, who understands a man cannot just kidnap and rape her. She uses a spray to get away from him. What kind of a mindset can one have to lose it when a woman does not accept to be raped? He kills her. Now blood in his hands, he reaches out to his father and friend. What kind of mindset can one have to lose all empathy for a victim of this most vicious crime on earth to stand with a rapist and a murderer? The clan of males of the murderer’s “support system” and the murderer join in a shared psycho-/sociopathic camaraderie and they cremate the dead body of the raped especially the cut hands to destroy the DNA under her nails!

All societies on earth struggle with rape. All societies on earth struggle with murder. All societies on earth struggle with crimes involving the death of one or more people, some intentional, premeditated, some impulsively committed like in this case. But for some reason, when rape and murder and attempts to destroy all evidence with yet additional means of violence are intermingled, it makes one’s stomach turn to such an extent, you almost lose trust in humanity. I recovered to a certain extent only when I heard the women in that society rose up and demanded dignity for the victim, demanded protection and elimination of this type of patriarchal, power-driven crimes, demanded to stand by the victim’s coffin in the mosque when the clergy asked them to go to the rear, segregated section so that they would not be seen my men.

You ask yourself, why? Why does Turkish society and other societies where women are kidnapped, raped, killed routinely harbor such impossible-to-comprehend violence against women? Why does the family of this regular man going about his business, who turns into a socio-psychopath impulsively team up with him in destruction of all evidence of his crimes instead of turning him to authorities? The answer of not only these questions, but also of how to prevent such crimes against humanity is within the question isn’t it?

When we learn more about the offender, we start understanding that he was a victim-turned-into-an-offender, all too common in all human tragedy. He came from a family where the father was a domestic violence perpetrator, where the mother had nobody to go to including community services, where this man was also possibly physically abused as a child. Had that family not raised him in a way to allow rapist tendencies, they could have also been able to hand him over to authorities. The fact that they raised a man with a rapist’s power control mentality, the fact that they raised a man with tendencies to murder when he couldn’t get his way, the fact that they raised a man, who recognized no boundaries whatsoever, the fact that they raised a man with no empathy, they were also able to team up with him to protect a rapist and a murderer and to destroy the body of the victim with no shame, no empathy, no honor, no respect for life especially the life of a woman.

How does a family raise a son who might potentially rape a woman? Does talking about the size of the penis of a boy with pride affect him as he grows up when a girl’s privates are private, very private, hidden from all discourse throughout her life?  Does allowing boys to be outside all they want when girls are expected to be home at a certain time affect a boy’s understanding of a woman to be out and about after dark? What does a boy growing up in a family where women go out only under the protection and supervision of male members of the family think about a college student getting on the bus alone at 10 pm? What do potential rapists read in a court verdict that lets go of 7 men raping a 13 year-old under the premise of consensual sex decreed under political pressure in Turkey? What do people in a society hear in a clergy’s sermon when he preaches “the cause for all rape and assault is women getting dressed in a provocative way. Devil appears to men in the form of women dressed provocatively”? Can one hear anything in this statement but “men are weak and will and may submit to the Devil when the Devil/woman turns them on” and justify rape?

The only cure to eliminating rape is to start thinking about gender roles in a society. As long as the patriarchal society structure that gives men all they want and need and suppresses women as much as possible with fear and intimidation, rape will remain perpetrated by men feeling entitled to anything: Just like the above murderer did. He was given the right to claim sexual gratification whenever he wanted with whomever he chose as long as he wouldn’t be caught. He was so full of need for power as any perpetrator is, a “No” was a threat to his existence, which triggered the urge to kill: Need for power to control. Then, more lack of empathy and accountability and yet another level of entitlement: Burn, destroy, both the victim and evidence so that he could continue living his life with all the entitlements he perceived to deserve: Who gave him all these entitlements, we need to ask; starting from his parents, to his education, to the society, to the political culture...

Societies should look into how we individuals shape up our communities. How do we as parents determine what the future generations will be like? How do we instill virtues into our children’s souls and how do we miss doing so if we do? What kind of boundaries do we set for our children to help them grow up to claim reasonable rights for themselves and respect the rights of others, even become mature adults to give to their societies instead of take away in a destructive way, sometimes like in this case? What do our schools teach children and youth about gender roles and sexuality among other things? How do our religious orientations affect how we raise our children? Do we use our religion to give them the message of being good and fair and respectful for all creatures created while being free in our thinking and expression? Of doing good to and for everybody in our society? Of controlling our basic instincts with self-respect first and foremost then with respect for others’ dignity? Of treating equally all creatures of whatever higher power we believe in created, man or woman, human or animal, ours or others’?

Can our politicians push aside their political agendas and support justice for all? Will all perpetrators of the above terrifying crimes be convicted via a just legal process in Turkey and anywhere on earth including ours? We know that “good kids” do very very bad things in our back yard in the USA… Will political agendas and comraderies come in the way again in Turkey and will the victim be “convicted” one more time as it happened in several rape and child sexual abuse cases in Turkey during the last decade ? Does political will have any role in this trend? One wonders if all there is to this vicious scenario is the conversion of a society to one with limitless male power glorifying submission of females into the home in fear of rape at every turn in the public arena. And are those insisting to remain in schools, on the roads, in the city squares at risk of being raped and killed by those encouraged by a changing culture? I trust with all my heart that Turkish society will not accept this trajectory knowingly or unknowingly imposed upon the society by those that have been re-carving Turkish society into a medieval one. 

