Travelling Eastwards, ever Eastwards...
Trip Start
Sep 28, 2006
1
28
40
Trip End
Oct 28, 2006
Hasankeyf, Turkey
Monday, October 16, 2006
Didn't sleep particularly well for some reason - probably because I had set the aircon too low and I was just slightly cold.
We woke finally at 6.15 and rushed to get ready for Nasip at 7am. We didn't manage to get breakfast in time but Mandi had packed our nuts and stuff.
Mandi
Well! I know I keep saying it but this was one of the most memorable days of the holiday. But I'll start at the beginning.
We were downstairs, as promised, at 7am to meet our guide Nasip. He is an interesting man: Kurdish, and very close to fanatical although he keeps claiming he isn't fanatical. But then he also keeps going on and on and ON about the fact that he's a "professional guide" (when that means something quite specific here in Turkey, namely someone like Isa who has completed a 4-year University course covering History, Geography, Hospitality, Languages etc etc; they wear a little card so you know) and a "professional driver" (when he did some driving for the US Army in Iraq) so one has to take much of what he says with a pinch of salt. He is certainly a safe driver, comparatively (still overtakes cheerily on solid lines but show me a Turk who doesn't and I'll show you a dead one) and certainly very keen to please as regards where he takes you. But nothing like the depth of knowledge that Isa had about his region - but of course we have guide books for that. Anyway he was very keen to be asked some political or economic questions to display his knowledge of the region so we were happy to oblige. And of course despite the guide books' prohibitions on talking politics, we wouldn't be South Africans if we passed up an opportunity to talk serious politics!
Graham
It was a lovely cool morning, cloudy but not raining as we set out for Hasankeyf via Batman. The trip proved to be quite interesting as Nasip is fairly knowledgeable about Kurdish affairs, though as a native of a village just outside Diyarbakir, probably biased. He, for example, suggested that the government was not investing in the region, which is patently not true, given all the road building and building that is going on in the region. That not withstanding, the indications are that the support for a Kurdish homeland is still strong.
Mandi
Having heard Feza and Orhan's opinions about the Kurds (namely that they are Turks, not a special minority, and are entitled to exactly what every other Turk is, but not MORE than other Turks) it was very interesting to hear the other side of the story. The Kurds (at least according to Nasip, who may of course not be representative but then Feza and Orhan might not be either) see "The Turks" as The Other whereas the Arikans see "Turk" as a much more unifying term - something which encompasses all sorts of people who happen to live here. Orhan even claimed that we could turn up, say we want to live here, instantly be granted residence and citizenship and immediately become "Turks." I assume there must have been an element of exaggeration in that, but that was the general idea. So, according to Nasip, The Turks (or, alternatively, The Government) are constantly out to get the Kurds - burning villages etc. And of course that may well be true - we certainly don't have any detailed knowledge and it was certainly happening in Saddam's Iraq. He claims that the entire population of this region is entirely Kurdish with the exception of the Army and Government officials (which, if true, would explain why the Army is trigger-happy! They're shit-scared!) But at no stage did he ever give us any specific reason for why this is being done to the innocent, peace-loving Kurds so one has to wonder about the causes of all the animosity. I get the impression that the cause of the trouble is largely massive chips on the shoulders of the Kurds. Interestingly, it's not religion. Although the Kurds are more religious than the rest of the Turks (on average) Nasip, anyway, believes fervently in the secular state. I think it all comes down to the Kurdish Homeland. They want it, united with the Kurds from Iraq, Iran and Syria, and the rest of Turkey, anyway, just doesn't see the point because they are so very un-ethnic - in fact (Feza said) most of them don't know their ethnic backgrounds.
Graham
We stopped regularly for Mandi to take pictures of the country side and on one occasion I went out into a cotton field to confirm that cotton is not thorny. It isn't. But I did get mud on my shoes that was difficult to remove.
We stopped at Batman to take a photo of the sign, before pushing on to Hasankeyf. The first thing we noticed on entering the village were the remains of an old roman bridge and the two storks sitting on a large nest balanced on the top of the minaret. Here we started to get a little irritated with our guide. The gate to the village was locked so we were expected to wait in his friend's shop where touts descended on us from all sides. To add to our discomfort, there is also a captive porcupine in a very small cage. We escaped from the shop to walk down the road to look at some of the rooms hollowed out into the cliff face.
