“Infidel Quarter” by Mıgırdiç Margosyan is a biography of his and Armenian life in Diyarbakır in the middle of the last century. He recalls in one part, the call to prayer and the church bells ringing out one following the other across Diyarbakır.
The hit Turkish TV drama The Club echoes such sentiments, when religions and cultures lived side by side in İstanbul in the 1950s.
I have lived in areas of Turkey which contain multi-cultural histories. In the Aegean coast, an old Greek church kept in immaculate condition and another still intact, but full of a wealthy businessman’s toy cars. And where I live now, further north, an old Greek church is kept in impeccable and respectful condition by the village chief. This is of course not always the case here, or for that matter, other countries where diversity is being snuffed out.
And yet these historical voices still echo here.
One section of Çanakkale (where I used to live) has a distinctive different feeling from other parts. The Jewish area, now long since emptied of its inhabitants, the famous “Mirrored Bazar” was built by a local Jewish business man. The Greek Church is now a cultural centre.
Life changes and not always for the best.
Like dots on a map, people and communities are uprooted and dispersed, never to be seen again.
Shush…
There is an undercurrent that can drag you down
So most just go with the flow
Not disturbing the gentle waves of the day
If you do, quickly fingers will come to people’s mouths
Shush… Shush…
As if the truth will hurt them
Or fear or deference
Other times a man will blast obscenities
Turning the dolmuş (bus) blue
Other times the shout will have no form
But end with blasphemy to the one
Shush… Shush… Shush…
But most talk in riddles
Soaking up the blandest of TV series
Snacking on the cheapest cheese
Nulling the pain
Deflecting that bullet
saying things are not the way they should be
WORLD SHUT YOUR MOUTH
There seems to be a pandemic of stupidity, cruelty, inhumanity across the globe. Never in my life time have so few world leaders destroyed so much.
Endlessly I hear bombs or people shouting as they are whisked off to jail. Lawyers hanging around courts to see what trumped up crime their client is charged with, wives trying to silence their tears. And yet you love it, and put them in power, if they are full of hate, the more the merrier -Viva Hate-. The very best they can offer is used car room salesmen. Starmer, Macron, Carney. I only have to see my mini statue of Atatürk or photo of Martin Luther King or think of the post WW2 British Labour government to know kindness and compassion are not dirty words. But for now, the news is designed to frighten you as the singer Morrissey states, urging us to stop watching the news.
But who would be left when I switch it back on again?
Ear down to the ground
I arrived on these shores shaking but released; leaving the pains of England behind me.*
The place was cheery and full character. Few if any, especially local tourists, appeared to not have a second thought about expenses everything was in reach, especially the basics.
Fruit and veg at the bazaar were 3-5-7 lira and occasionally reached the heady hights of 10 lira a kilo. Bars, coffee houses, restaurants were full and affordable.
Fast forward 2 years later...
In the supermarket the price labels are changing by the hour, as food prices spiralled out of control. An old woman’s face I saw gazed at the food shelves with horror, leaving with nothing. People going to the bazaar to buy single items of fruit and veg.
Everything and everyone were in the line of fire. Our rent increased by 400%, we scoured the land to afford to live.
One landlord gloated to us, with a beaming smile, how business was shining on him.
Slowly but surely the country started to burn. Families burnt utility bills in protest and sunk into debt. Everywhere I looked I saw sadness and desperation in people’s eyes. People screamed for help to anyone who would listen and whispers of disenchantment were rising to the top.
(I am, as ever, just reporting on what I heard back then. The reasons for this are for others to explain.)
Today I still hear mutterings but things have started to settle somewhat.
Though as my friend from back home recently booked a holiday for 10 nights in Antalya, at a “normal “price, eating and drinking to his hearts content. There will be those serving him and those sitting at home for whom a similar holiday is now out of reach.
The elderly on summer park benches, listening to the sound of their own voices.
*My life in Turkey and prior in my book Türkiye’de Bir İngiliz (An Englishman in Turkey). (DM/VK)