References: 1) http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/feb/17/turkish-woman-ozgecan-aslans-sparks-anti-violence-campaign-sendeanlat

FEBRUARY 2015 - THE GLOBE: Cinsel saldırı, cinayet ve ceset yakma…

Şiddet bir kez girmeye görsün insanın yaşamına, nerede duracağı hiç belli olmaz. Bir çocuk aile içi şiddete maruz kalarak buyurse, hele de bu şiddet cinsel şiddeti de içeriyorsa… Bir çocuk fiziksel istismara maruz kalarak büyütülürse, fiziksel istismar sırasında kafatası kırılırsa… Bir çocuk, çevresinde kadının hep baskılandığını, aşağılandığını ve annesinin kemerle, kesici aletle dövüldüğünü seyrederek yetişirse…  Bu olumsuz çocukluk yaşantılarının (OÇY) kurbanı olan çocuk nasıl bir erişkin haline gelir? 

Cinsel saldırıya direnç gösterdiği için Özgecan Aslan’ı önce öldüren ve sonra da yakan Suphi Altındöken’in annesi işte tam da bu öyküyü anlatıyor: Suphi’nin babası kimbilir nasıl bir çocukluktan geçerek ailesine şiddet uygulayan kurbanın saldırgan haline geldiği bir insanlık dramı sürecinden geçiyor. Suphi’nin annesi kimbilir nasıl bir çocukluktan geçerek aile içi şiddete yıllarca katlanmak zorunda kalacak bir kurban haline geliyor. Açıkça anlatıyor: “Aileme dönmekten korktum, gidecek başka da hiçbir yerinm yoktu.”  Acılı anne, ısrarla “bu çocuk neler çekti?” ifadesini kullanıyor.

Normal koşullar altında yetişmiş, sevgi, destek ve huzur içinde yetişmiş insanlar için anlaması çok zor bir durum Özgecan’ın başına gelenler: Nasıl olur da bir erkek “istediğim anda istediğim kadına sahip olacağım” narsisizmini içselleştirebilir? Nasıl olur da bir erkek buna “hayır” diyen kendisine saygısı olan kadına karşı tüm empatisini yitirip kadını öldürmeye kalkışır? Nasıl olur da haydi bütün bunlar oldu, tek kaygısı “DNA”yı yoketmek” olup cesedi yakar? Nasıl olur da tüm bunları yaparken kendisine biri yaşını başını almış olması gereken iki tane daha erkek yardımcı bulur?

Elbette, Suphi’nin de, aile içi şiddet uygulayıcısı, babasının da, ve Suphi’ye en azından son sucunda yardım ve yataklık eden arkadaşının da ruhsal durumlarında bir bozukluk olmalı. Aksi takdirde, tüm etik, moral, sosyal kurallar çiğnenerek, üç büyük insanlık suçu, cinsel saldırı, cinayet, ve ceset yakma ardı ardına işlenemez. Ancak, “ruh hastası bir adam bir cinayet işledi diye sokaklara dökülmeye gerek yok” diyerek bu olayın arkasındaki çok büyük toplumsal sorunu da görmezden gelmek büyük bir toplumsal aymazlık olur.

Gelişmiş ülkelerde, işte böylesi “outlier”, sıradışı olaylar karşısında, aklı başında insanlar biraya gelip, “Bu olayın arkasındaki toplumsal etmenler nelerdir, bu etmenleri ve dolayısıyla kötü sonuçlarını engellemek için ne yapmak gerekir?” sorularına yanıt arayarak toplumun ve insanlığın ilerlemesine yol açarlar. İşte şu anda karşımızdaki görev  tam da budur:

Suphi’yi tecavüzcü, katil ve insan yakıcısı haline getiren etmenler nelerdir? Bütün çocukluğu boyunca aile içi şiddete maruz kalmış olması mı? Annesinin aile içi şiddete rağmen gidecek yerinin olmaması, onu ve çocuklarını şiddetten  kurtaracak toplumsal kurumların olmaması mı? Toplumda boşanmış kadın haline gelmektense, aile içi şiddete katlanmayı yeğ tutma felsefesinin Suphi’yi ve annesini aile içi şiddet ortamına uzun yıllar mahkum etmiş olması mı ? Toplumun kadına yönelik şiddeti önemsemeyişi ve kadını “Kocandır, döver de sever de.” mentalitesiyle, erkeği de “Erkek adam, ne yapsa evladır” felsefesiyle tutsak edişi mi ? Yoksa bunların tümü mü? 

Araştırmalar açıkça gösteriyor ki, fiziksel, duygusal, ve cinsel istismar, ihmal, ana-baba ayrılığı, ailede ruhsal sorun, suça eğilim, madde kullanımı ve aile içi şiddet gibi OÇY, erişkinlerin ruh sağlığını bozmaktatird. ABD’de OÇY kurbanı olan erişkinlerin tüm nüfusa oranı %50-65 arası değişmektedir. Olumsuz çocukluk yaşantıları, ikinci nesilde de aile içi şiddet, madde kullanımı, ruhsal sorunlar, suça eğilim gibi sosyal ve davranışsal sorunlar yanısıra diyabet, kalp hastalığı, inme gibi pekçok fiziksel sağlık sorununa yol açmaktadır.

İşte sadece Özgecan’ın ve Suphi’nin değil ama cezaevlerini dolduran yüzbinlerce “suçlu/kurban”ın dramı burada yatmaktadır. Bu yüzbinlerin yanısıra, adolesan intiharları, teröre karışma, evden kaçma, kadın ticaretine kurban olma, çocuk yaşta sokakta çalıştırılma, madde bağımlısı çocuklar gibi toplumsal örgümüzün acı parçaları haline gelen milyonların dramı da OÇY’da yatmaktadır.

