Volkan Akkurt

Hi Everyone,

Flying into the largest Kurdish city in south eastern Turkey, Diyarbakir, was like flying into Libya. The airport was a mass of camouflaged bunkers and

fighter jets set in a never ending desert. We were greeted by Volkan's friend Nizam who drove us to his home. My first reaction to the city was that it was

very poor and very religious. Many of the streets were unpaved and dirty. The womens' heads were covered and there were mosques everywhere. All this was in

deep contrast to the Turkish coastal town that we had just left. There couples strolled hand in hand along narrow cobblestone streets, past waterfront cafes

in beautifully preserved old stone houses. Somehow in one hour we had traveled from Cinema Paradiso to Black Hawk Down.

In the following days we found the more central part of the city to actually be quite nice and clean without losing any of the exotic allure of the Middle

East. There were lots of busy little shops selling everything from baklava to jewelry and a huge old hotel from the days of the Silk Road. Caravans would

stop there to resupply and there was enough room inside to park 800 camels. It is now filled with cafes where you can play backgammon and have a cup of tea.

Nizam and his beautiful wife Arzu, live in one of the many new high rises on the outskirts of Diyarbakir. I was shocked at how beautifully decorated and big

their apartment was. It wouldn't have been at all out of place in Hollywood. Way too big and new for Manhattan! As is the norm in this region, they were

terrific hosts to us, showing us around the city, taking us on day trips and spoiling us rotten for a week. Even though my communication with them was

limited. I really grew to love them.

Nizam is a lawyer, Arzu is an art teacher and extremely talented artist. After having met in Istanbul they had returned to live in their home town of

Diyarbakir. Both are Kurdish and have a great social circle there. They took us to their rotary club meeting in the beautiful home of a local cardiologist. A

delicious homemade dinner of Turkish food was served buffet style. All the rotary club members were well traveled Kurdish professional men and women who

choose to live in south eastern Turkey. This evening and many others included singing and playing the saz. The hot topic of the night was whether Obama

should have been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. They were split.

Another night Nizam and Arzu had a large group of friends over. This group gets together every two weeks and they felt that their conversations were not

stimulating enough, so they initiated a system where at each time one of them would give a 20 minute speech on the topic of their choice. This week it was

Arzu's turn. She spoke about progressive village schools that had been closed in the 50's because of perceived Communist tendencies. These parties were fun

and lively but I noticed that the women did most of the work and were constantly running to the kitchen to refill everyone's miniscule teacups. There has got

to be a more efficient way to serve tea! I was very happy that one of the guests spoke good English and gave us interesting insights into his life. He and

his wife graciously invited us over to their lovely home on another evening.

On our third day Volkan and I took a bus to Mazidagi (pronounced Mazda), the small Kurdish town that he had lived in, in the 80's. His father, an army

officer, was stationed there, as the military leader of the town. Their house was inside a small base in the town center, guarded by soldiers. Volkan and his

sister went to the local middle school and mingled easily with the other kids.

I was shocked at how undeveloped the town was. I had expected it to be small and traditional, but I had also expected it to have its charms. It did not. It

was squalid and dusty. Though I was relieved to see no open sewers, no starving children or beggars. In fact all the boys and most of the men were wearing

dark suits and ties, which is the required school and business uniform. Quite a weird juxtaposition with the dust and rubble.

Volkan reminisced fondly as we walked around the town. We sat outside his old school to watch the kids and take some pictures. A teacher invited us in. He

told us that the whole town was wondering who we were and what we were up to. Apparently taking photos of schools (and all other government buildings) is

illegal and we were about to be arrested. There was some suspicion that we were organ harvesters there to kidnap children (rumored to have happened in

another town, a thousand miles away.)

We chatted with the teachers then went off to find Volkan's family friend. We found Abdullah and his extended family in his grape vineyard surrounded by

mountains. It was an idyllic scene, the women dressed in traditional clothes sitting under a tree, peeling grape paste off sheets. This is the harvest

season. They step on the grapes and then boil the juice to make a paste that they dry on sheets and then peel it off and make desserts for their own

consumption, none of them remotely tasting like grape.

We were greeted as long lost friends and immediately installed as guests in their home for the night. Abdullah's wife was partially paralyzed by a stroke. So

we helped him and his wife's young helper cook up a traditional meal. We ate sitting on the floor Kurdish style, while he lovingly cajoled his wife to eat.

