Life is grueling in a Turkish farm village
By Gary Graham | September 22, 2008 | Turkey
We've been busy here in Turkey. Since I last wrote, we've finished our meetings and brief sightseeing in Ankara, visited the considerably less prosperous city of Diyarbakir in the southeastern part of the country, and returned to the Armada, our home base hotel in Istanbul. It's been an agenda-filled seven days.
Diyarbakir will never be confused with a tourist trap. The city was established in 2300 BC and has a current-day population of 1.4 million. But the annual income here is estimated at $1,313 per person, a reflection of the region's economic hardships. It's population is mostly Kurdish, an ethnic group that has long been ignored, mistreated and isolated. The city is grittier, the streets are rougher and the neighborhoods look much more distressed than any we've seen in Ankara or Istanbul. We encountered our first beggars here.
Our group of journalists, traveling here under sponsorship of the International Reporting Project at the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies, was taken by bus Sunday to the remote village of Yatir. Life in this farming village of about 100 families is grueling. They have electricity, but the power has been out for more than two months because they can't afford to pay their bill to light their mud and stone houses. A special irrigation project that brings in water from a tributary of the Tigris River is the sole sign of progress.
We encountered a tractor pulling a wagon of women at midday. Even though the sun was beating down and the air was lifeless, the majority of the 10 women wore clothes and scarves covering most of their bodies, customary for many Muslims in rural areas. They had been picking cotton since 6 a.m., work that will continue until the harvest ends in early November. The hardest workers can make up to $12 a day, but many receive about $6, based on the amount of cotton they pick.
The Diyarbakir region is home to the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK) guerrillas. The PKK live in mobile camps that dot the nearby mountains. Yatir residents told us that the PKK was responsible for the burning of buildings and vehicles not far from them. The government won't assign public school teachers to the village because of the PKK's presence.
Saturday, at a free health clinic in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Diyarbakir, we met Hamide, a Kurdish woman in her 40s. Hamide, speaking through an interpreter, was struggling with a stomach ailment. She and her two sons migrated to Diyarbakir 15 years ago after government soldiers burned their village during the fierce fighting with PKK guerrillas in the 1990s. Her husband died shortly after the village was destroyed. The migration of villagers to the urban centers across Turkey since the 1990s has had a profound effect on the country. The population shift is similar to the effects of the rural to urban move in America.
Hamide's oldest, an 18-year-old, is attending university in Diyarbakir. Hamide does not work and lives in housing provided by friends. When I asked her what would make her life better, she replied with a simple answer: “A home.” Women like Hamide most often end up living with relatives when they can't support themselves.
Grinding unemployment or under employment is a major issue in Diyarbakir. More than 8 percent of families living there essentially have no income. Another 15 percent live on $200 to $320 per month. The unemployment rate among women is 90 percent.
A Sunday morning visit to the Baglar Women's Cooperative provided us a look at the many issues facing women, including extremely high illiteracy rates, lack of job skills and training, domestic violence and honour killings.
Our group returned to Istanbul on Sunday evening after a 90-minute flight from Diyarbakir. Monday was our first “free day,” so many of us took in the sights and the Grand Bazaar, a shopping venue like none other. After my shopping, I made my first-ever visit to a mosque. The Sultan Ahmet Mosque, more commonly known as the Blue Mosque, was built from 1609 to 1616. It may be the most striking manmade structure that I've ever seen.
On Tuesday, we're meeting with students at Sabanci University. We're told seating is limited and that there's been quite a competition among students eager to attend. Here's hoping we don't let them down.
Observations and anecdotes from my travels in Turkey thus far:
-- The food is excellent. The typical breakfast consists of tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, cheese, bread and yogurt.
-- Riding in taxis and tour buses is an adventure. There are more than 2,000 traffic fatalities in Turkey each month, mostly because of poor roads and bad signage.
-- Turks like their tea. We've been served tea and small pastries at nearly every meeting or briefing.
-- I could be a Turk. My dark hair, eyes and mustache apparently leads many to think I'm Turkish and Muslim. A businessman approached me today and tried to ask for directions. Even one of our intepreters asked me on Sunday: “Are you Muslim?” And all this time I thought
I was of Scotch descent.
-- We don't drink the tap water. The water is chlorinated, but tourists are advised to buy bottled water.\"
-- A too-eager rug salesman at the Bazaar sensed my discomfort with his approach as he walked beside me. \"Don't worry, I'm not a terrorist. I won't hurt you,\" he said. I assured him that I knew he meant no harm to me.
-- Ate dinner tonight at the Telve Cafe and Restaurant, which calls itself a Turkish Ravioli House. The ravioli was supposed to be filled with minced lamb, but I didn't detect any. The pasta was covered with yogurt and a stream of chili sauce. It was better than it sounds.
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