Devlet ve toplumsal kurumlar biraraya gelerek toplumun bu derin yarası ile ilgili tüm gerçekleri ortaya çıkarmadan ve bu yarayı sarmak için gereken önlemler bilimsel kanıtlara dayanarak alınmadan, ne yazık ki başka Özgecanları ve Suphileri kaybetmeye devam edeceğiz.

Devlete ve Sağlık Bakanlığı’na sorularım ve çağrım şudur: Öncelikle, işlenen suçun hukuki kurallar çerçevesinde ve insan haklarına saygı çerçevesinde cezasının verileceği sükunetle topluma açıklanmalıdır. Suphi ve Özgecan’ın dramının arkasındaki sosyal sorunlar açıkça dile getirilip çok önemli bir toplumsal eğitim şansı uygun biçimde kullanılmalıdır. Suphi’ye ayrıntılı ruhsal değerlendirme yapılıp, davranışlarının arkasındaki OÇY açığa çıkarılmalıdır.  Sağlık Bakanlığının ruh sağlığı sorunlarını tarama projesi  çerçevesinde elde edilen veriler ve ülkemizdeki ruh sağlığ sorunlarının boyutu toplum ile açıkça paylaşılmalıdır. Yıllardır yürütülen bu proje sayesinde nasıl bir önleme planı yapıldığı ve atılan adımlar sayesinde ülkede ruh sağlığı sorunlarının nasıl değiştiği tüm toplum ile paylaşılmalıdır. 

Amacımız, beşikten mezara, aile yuvasına okula, işyerine, meydanlara kadar heryerde düşündüğünü korkmadan ifade edebilen özgür beyinler, hissettiğini korkmadan söze dökebilen yürekler yetiştirmek olmalı. Ancak o zaman, ikiyüzlülüğe, yalana dolana, çalıp çırpmaya, talana, şiddete, tecavüze, adam öldürmeye gerek kalmayacaktır. Çocuklarımız sevgi, koruyuculuk ve yüreklendirme ortamında çiçek açıp tüm kapasitelerini gerçekleştirecekler, toplumsal anziyete, depresyon, şiddet eğilimi, gaddarlık ve empati yoksunluğu ortadan kalkacaktır. 

ISTANBUL Prince Islands OCTOBER 2014 -5- HEYBELI AND KINALI ISLANDS

What a day... Having explored all of Burgazada, I decided from last night, to visit Kinaliada and Heybeliada today. Since I get up very early, I will have breakfast by the water not at the guest house. I head to Ergun Cafe where we had the delicious dessert yesterday. It turns out this is the place that the locals frequent the most. An Istanbulite Greek couple, the male has lived on the island forever and a German woman are my company. They all have become year-round residents for some time. They are reminiscing of their own grandmothers with sweet attributions.

Kinali ada" I will climb up to the top soon...

We leave together, they to catch their seabus and I to catch my city boat. Once I get to Kinali, I really need a place to have a cup of tea to warm up. I am told Burak patisserie is the place to go. Islands are very quiet both due to the season and today especially due to the weather. I join two gentlemen and a woman, who are also finding refuge from rain and wind in this warm place. Although I had breakfast with spinach pie and tea at Burgazada, I can't say no to a bogaca with cheese and dill, that just came out of the oven, delicious.

Greek church on Kinali closed, what is new?

The other customers apparently all know one another. They are thrilled to help me with guidance for the Greek and Armenian churches I'd like to visit. Greek church is a small one under lock as all the other churches have been so far. When I get to the Armenian church, which is much more impressive, I find a side door that is unlocked and enter. I sit at a bench and start meditating. In five minutes a lady is at the door inquiring what I am doing. It looks like, people responsible to maintain these religious homes are uncomfortable with visitors. I learn from her that even their cemetery is under lock. If not, people would come in drink and trash the cemetery or break the headstones, etc.  

Armenian church open for a few minutes..

I have heard from other people that, people vandalized churches and stolen the donation boxes, chandeliers, faucets to name a few. It is no wonder that they supervise anything and everything.   I recall the young man at Eyup Mosque and Complex my American colleague and I encountered a few days ago. When my friend and I tried to approach the group praying around the tomb of Eyup Sultan, who had fought in the Islamic armies along with Mohammed, this man approached us and told us we couldn't join the group. His explanation was, we have nothing to do with their churches, she shouldn't have anything to do with our mosques. I highly doubt, AKP is doing anything to eliminate this school of thought, in fact most likely they do everything to secure it. The lady unlocks the cemetery gate for me and my visit becomes a walking mediation, completing what I had started in the church. Where the Armenian cemetery ends, starts the muslim cemetery. A gentleman is digging a grave, yes he is doing it for the person, who died on the island, whose relatives I came across at the patisserie an hour ago. I have already become part of the island culture. The graves are so similar, there is in fact no difference among us after death, we are all the same, I wish religious fanatics could see this.

Armenian cemetery...

I then continue my walk up the hill toward the cable towers, assuming that would be the highest point on the island. The higher I go, the more spectacular the vistas become. Istanbul seems very friendly from this distance, but I know better what a sprawling urban monster of this size is like, when you get too close to it. At the summit is a small house, which I assume was built for the security guard of the premises. When I talk to him, he states he was indeed filling that role in the past, but no more. I can't ask him how it is that he and his family are still living in that house. That question may be too touchy for “political can of worms” reasons… I have learned that on each island there are small pockets of squatting communities consisting of a few houses per pocket. His house and 4-5 houses down the hill must be one such pocket on Kinali.