Mandi
Anyway, that gives a bit of background to our day. We set off due east, passing through the very ordinary sprawling little oil town which revels in the name "Batman" but doesn't have anything else to recommend it. Nearby, on a graceful bend of the Tigris River, is the little village of Hasankeyf which will be flooded if the proposed dam on the Tigris is built. I kind of doubt it will, because of all the opposition to the Ataturk Dam on the Euphrates, but who knows. Hasankeyf is approached on a bridge across the river, beside the graceful ruins of an old Roman bridge. One then goes steeply uphill through some chickens scratching on the road and stops, inevitably, by Nasip's friend's carpet shop across the road from the entrance to the old town, which was conveniently locked, so we could come and sit "for ten minutes" in the friend's carpet shop... trouble is in these eastern areas they won't even offer you a cup of tea during Ramazan (most of the locantas are actually shut despite the fact that their proprietors are still sitting around inside looking tired) so there's only one reason to sit in the carpet shop...
As I got out of the car, the first thing I saw was a porcupine quill. I picked it up and showed it to Graham, and was immediately ushered to see a small cage, set in the middle of the floor, without even a dark sleeping corner, in which languished a poor porcupine. I was so upset by this that I left and we spent the 45 minutes or so waiting for the man with the key to the gate wandering up and down the steep mountainous road looking at chickens and so on. Afterwards we were told that the porcupine was injured and would be released when it had healed. I think that may be so, because generally the Turks are very nice to their animals. Farm animals all look in good condition; donkeys are humanely loaded and camels don't have that awful nose-peg the Chinese use, farm dogs may be chained but are well-fed and generally stand up eagerly and wag their big curly tails at the approach of any person, and the people are very affectionate towards animals. So I hope that the porcupine's incarceration will be short. Either way, I didn't want to be around it.
Graham
We later walked up the hill past the shop where Nasip also pointed out an eagle sitting on a log. Mandi indicated that we were not happy to see wild animals in cages. Nasip later told us that the owner loves animals and those that we saw were injured and in rehabilitation - so who knows.
After about an hour the key or the gate keeper, or both, were found and we made our way up the cliff to the abandoned city. This was really spectacular. The remains of the castle on the bluff were particularly imposing, particularly considering that the stone walls rise sheer from the cliff top 80m up. These must have been particularly difficult to build.
The rest of the city was just as impressive with some large structures both underground and on the surface. The best houses had spectacular views across the valley. The abandoned mosque surrounded by ranks of ancient graves was also very moving.
Mandi
Eventually Nasip came and collected us because the gate was now open. A few moments beforehand, we had taken a decision to go back and say "forget the old town" because we'd had a good look at some cave formations and a farmstead in a cave, and didn't think we'd see much more of interest. However, it was very interesting after all, imagining those people living their busy lives up on the hillside in their partly dug out, partly built up homes. Some were quite big - one can imagine that with rugs on the walls and floors, and all their belongings in the little wall niches, it would have been quite comfortable. The mosque, in particular, was lovely: up on the very summit of the mountain, surrounded by open space and with a breathtaking view of the river below. We agreed that you certainly felt closer to God up there than in some other places!
Graham
When we got down to the car, a woman approached asking for a lift to a village up the road, for her old and infirm mother. Nasif asked whether we would be happy for him to take her and we agreed. He was proposing to leave us in the bloody shop, but Mandi said that she wanted to go.
The road was steep and the village about 5km up into the mountains. We dropped the two old ladies and then as we drove into the square were just in time to have school come out for lunch.
Mandi
We came back down to the car, which had caused a bit of a stir with some people up the hill because it has two ostensibly Diyarbakir Sports Club pennants, red and green, in the back window - apparently a sign to the Army that this is a patriotic Kurd, and the word "Diyarbakirli" lettered across the back window. This means "someone from Diyarbakir" BUT - and here's the critical difference - under Ataturk's new alphabet, the town's name is actually spelt (I haven't been able to spell it correctly here) with the last "i" UNdotted, which makes it a "back vowel" whereas true blue Kurds spell it with a DOTTED "i" and pronounce it with a FRONT vowel, so this is also a signal to the world that this car belongs to a Kurd as opposed to a Turk. What a difference a single tiny dot can make! So the people up on the hill, who were resting under a dead tree on a pictureseque cliff, when I took their photo posed with what I thought was just a "bunny ears" V-sign like kids do when they're horsing around for photos. But I am told this is the PKK symbol, and stands somehow for "Freedom Forever."