His wife's helper was a fifteen year old girl from the town who could not read or write, but had a cell phone. She said she had one brother and the rest of

her many brothers and sisters had died, presumably as babies. Being that education is free and mandatory I could not understand how her parents had not sent

her to school. Though we did hear that the education in the area is nothing to brag about. Teachers from western Turkey are required to serve time in eastern

schools. But as soon as they are able to finagle a transfer, they leave, often in the middle of the term. The English teacher that we met, could not speak a

single sentence of English.

I had been a little nervous to go to south eastern Turkey, especially this small town. Being that the Kurds are seeking autonomy from the Turks they

naturally dislike the Turkish military, especially because they are often stopped and ID'd and arrests are common. It would be immediately apparent to

everyone that Volkan was Turkish and word would spread that he was associated with the military. But once we told people who we were, they treated us like

long lost family. This was Volkan's first trip back after eighteen years and we hadn't called ahead. His old family friends bickered over who would host us.

It surprised me because Volkan was the son of the former head of the "occupying" government. I just assumed there would be some lingering resentment.

Watching Volkan effortlessly mingle with everyone from the town dignitaries to the ten year old sheppard, made me wonder where his natural diplomacy came

from. When I asked Volkan about it, he told me that his father had dedicated himself to befriending the local community and had made a genuine effort to be

nice to everyone. The locals had been charmed and the family had made life long friends.

Volkan translated the stories of the people we were meeting. So many of them were tragic.

A vibrant woman with beautiful green eyes, told us that she had been in love. Her parents wanted her to marry someone else. Her secret boyfriend insisted

that he would interrupt her wedding and marry her himself. She begged him not to. As he drove to her wedding (drunk) he was killed in a car accident. Now she

is married to a man she doesn't like. She and her sister both complained of feeling stifled in this small town, where every move one makes is monitored by

the neighbors. They complained of not even being able to take a long walk because people would assume that a woman out walking is out looking for men. Both

of these women were smart and full of life. We wondered what sort of lives they would lead if they lived elsewhere.

Abdullah's family had quite a tale. One son had been run over by a truck and killed as a toddler. Another son had died as a guerilla fighting the Turkish

army in the surrounding mountains. Another son had shamed the family by taking a second wife (illegally.) Now the first wife's entire extended family (a

large segment of this small town) will not speak to Abdullah. To make matters worse his wife had a stroke and then the family had lost all of their money on

a failed business. At one point they had been quite wealthy. They had owned the only gas station for miles. Now another son is in Siberia working at an oil

field for two years to try and recoup some of their losses. To make some money Abdullah had recently bid on a contract to supply boots to the US army in

Iraq. He had bid $15 per pair. The order was ultimately filled by an American company for $50 per pair. Halliburton no doubt. Abdullah has another son who

lives in Tennessee and a daughter living in Istanbul married to a judge.

And the biggest tragedy of all was one you probably heard about on the news. Half a year ago a family feud got out of hand and one side of the family killed

43 members (including women and children) of the other side at a wedding. Everyone in town believes the feud was about big money. One even speculated that

the family had been siphoning oil off the pipeline from Iraq. The killing side of the family, now on trial, is being housed in apartments outside the town,

guarded by the Turkish military to avoid reprisals. If there was anyone with big money in this town, I sure as hell couldn't imagine why they stayed.

We suggested to Volkan's old friend, the local math teacher, that it would be nice to have tea together in the evening. We were very surprised when he drove

us out of the town to a gas station in the middle of nowhere, where it was cold, dark and deserted, but tea was served. Apparently there was no cafe in town

where it would be appropriate for a woman to enter. This is just one of the many ways that we found life in this small town incredibly suffocating.

All this reinforced the saying that we learned in Colombia. Small town...big hell.(Which means big town....small hell or New York...no hell at all)

While enjoying all the hospitality we were hoping to learn something about the "Kurdish issue." We picked up a few bits and pieces. We were introduced to a

little old lady dressed in black who was introduced to us as the "local head of the PKK," not what I expected the leader of a guerilla movement to look like.

The PKK are fighting for Kurdish autonomy. Many young people from this village have joined the PKK and have been killed in battle. Abdullah's son was one of

them. He blames his wife's stroke on the loss of this child.