Mini squatting community on Kinali island

When I go down to the dock to board the Heybeli ada boat, I will meet a man that came to the islands 40 years ago from a Central Anatolia town Tokat. He will tell me that when somebody has lived in a particular home for a certain period of time, even if it is in an illegal location, say on state property, the occupiers are offered to pay a certain amount of occupation fee as long as they live in the property to avoid eviction; thus they become the state's tenants, the state having no choice in this.

Wild berries abound on all islands

I wonder if this man, who works in constructions is one of such tenants since I doubt he would be able to buy or rent a home on this very-expensive-to-live place. No wonder he advocates for the government with such fervor when I ask him how things are going with "Who else is there that is better than AKP, everybody coming to that post helps themselves" referring to and normalizing the corruption that made the Erdogan family one of the richest in the country.

Unexpected prickly pear cacti on Kinali...

As I head down, I come across prickly pear cactuses on the road side, which is peculiar since this part of Turkey receives a lot of rain and is very green, not the cactuses' native environment. Nobody to ask. I go through another wild strawberry patch and devour at least a pound of berries feeling like a "bear", knowing that the bears of national parks in the USA feast over berries in the high altitudes. I have lunch before I leave Kinali, at Durak restaurant that serves Turkish home-style dishes. I choose a dish called tas kebabi made with cubed beef, cubed potatoes, tomato sauce and spices cooked in the oven in a clay bowl. Turkish rice and yogurt/cucumber cold soup (tzatziki) complete my menu. It is indeed delicious. I learn that the young owner learned how to cook from his father in law, a former 5-star hotel chef. The same family is running this small but cozy restaurant.

Greek Theological High School on Heybeli island

I am finally at Heybeli ada after a brief boat ride. I would like to head to the Greek Orthodox Theological school located at the highest point on the island along with a monastery in the school yard. I hear that this school was shut down after the military coup of the 1970 and although it has a plate at the entrance that states "Istanbul Private Greek High School for Boys", it is almost a museum arranged in a school format. It so happens that there is a big Greek tourist group visiting the school. The gentleman at the gift shop, who speaks only Greek and English welcomes me to visit the church along with them.

The Monastery within the Theological School 

I join the visitors, who all go to a painting of the Virgin Mary and Christ and kiss the eyes of at least the two, but some all the figures in the painting. After drawing the shape of a cross on their chest, most bend forward and as they come back up, they make a three-level greeting movement with their hands just as the greeting of the Ottoman era especially before a person of higher social stature. Interesting combination of religious beliefs and historical royal attitudes. The group is now invited to visit the upstairs of the school, which is closed to public. The gentleman downstairs, who speaks only Greek, neither Turkish nor English first tells me "Only the group", I am saddened. He changes his mind, I guess seeing the sad expression on my face and tells me in Greek "Come on, go on..." I am pleased and thank him in Greek "Efharisto poli". People are good and they are meant to be helpful. On top of the stairs though, is the third staff, who speaks both English and Greek. He is firm "Only the group, you can't enter." My heart breaks, but I won't argue, calmly turn around and descend.

Heybeli has more variety of dwellings...

My benevolent Greek friend is sad, but neither of us has the language to tell the other how we exactly feel and that we appreciate each other. I want to believe he would have told me he was sorry, I would have thanked him for trusting me. I head down taking the same trail only to take the gravel road to the left instead of the right at the foot of the woods. More of the Greek group is coming up on foot. One of the younger women looks at me and smiles with a "Yasas", which means "hellos". I smile back, those who are willing to connect with all women and men on earth will win in the end. I thank her and forgive the priest upstairs.

Heybeli island and seagull overseeing it!

Down by the waterfront, as I wait for the boat to arrive, my company is Polin, a young Greek Istanbulite, who's graduated from a vocational school teaching tourism and hospitality. She seems to be working at this cafe and tells me a lot about her life, her mother is a housewife, her father is an accountant. She stayed with her aunt for 11 months in Canada. She thinks Walmart would be great for Turkey since you could find everything you wanted at a Walmart! I tell her all that I know about Walmart and explain why it would be a very bad idea to have a Walmart in Istanbul. She smiles, I am not sure if she understands all that I try to convey.

Squatting community on Heybeli...

It turns out this is a cafe that the Greek women of the island get together to play card games. Conversations are fluid between Turkish and Greek, how sweet, just like our conversations in Iowa City between Turkish and English. I will go back to Ergun Cafe this evening to have tea to discover that they also serve dinner items from a group ordering soup. The same group will add English to the mixture of languages since I understand there is a Greek in their group from mainland Greece, whose accent may not be fully accessible to the Istanbulite Greeks. At that point, they switch to English.

Back at Burgaz around dusk...

Adalar is a unique place. Greeks, Armenians, and Jewish on the islands seem to be a very significant existence, which has been lost to the rest of the country. It was indeed the case in entire Turkey until the “Catastrophie” as Greeks call it; the streets of major cities were vibrant with music and language of minorities that made a significant impression on the social life and culture of especially Istanbul and Izmir among other smaller provinces and towns. All the way to Kayseri, at the heart of Anatolia, there was Greek, Jewish, and Armenian presence.

What better place than this to designate as a national park?