As we were getting into the car, Nasip was approached by an old woman with some long story. It seems there was an even older woman nearby who was ill (I should think actually just too old to go where she wanted to - she looked about 106) and there was only one bus a day up to their village, and could Nasip give her a lift home? He deferred it to us, and we said of course we didn't mind. He was all for leaving us back in the carpet shop with the porcupine, but we said we wanted to go too. So up we drove, up the steep narrow road into the mountains. There were moments when it crossed my mind that we were mad to be doing this, what if it was all a ploy or we'd be taken hostage by PKK operatives in the mountains? But it was all quite thrilling, and very beautiful. The village was probably only ten minutes drive up the steep road (which was in excellent condition, incidentally - narrow but tarred) but would have been several hours exhausting walk for even a fit person, I should imagine. Much of the hillside was terraced - it's an incredibly rocky terrain everywhere - and some of that planted with lush gardens containing veggies, fruit trees and even flowers. The unplanted terraces were drier and we couldn't get a sensible answer out of Nasip as to whether they were seasonal, perhaps part of a multi-year rotation, or abandoned. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the gardens have had to be abandoned if the young men are off fighting with the PKK.
The old ladies indicated we could leave them as soon as we got over the worst of the steep bits but we took them to their door just on the edge of the village, where I helped them out of the car and had my hand and face thoroughly kissed for my trouble by the old dear. We drove on into the little wider part outside the mosque to turn the car, only to find school had just been let out for lunch, and the muezzin was calling, so the tiny "village square" was alive with almost the entire population of the village. I got out to distribute sweets that Nasip had bought earlier. This is when I realised how remote we were - instead of crowding around, as I had expected, yelling "money! money!" as the kids in towns do, they hung back politely and some were almost too shy to come close enough to me to get their sweet. I was quite concerned that there were kids I might have left out because they were so well-mannered. The kids were also incredibly clean and well-dressed, the youngsters in a sort of blue smock with a white embroidered collar that we've seen all over in eastern Turkey, anyway, and the Middle School kids, extremely dignified with the boys in suits and ties and the girls in grey pleated skirts and blue sleeveless jumpers over blouses. Apparently after eight years of schooling, anyone who wants to go further must go to Batman or Diyarbakir.
Graham
Mandi got involved in taking pictures and distributing sweets to the little kids and then we got to talking to the English teacher and some of his colleagues. Before we knew it we had been invited up to see the school. I was expecting something rather tatty, but we found an imposing pink building completed in 2002. The playground was beaten earth but spotless and the school is clean and bright. We were given the opportunity to look into each of the classes, presided over by that teacher while the head girl fussed around us. There were 4 for the juniors downstairs and the same number for the seniors upstairs. The technology classroom had two good microscopes as well as various biological and electrical equipment.
The kids were arriving back after lunch as we gathered with all of the teachers on the front porch. They were interested to know how the school compared to those in Australia. I said that I was impressed by both the neatness of the teachers and the students and the quality of the infrastructure.
Mandi
After a few minutes of photos (always a huge entertainment here, because after every carefully-posed photo you have to show them the image on the screen), a very well-dressed man appeared: a teacher. We got some pictures of him with his kids and before long a colleague who was actually the English teacher appeared as well. So now we could communicate. The English teacher was a small, neat, well-dressed man who was clearly delighted to suddenly be put into this position of importance. He told us he has frequently told his kids that they must learn English because "what if, one day, a tourist comes to the village?" But they had never believed that would be possible. So he was getting a bit of that satisfying "I told you so!" feeling. So I had a LOT of very earnest conversations, mostly with the middle school girls (the boys were a bit cool, I think!) "Good morning!" "Good morning. My name is ...., what is your name?" "My name is Mandi." (Shake hands.) "Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you." "Welcome to our village." "Pleased to be here." "Goodbye." "Goodbye." (I was reminded very much of our Turkish lessons!!!) The braver girls were game to do this on their own, but even the shyer ones on the outskirts were prepared to give it a whirl once their friends had done so and once I knew the script.