On our return to Diyarbakir, the big city, we were told there had been riots and protests that day and everything would be closed. One of the women at the

rotary club, a pharmacy owner, told us that she was caught in the middle. When the Kurds protest all the stores are expected to close. One year the PKK

called to ask why she had not closed. They warned her that they would burn her store down if she did not close next time. The next time there were protests,

she closed. Neighboring stores that had not closed were burned down. Then she got a call from the Turkish military to say next time she closed her store

during a protest she would lose her license. Now during protests she keeps her store open, but pulls down the security gate so it looks mostly closed.

Nizam, the Kurdish lawyer that we were staying with, told us that most Turkish Kurds do not want to separate from Turkey or go to live in a Kurdish state in

Iraq. The main reason he gave was that they all have a lot of family and friends living throughout Turkey. They only want some autonomy to enjoy their

culture. They would like to be able teach Kurdish as a second language in school and to be able to pray in Kurdish. There were a few other seemingly

innocuous things that they wanted. Apparently the situation has already improved a lot. Just recently a very popular Kurdish language TV channel was created

by the government. The current government does seem to want to make peace. They certainly have a vested interest in it considering the pressure they get from

the EU and the cost of maintaining the enormous military complex in eastern Turkey. All men in Turkey have to serve in the army and it is one of the biggest

in the world. It's mind blowing. There are bases everywhere. From what we were told it seems that it is the military who has traditionally been intransigent

on the Kurdish issue. The military budget, and therefore power, will certainly be drastically curtailed if the situation improves. There is also the issue of

whether the more radical elements within the PKK will be willing to give up the idea of a separate Kurdish state.

There was an incident recently that illustrates the emotions involved on both sides. The government amnestied non violent PKK members who had fled Turkey,

fearing imprisonment. A large group of them recently returned from Iraq. The Kurds in Diyarbakir gave them a victory parade. Those parades were shown on TV

and have enraged the Turks who feel that the returnees should have come back in a more respectful and somber manner befitting the current atmosphere of

reconciliation. In retaliation, counter rallies have been organized where indignant former Turkish soldiers furiously throw their artificial limbs on the

ground to show the losses that they have sustained during this drawn out insurgency. As you can imagine all this gets lots of TV exposure further fueling the

flames.

It is going to take a skilled statesman to navigate the country towards peace with all these emotional landmines. Erdogan the current Prime Minister is also

making overtures to the Armenians as well as the Cypriots, Syrians and Iranians. All the while vehemently attacking Israel.

We are now spending three weeks with Volkan's parents and his lovely, bubbly sister. His parents have retired to a German tourist enclave by the beach in

Antalya, Turkey. They have treated us like royalty, cooking us delicious meals and patiently chaperoning us on all our doctor visits. We are getting all our

check ups.

Here is a list of unusual Turkish habits and anecdotes that Volkan and I have put together:

Turks think that going barefoot will make them sick. They remove their outdoor shoes at the front entrance of homes and put on slippers. In the bathroom they

wear different slippers and on their balcony a different pair. Guests are expected to do the same and are provided slippers for all these areas.

The part I find weird is that none of the slippers are warm, they are just glorified flip flops.

Yogurt is to Turks as ketchup is to Americans. Like ketchup, yogurt comes with many rules. It is only to be eaten with food cooked in olive oil, like a

vegetarian stuffed pepper. But once you add an ounce of meat to that stuffed pepper it is not to be cooked with olive oil and therefore, cannot be eaten with

yogurt. It is always a mystery to us whether food is eligible for yogurt. In my opinion all Turkish food cries out to be combined with yogurt.

How you sit conveys respect in Turkey. It is not polite to cross your legs.

Turks are inordinately concerned about what others think of them and religiously follow social norms. Fitting in here means conforming. Luckily for me

foreigners get a Get out of Jail Free Card. Volkan's poor parents have learned to put up with a lot. They have watched in dismay as we have "spoiled" many a

dish with a heaping dollop of yogurt, while we sit at the table barefoot, with our legs crossed.

When you enter someone's home and sit down to chat they immediately turn on the TV and it constantly blares in the background as you try and talk.

Each time Volkan stands up his parents ask him "What happened?" The answer is usually "I am going to the bathroom."

People who are going to Mecca on Haj have first dibs on the swine flu vaccine.

Many Turks fear eating foods cooked by people outside of the women in their immediate family. This has something to do with not trusting other peoples'

cleanliness.