The two world wars unfortunately swept away the cultural heritage these minorities gifted Turkiye with for many centuries. Especially, after getting to know Adalar a bit better and after discovering how rich the social life is with Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Muslims, Alevis, and Sunnis along with seculars, I ache for this loss imperialists caused more than ever.  Although, Adalar represents the class difference in addition to ethnic differences, which at times may hurt those Turks that do not have, I still feel it is such a cultural, natural, and historical treasure and heritage, it would be a very wise idea to designate the non-private lands as a national park just as wisely the archipelago has been designated historical site with no permission for new construction.

Not a rare sight to see a wild animal, rather a communal pet take the best seat in a residence on the islands... 

Last morning on Burgaz. I thought I would sleep late and head to the boat. I wake up at 6 am to the symphony of the seagulls one more time. I treasure this, which I won't hear again for who knows how long, I get up and head to the Hristo Metamophosis monastery one more time. It is so peaceful, so noisy, yet so quiet. The only sounds that I hear are of the seagulls singing another playful operetta along with the background music of the Marmara with its boats and waves, oh, and the wind from the north: The rain of the night before has left a harsh wind to command the island.

Two of many a seagulls that kept my company over three days on Adalar...

As I climb up high, the birds follow me. How many video clips of their singing and dancing have I recorded for the last three days. More than I ever did all my life for sure. I take my “eye's share” off the wild strawberry shrubs. I notice that I lost one of my ear rings in the shrubs of yesterday when I had tried to take an alternative route down the trail from the Theological School of the Heybeli Ada. I smile and murmur to myself "Who knows when and if ever it will be found and by whom". I wonder if in the next several centuries somebody will find it and wonder where the second one might be. I wonder what kind of documentation about this single gold ring they will make in their museums. Or is it going to find its way into the hands of another adventurous hiker next season? Who knows, I send my wishes of happiness to whoever finds it. 

Erol our server at the guesthouse

I close my trip to Burgaz by having a cup of Turkish coffee at the balcony of the second story served by dear Erol, our server at the guest house, who has been living here for the last 9 years, his accent tells me he is from eastern Turkey. As I sip my coffee looking down on Marmara through the trees of the lot across the guesthouse, I think of my impressions of the last 3 days:

The last coffee on Burgaz island

distance

what is it that separates us

from one another

from all… our lives

is it the miles                                                             

when i am closest still, to you

when there is an ocean between us

a continent

when i am farthest to istanbul

when it is just 15 minutes

away

is it the concrete conglomerate

of ugliness

i want to distance from myself

as much as i can

all i see in it is

filth smeared on bills that change hands

smearing the filth to all

spilling the filth into

rivers, streams, lakes

oceans all over the world alike

i am closest to all

that is meaningful to me

when i am closest to earth

to her sons and daughters

be it her birds, be it her shrub

be it her wild berries

be it her rocky cliffs

be it the wild surf thrusting

itself onto the bosom of

the Mother Earth

big and enormous enough

to embrace it all.

listening to the melody

of all her sons and daughters

takes away all the distance

with those who can feel it,

who can hear it, who can smell it

who can see it with the eyes

that sparkle with the sunshine

that i so adore...

then... whether there is an ocean

or a continent or both in-between

it matters none

we are together

we speak the same language

we are on the same path

to bliss

hand in hand... 

Istanbul from a distance....

ISTANBUL Prince Islands OCTOBER 2014 -4- CLOSE UP BURGAZ ISLAND

Despite going to bed past midnight, we wake up relatively early around 6:30. We decide, we either get up and explore the island or go back to sleep to waste several hours until 9-10 am. We come to consensus that we would like to explore the land. I would like to go to Hristo monastery, which is at the highest point of the island, at some point. We encounter a middle aged woman, who is taking her morning hike in the same direction as we do. She stops and waits for us.

On the way to the top of Burgaz

Lovely, we are now four women walking together. I chat her up and she tells us that her husband and his brothers do textile business and they have been on Burgaz for 40 years. They are originally from Sivas a central Anatolian province, she came to Istanbul as a child along with her parents. Now she is a proud Adali, an Alevi member at that. I will learn later that there are five ethnic/religious groups on the islands: Greek Orthodox, Armenians, Jewish, Alevi muslims and sunni muslims. An Armenian woman, who will show me to her church will tell me that these ethnic groups are very friendly with each other to the extent that they all go to each other's houses of worship! Just like it used to be on all of Anatolia, before World War I.  

One of the temples on the island

We climb up the slopes of the hills, sampling from the wild strawberry bushes as part of our breakfast. Higher slopes are covered with very young pine trees, our new friend tells us "They burned our forests in 2003 to develop the island". Who is that "they"? She tells us they are current government supporters so that open land can be developed as they choose. Didn’t the same government plan to develop Gezi Park in the middle of Istanbul that led to month-long confrontations between the police and environmentalists with unforgiveable violence from the government forces against young unarmed yogis, musicians, doctors, workers among others? As we head down, we see a sign that reports the Administration of Forestry had planted several thousands of trees after the fire. I want to believe at least in this instance there might be no conspiracy between the government and their supporting neuvea rich. However, later on a Greek resident will tell me that the trees were planted just because the Greek community forced the Administration and paid for most of the trees through the Greek Orthodox community. Talk about "what you say and how you act should be the same" in Islamic faith...

On the way down to waterfront, east side of Burgaz

By the time, we are done with our big loop covering the eastern slopes of the island, we arrive at the waterfront. A few young people ask whether they can take pictures with us individually. They are high school students, camping over the weekend on the island. We don't quite understand what their goal is, but we are in. Finally, when we get back to the guest house, our friends are all up and awake, ready to enjoy the wild strawberries we saved for them to sample. Guler is both enjoying her breakfast and working on another painting. Her impressions of the ambiance and sections of the island are beautifully depicted on her paintings. I take at least pictures of her painting not daring to ask to keep or purchase one of them.

Burgaz through the brush of Guler

Time to head to the waterfront since our friends will head back to their lives in the city before noon. Before departure, though, we will gather at Ergun's cafe to try their specialty dessert. It is indeed delicious, which is baked daily, one must try it. Just as we are wrapping up, the group of youngsters come around again. This time, they would like us all in a picture. These are lovely, warm, sweet young men and women of the land, attending private or public-high quality high schools, clearly obtaining secular education, since they are very comfortable with each other in a positive, friendly, and trusting manner.

Wild strawberries growing all over the island's hills

The distance of distrust between the fundamentalist men and women that, to me, definitely disrupts the depth of communication between individuals is not there with this natural and “normal” kids.  We all join in. Just as we gather for a selfie to be taken by one of the kids, an island dog walks into our midst. As we chuckle, he turns around and poses with her bottom to the camera. What level of trust engrained even in the dogs of this island even toward strangers...

One of the bakeries downtown Burgaz island

After my friends leave, I am left with me, myself and I and the archipelago… I start with exploring the downtown of the island a bit. There isn't much, but there is no need for much, either. It is mostly about restaurants and cafes. There is a manav, from which I purchase a pomegranate, which will be my lunch after the hefty post-breakfast dessert as I start exploring the rest of the island. To my disappointment both churches and monasteries are closed. Apparently, the youth of the immigrants are not always friendly to these structures, although the islanders believe it may not necessarily be out of maliciousness, just out of ignorance and boiling blood of the youth.  

Greek Monastery downtown with a tall dome

I decide to go to Hristo Monastery, located at the highest point of the island. That is also locked up and the ranger, who is supposed to monitor the premises is not there. The gate is secured with a thin cable wrapped around the metal gate. A metal plate through the slats of the gate reads "Monastery is closed". I unwrap the cable, enter the yard, knock on the door of the ranger's house, no response, start wandering around. Everything is falling apart. How unfortunate, this structure could be renovated and the entire premise could be opened to visitation that would establish such wonderful cultural exchange. Current Turkish government unfortunately is all too busy, building bridges and roads through virgin lands, and buildings at the service of hefty wallets.

Hristo Monastery enjoying the best views of Marmara, the islands and Istanbul

As I walk around, I discover that there is a cemetery next to the yard of the monastery. Ancestors of today's Greek people, who lived in Istanbul as late as the beginning of the century are buried here. Some are buried in clusters in their family lot. No flowers, no trees, most graves, although ornate with headstones are covered with weeds and wild flowers. Low standing olive trees provide minimal shade. Cemeteries in Turkey for the muslims are traditionally very lush. The belief is that, the dead enjoys shade. As a result, as soon as somebody is buried, a tree or two is planted around the grave, which leads to all cemeteries become the most wooded areas in any town.

Greek cemetery at the summit of Burgaz

As I leave the yard of the monastery, I notice that the metal plate with "closed" scribbling in fact is the sign with full name of this monastery that was apparently hung on the wall of the entrance once upon a time until somehow one of the nail holes broke. What kind of education are these rangers provided if at all regarding the preservation of historical sites, I wonder. This sign tells me "None". I wonder if this family simply happened to be the relative or villager of some high-status bureaucrat that qualified them to get to this post, most likely they were.

Once the marker of the monastery now its back the sign to closure...

I find a spot that has full view of Heybeliada to the east of Burgaz. In the middle of the island, is a big concrete building. I will learn later on that it was the Naval Academy once upon a time, now left to the Naval Lyceum, which now has two campuses on Heybeliada. The other prominent structure is on the northern highest point of the island, which is the Greek theological school. This school periodically comes into political discourse in Turkey when Greek citizens one more time request it to open, which Turkish Ministry of Education has not allowed for decades now. I can't wait to go to Heybeliada to see it and hopefully learn more about its history.

Cats following a fisherman all the way to his house

When I finally come down after my late lunch with a delicious pomegranate, I recall where we had seen the man, who was followed with 30-40 cats two days ago and our morning hiker telling us that he was a fisherman: The cats were after him because of the fish smell on his clothes! I see a sign for Cemevi to the left, which is a gathering place for muslims of the Bektasi and/or Alevi sects. These sects follow a teaching very similar to sufism, open to all religions, genders, ethnicities without any discrimination. I walk along the path and see men and women sitting around tables at a cafe, some chatting, some playing cards. I have many Alevi friends that I treasure since their muslim identity is a cultural one rather than religious. Thus, they are all very secular, and most importantly, men and women are considered equal and treated as such in this sect. It is clear that these people are the same, no wonder they readily intermingle with their Greek, Armenian, and Jewish neighbors.

Sait Faik's home, now a museum...
  

In order to complete my tour of Burgaz, one last place to visit is the Sait Faik Museum: Sait Faik Abasiyanik is a landmark in Turkish literature in that he started story writing form in Turkey. He was born to a well-to-do family, who supported him in his education and explorations in Europe. After his father died, he spent his winters in Istanbul and summers at Burgaz living with his mother exploring his love life in the minorities of Istanbul and Adalar. In his writing he narrated the sea, the nature, the poor working people including fishermen with a humanistic approach. When he died, he donated his home at Burgaz to the High School for orphans (Darussafaka), which is one of the top high schools in Turkey on condition that it would be turned into a museum, maintained and kept open to public at no cost.   