We spent a glorious week by the sea with our great friends Unver and Hulya and their adorable two year old, Zeynep. They taught me the expression 'stuffed

zucchini' which is what Turks call babys' fat little arms and legs. A perfect analogy in my opinion. Watching Hulya run after Zeynep, cook us three amazing

meals a day, keep her house sparkling clean and still find time to take us on long walks brought home to me the very high standards that Turkish women hold

themselves to...and all this was on her vacation from work.

As I have said before, hospitality in Turkey is second to none. While at that cute coastal town we had ducked into an old stone house that was now a hotel

and had asked to look around. The owner said that they hadn't opened yet, but offered to give us a tour. When we were in the kitchen Volkan said "it smells

really good." After that they refused to let us leave without staying for dinner with their family. A few days later we bumped into them again. When they

heard how we had struggled to start our BBQ to make fish, they insisted that we come over again. This time for a fish dinner. İ was amazed at how elaborate

the meals were considering they were not expecting guests.

In the same coastal town Volkan went to find his old teacher from elementary school who now works in a pharmacy. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. She said

he was her best student. Volkan remembers how she ruled the kids even after school. They used to play in the shadows until 5pm when she would go home. There

would be trouble if she saw them outside, not doing their homework.

Believe it or not the ban on smoking in public places has actually been enforced in Turkey. Even the age old practice of smoking water pipes (nargila) can

now only be done outside.

Well everyone that is all our news.

http://www.boutiquesmallhotels.com/bulbulyuvasi

Sali aksami bir evsizler evinde gonullu olarak calistim. Bina aslinda bir sinagog, gunduzleri ikinci katini cocuk yuvasi olarak kullaniyorlar. Aksamlari de 10 tane evsizin ayni odada kaldigi bir yurt gibi birsey oluyor. Benim saatlerim aksam 8:30’dan sabah 6:00’a kadardi.

Evsizlerin 2 tanesi beyaz, bir tanesi Latino, geri kalani zenciydi. Once onlarla oturdum, yapilacak/yapilmasi gerek seyleri konustuk biraz. Bazilari orada birkac aydir kaldigi icin ne zaman ne yapilmasini biliyor. Beraber yemek yedik (cereal ve sut), onlar da mikrodalgada isitilan hazir yemeklerden yediler. Hersey onlara bedava. Yatak, yemek, dus vs Sinagog karsiliyor.

Bir tanesinin laptop’u vardi, cep telefonu ve ipod zaten normal gibi. Bu sadece Amerika’da olur!

Saat 10 gibi isiklari sondurmem lazimdi, uyusunlar diye. Ama bir tanesi film getirmis, “Iron Man” diye. Abuk sabuk bir film. Oturup onu izledik yatak odasinda (zaten yatak odasi, mutfak, TV odasi hepsi ayni yer). Bazilari uyuyordu, horluyordu, bazilari bulmaca cozuyordu, bazilari muhabbet ediyordu, bazilari da film izledi. Baktim kimsenin sikayet ettigi yok, saat 11’e kadar filmi izledik ve bitirdik fimi. Sonra onlar yattilar.

Kendi aralarinda hic tartismadilar, bana karsi da cok iyilerdi. Ben de zaten “onu yapma, bunu yapma” demedim. Bazi seylere karismam lazimdi, ama “Offff, adazlar zaten zor hayat yasiyorlar, illa ki her kurala uymalarina gerek yok” diye dusundum. Oyle olunca da beni sevdiler.

Bir tanesi, digerleri yattiktan sonra, bir koseye cekildi, bulmaca cozuyordu. Onun yanina gittim. Bana suclu suclu bakarak ‘Hemen yatacagim, kusura bakma” dedi. Ben de “Onemli degil, benim icin sorun degil” dedim. Sonra gece saat 12:30’a kadar muhabbet ettik. Hayatini anlatti.

Buradaki adamlari hepsi “Tek Kisilik Oda” plani ile devletin odemelere yardim ettigi odalari kiralamak icin sirada bekliyorlar. Bu bekleme 2-5 yil alabiliyor. O surede sokaklarda, ya da bu sinagog gibi yerlerde gecici kaliyorlar. O tek kisilik odalara ayda $250 veriyorlar. Geri kalan $2000 ini belediye oduyor. Boylece evsizlerin Manhattan’da kendilerine ait apartmanlari olmus oluyor. Guzel plan. Tabi biz Manhattan’a “pahali” oldugu icin gidemiyoruz. Ama onlar gidiyor. Olsun varsin.