Kafka and Hemingway on Sait Faik's desk

Darussafaka indeed did a very good job with Sait Faik's instructions. The home is beautifully maintained inside and out with lots of paraphernalia from Sait Faik's life. The sweetest was that he had Turkish translations of "Old Man and the Sea", "For Whom Are the Bells Tolling?" from Ernest Hemingway and Metapmorphosis from Franz Kafka. I purchase several of his books that I had not read. I will devour his poetry book "Now is the time to make love" in one breath.  

It would be lovely to find a cafe at this elevation but perhaps better to keep the islands as wild as they are...

I choose a table right by the water at Yasemin restaurant. There is a young fisherman tying up his boat for the day. we start chatting and he tells me all about the Spoon island right across Burgaz, which is a "no public access" zone for the people of Turkey, since it is being rented by an entrepreneur for his personal use, guarded by bodyguards all around the island! Talk about Turkey becoming "Little America"... Yes indeed... Ending the day with a light dinner is so soothing. The ripples on the water generate a soft melody as they touch the stone wall of the promenade that I am on. Seagulls are still active at dusk adding to this mild symphony. The clouds are fading from pink to gray as the sun disappears behind the Hristo Monastery. My day was very well spent filling me with lots of good things, some disappointment but still with lots of hope...

Wilderness at a glance around Burgaz...

First snow storm of the year - Iowa City 2015

How would it feel to be in the middle of a snow storm? As I walk up the slope to my car this afternoon one step after the other through 2-3 inches of snow already on the ground, - this question started growing in my mind. With some difficulty, I found my way home under heavy snow fall. Next thing I know, I was snapping my buttons all the way down to my ankles looking out at the curtain of snow that was falling peacefully, unaware of her power, her beauty....

Sidewalks difficult to discern and daylight getting less and less, no help. My feet took charge, trusting them, I was just enjoying what was unfolding before my eyes, touching all my senses, what a silent audio-visual feast... A very rare car here and there, even less human beings, only two in an hour to be exact... All the better, I want to be alone with trees, brushes, birds if I am lucky and the snow, I need nothing else... My eyes are fixed on the crystals of snow flakes on the ground for a long time. With ever dissapearing scarce light reflecting on the snow from street lights, they shimmer in all directions. My feet gliding through the snow create a spray of the beautful powder rising an inch above my feet before the sparkling flakes land back on the ground. Sometimes, I have to find my way and stay on the sidewalk by following the posts, mailboxes or fire hydrants, sometimes I follow the foot steps of earlier fellow hikers: some foot steps are huge burying my feet up to my ankles, some are more managable, some are barely visible alrady covered with an inch of snow since the imprints were laid over the earlier layer.

I finally find myself at the entrance of my neighborhood park, Hickory Hill. I hesitate for a second, it is dark dark now, could I pass through the park at this time of the night, could there be any risk? It looks so peaceful and inviting, I dare taking my first step into the park. Somehow, the park is lit much better than the roads. I turn around looking for the origin of the pinkish hue on the snow, where is the light coming from? Nowhere, the sky carries a very light hue of the same perhaps emitted from the city in the distance, the snow has simply accentuated it, unbelievable... I walk on, following a curious trail, perhaps the trails of a cross country skier, what else could have left two paralel lines a foot apart? The only disturbance in the middle of this world of peace is the sound of my foot steps and the crunch crunch the powdery white stuff is singing under my feet. Such beautiful music. Snow is still falling; landing gently on my eye lashes, on my cheeks, sometimes on my lips with a cool, sweet sensation. I taste the snow, take it in, refreshing. I think of our mindfulness class when we had eaten a raisin over several minutes...

I am finally out of the park's opposite end back into civilization. I follow bike trails on the side walk this time. A few cars on this main road are having quite a difficult time in climbing up the hill. It is refreshing to pass multiple cars as they are struggling with the nature. I sail by... When I am back to my neighborhood, my foot prints are covered with more than an inch of snow already, undisturbed otherwise. There is a beautiful softness, mildness, and tenderness to the way they have been preserved. My neighbors are all tucked into their warm homes. I wish them well. I can't help thinking of those, who may not have the same warmth in their homes, in their hearts, I wish them well, too. I hope, the beauty of this snow may warm more hearts than one could expect, knowing too well, that appreciating snow has a lot to do with "haves and have nots". I hope, this beauty doesn't hurt anyone in Iowa City tonight and throughout this winter..

ISTANBUL Prince Islands OCTOBER 2014 -3- TURKISH WOMEN BRINGING THE JOY OF HIGH SCHOOL YEARS TO ADALAR...

When I return to my room and take a shower, dizzied with the amount of oxygen and relaxation, I drift into a peaceful, delicious sleep that I desperately need due to two nights of little sleep. When I get up all the women have returned from their visit to Sait Faik Abasiyanik's house, which has been a museum for over 50 years. SFA is the writer, who started story-writing tradition in Turkish literature. Since I will stay on the island for two more days, I will visit it later.

The wonderful group of women I vacationed with..

I am fully refreshed with my power nap and Aytul and I head down to the waterfront, where we will have dinner tonight. The group has chosen Antigoni restaurant, named after the daughter/wife of Alexander the Great, who ruled the islands in the distant past. We stroll through the neighborhoods first, all of which almost run down to the waterfront via steep slopes. Some of the homes are huge big mansions either inherited from generation to generation since the Ottoman times or purchased by the richest neuvea rich, to be used as single family homes.

This mansion houses a coupel that rarely comes to Adalar...

Some of these homes have 15-20 rooms occupied by a couple and part of the year at that. What a waste and arrogance: I heard for instance that one of the  mansions on the way to the Teacher's guest house belongs to the owner of the NTV a new TV station in Turkey. Other mansions have been turned into apartments and used as family apartment buildings, several siblings and cousins sharing the building after inheriting it from the family; that is more tolerable per my ethics... Others were built as modern apartment buildings from the outset perhaps during the middle of the last century. These dwellings are the ones that middle to upper middle class Istanbulites can afford to buy or rent. Even apartment buildings' entrances are adorned with a variety of climbing vines of jasmine, honey suckle, lilies among others that make the neighborhoods a large garden of flowering plants.

Sidewalks turned into gardens, European style...

There is an elementary school on the island, two vegetable stores (manav), two convenience stores (bakkal), one butcher, fire squadron, offices of forestry administration, and three piers, one for the city boats, one for the seabuses, and the last is for the private boats and a small square for the horse carriages since motor vehicles are not allowed on the island unless they get a permission from the Adalar Municipality to carry materials for renovation purposes. Thus, the elderly on this island either walks very competently up the steep slopes or take the horse carriages. The young enjoy biking as well, and there is a bike rental store along the water, too, of course. The bulk of economy on the island is the restaurants, cafes, patisseries, and coffee shops, in short eateries. All of Istanbul, especially the Asian bank residents perceive Adalar as a to go place even for a brief dinner or a full night out, even in the winter as long as the boats are running since the winds from the south (Lodos) or north (Poyraz) may cut off the connection between the Adalar and Istanbul for brief periods of time in the winter time.

Another mansion divided into multiple apartments...

The eateries on the waterfront have discovered a very convenient way of allowing the customers be warm inside their store but also enjoy everything of the outside by zipping up transparent plastic walls around their store! Ingenious invention in this land, the peoples of which are all desperately in love with enjoying everything about life while being outdoors... Once the wind and rain take over the islands in two days, I will also enjoy this at Ergun's cafe where I will meet a lot of Greek and Turkish locals over breakfast and dinner.

A boat is hanging down the ceiling of Antigoni restaurant

We finally make our way to Antigoni restaurant. They have prepared an L-shaped table for us 24 women. As we flood the restaurant with the vivacious high school spirit that have taken over us all, the servers are a bit dumb-founded not knowing what to make of this 50-60 year-older women. They are all well dressed with elegant but humble make-up and hair-do (except I with my casual strolling attire), they do look like professionals, but their mood is elated to such an extent, one might perceive them as tipsy without any alcohol.

Bottle of national Turkish alcoholic beverage, raki turned into a lamp at Antigoni...

Our servers don't know yet, that this group and any other group from any special high school like theirs and mine go into this tipsy-out-of-bliss by going back to their wonderful high school years. This freedom of being 16-18 again and acting and feeling like we did back then every time we get together is an exceptional treasure we carry with us. As our food is served very slowly, we savor not only the food, but also each other's company with heart-felt conversation over our individual memories and their shared memories. I feel I become more and more part of the group as the hours go by. Ozden is the musical star of the group, leading us all in our singing. But I must say, the group has many musical stars, although they leave the leadership to Ozden. Our songs follow the line of songs played by the restaurant, perhaps from an online repertoire.



One of the authentic old island homes with no pretence...

All of a sudden a violinist appears out of the blue. The restaurant music stops, violin kicks in, and Ozden and the violinist truly lead this phenomenal women's choir. I am ecstatic to be able to sing such songs from the Ottoman era that I had not heard nor sung for several decades. We are all in our teens and early 20s in our shared ecstasy. Soon, our singing is coupled with group dancing. As the time goes by, it is not only us, who are euphoric to this extent that has nothing to do with alcohol, there is very little of it in fact, but our servers and the violinist also are ecstatic with enjoyment.   


With its mansions, apartment buildings, and humble homes, Burgazada...


Ozden drags our elderly chief server, who clearly seems to be a traditional man into our line dancing, to which he doesn't resist! Our violinist is cracking up to what is unfolding before his eyes, most likely he hasn't seen before... I sense, this is going to be some story the Adalar servers will keep telling for some time with statements such as "Do you remember those women, who had come from all over the country and had had a blast of time at Antigoni? There were professors and engineers, and attorneys among them you know. They were quite something!" Indeed, this wonderful group of women is quite something in this stretch of time from 7:30 to past midnight, having the most genuine and humble fun spreading their happiness to all that were around. I will never forget a couple that was sitting on the outside patio, who moved to an inside table to be closer to us to such an extent, when it came to telling high school stories, the gentleman hollered to the story-teller "Louder please, I can't hear!"



One of the horse carriages, the mainstay fo transportaion on the islands..

This is what I like about Turkish culture, what is beautiful is embraced by all right-minded people and permitted to exist whether one agrees with and/or understands what it entails. Inquisitive and tolerant minds allow themselves to learn and understand others and others' experiences without drawing sharp boundaries around themselves and others. Once knowledge and understanding prevail, boundaries become unnecessary and the beauty is then shared by all around it. Tonight is testimony to this very humane experience. I for one, will remember our servers, the couple, who desired to join our group and the violinist as unforgettable members of our camaraderie from tonight. 

Delighful gathering with this wonderful group of women