Bulmaca-adam yillarca evsiz yasamis, NY’da. Central Park’da yattigi gunleri anlatti. Uzerine yattigi beton yerleri kiyasladi, nerenin betonunun daha iyi oldugunu anlatti. Betondan betona fark varmis. Bir keresinde yagmurlu bir gece saat 3 gibi uyanmis, etrafini su basmis, hem sagindan, hem solundan su irmak gibi akiyormus. Battaniyeleri islanmis. Sehirdeki diger baska evsizleri biliyor, onlari anlatti; “Bu adam 20 yildir sokakda, su kadin ilk baslarda cok guzeldi, ama su an yuzu cok yaslandi vs.”

Sinagog’dan cok memnun, ozellike sokakda yatmayla kiyaslayinca. Sinagog yasaminda degistirmek istedigin ne var diye sordum. Dusundu, dusundu, herseyden cok memnunum dedi en sonunda. Erken kalkmak zor olmuyor mi dedim. Sorun degil dedi. Tek istedigi sey camasir yikayacak bir yeri olmasi. Bir de bazilari cok horluyor, onun cozumu de kulaklarina pecete dolduruyor.

Bir sonraki sabah 5:30’da bir kisi haric hepsi kalkmisdi. Yatklarini vs. hepsi kendisi topladi, sessiz, sakin., itisme kakisma yoktu. Cok medeni adamlar, ciddi ciddi surpriz oldum biraz.

Sonra hala uyuyan adami kaldirdim. Hic acelesi yoktu. Bana verilen gorevlerden biris bu adamlarin hepsini sinagog’dan 6’da disariya cikarmakti. Hepsi gitti, ama o yavas adam acele etmedi. Ben de zaten acele ettirmedim, muhabbet ettik o yatagini yaparken, pantalonunu giyinirken. Ne yapacaksin bugun dedim. Dedigi “Ilk once Starbuck’s gidecegim, saat 9’a kadar oradayim. Sonra 9’da kiliseye gidecegim. Orada pinpon, bilardo, TV ile oglen 3’e kadar zaman gecirecegim. Belki biraz sandalye uzerinde uyurum. Oglen yemegini orada yiyecegim. Sonra da yarin aksam tekrar buraya geleecegim” dedi.

Bana sen nelerisin dedi? Ben de Turk’um dedim. Istanbul’mu diye sordu. Yok Ankara dedim. Bana “Yav, siz niye Istanbul’u falan Yunan’lilarin elinden aldiniz? Haksizlik degil mi bu? Niye Yunanlilari kovdunuz?” dedi. Ben de “Ohh, onlar eski olaylar, koprunun altindan cok sular gecti” dedim. Ayrica Yunanlilar istedikleri zaman Istanbul’a bizi ziyaret edebilirler dedim, sakasina. Ama adam bana kil kil bakti.

Sonra soyledi bana: Gunduzleri gitti kilise Yunan kilisesi imis.

Zavalli evsizin beynini yikamis Yunanlilar.

Volkan Akkurt

http://www.anschechesed.org/web/guest

Volkan Akkurt

Monday, May 29, 2017

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Akkurt Volkan / New York City / Opera

New York City Opera leaving Lincoln Center, searching for smaller venue

Volkan Akkurt - New York - 2011 - NYCares -

Volkan Akkurt and Heather Hope in Eastern Turkey

Homeless Shelters - Volkan Akkurt - New York City (NY Cares)

New York City Evsizler Evi (Shelter for homeless)

I signed up for a volunteer organization. The organization is called NY Cares (http://www.newyorkcares.org/). There are all kinds of projects; helping old people, talking to them, reading to kids, cleaning parks, recycling old electronics, cooking for the homeless, cleaning shelters in NY. I already worked with www.lesecologycenter.org and collected two large truck loads of used electronics.
	Mayor's Volunteer Center Check out the Mayor’s Volunteer Center for many great volunteer opportunities. New York Cares New York Cares sends thousands of volunteers to homeless shelters each year. Go to NY-Cares website to find out more about how to get involved with projects such as reading bedtime stories to children, painting murals at shelters, helping residents find their first apartments, and much more. Volunteer with Provider Organizations The organizations listed below provide shelter or related services on behalf of the City. Each has a volunteer program, which would welcome your time and energy. http://blog.newyorkcares.org/?tag=nyc-service