After a while the teachers (by now three or four) asked us if we would like to see their school. We were delighted to accept, and picked our way up through the donkey-shit to the school, a handsome square pink building near the top of the village. We were MOST impressed. The village (whose name, incidentally, is Karakoy, Black Village, in Turkish; something else in Kurdish) contains only 85 families, so I would guess a maximum of 200 or so kids, but there are eight handsome, light and CLEAN classrooms - they put Bethany even on a good day to shame, as does the playground - serving everyone from seven lovely little preschoolers with their "mother" - the only female teacher, young and elegant and very smartly dressed, through to four middle school classrooms, the English one with "I am, you are, he is," etc written on the board from the lesson before lunch and a well-equipped "technology" room with shelves containing those human anatomy models, chemistry equipment, two good microscopes, and a great lush growth of plants for some Biology. In all cases the desks were arranged around the edge facing inwards, indicating class sizes of no more than 12 or 15, I'd think, and absolutely SPARKLING clean and neat. It really was a most impressive school, and a wonderful visit. We felt enormously welcome, and very special.
Something that I felt very strongly about the school was that the Kurds can't be being treated so terribly badly if the Government is providing an education of that quality to a village of 85 families. It was, I should guess, superior to anything in an equivalent sized community in Australia (in facilities, equipment and staffing as well as the care taken of it by all the kids and staff - I can't stress how absolutely impeccable everything was! The only writing I saw anywhere other than on the blackboards was a large banner in the hallway containing Ali's idiom about if you teach me one letter I will be your slave for a thousand years - I think they would have passed out to discover a kid writing "I love Ali" on a desk!!!) and of course light years ahead of anything in South Africa. I presume it's a canny decision: provide a good quality education to Kurdish kids and not only do you broaden their horizons beyond their fathers' own tiny politics, but you probably turn the bright, charismatic ones into hard-working lawyers, engineers and doctors off somewhere where they are not going to wage guerrilla warfare on you!!! It's a long-term idea, but surely the best possible one.
It is now Tuesday morning and we have only a few hours left to see Diyarbakir (with or without a dot on the last "i") so I am going to let Graham tell you about the rest of our day, and update this on the plane to Istanbul this evening....
Graham
The English teacher asked whether we would be able to supply some books and technology. I said that I would do what I could. I think it would be great to support a school that is doing so much for its students.
To see a school like that is an indication that the Turkish government is investing heavily in education in the Kurdish region. One wonders whether the same emphasis would occur were the Kurds granted their independence - could they afford to build and staff such a school in a village of only 85 families.
We continued south to Midyat and then out east to the monastery of Morgabriel which is an impressively restored Syrian Orthodox establishment with some lovely brick domes. If I needed to go on retreat to recover from the stress of modern living, this is where I would go. It also has the most spectacular toilets I have ever visited. Each of the urinals has a low marble plinth on which to stand while peeing.
We drove back into Midyat to see a house owned by a rich local. The way was blocked by a large truck but Nasip knew the alleys and took us around the other way. There was a guard at the gate, however, and at first we were not allowed in because Turkish TV is making a movie there. The powers that be relented as filming had not yet started and we had 5 minutes to see around the lovely house. It was of course at its best with carpets and samovars on the decks for the movie. It was a lovely building for all the bustle. Nasips eyes were popping as he identified all the local stars, but they meant nothing to us.
We thanked a busy grey headed man who must have been the director, and were on our way to Mardin. The scenery could be Northern Transvaal with grassland and bush.
At Mardin, chaotic as usual, we picked Leona up and then drove down to the Buyuk Mardin Hotel which also belongs to the man who owns the Buyuk Kervanseray. Went up to the roof from which we had an incredible view across the Mesopotamian plains to Syria and if the air was clearer, to both Iraq and Iran. Storms were coming in, so the sky and the light were brilliant.
Nasip insisted on eating dinner here as it is free for him. I had some poor and overpriced meze. Leona, who had said she was not hungry, proceeded to eat both the remains of Nasip's dinner and my snack. The poor girl must have been starving.
When we got back to our hotel, I paid for the tour plus about 15YTL to cover the sweets etc. Nasip didn't appear to be impressed.
We dropped our bags and went out to get supper, but it was after 7pm and all the restaurants were packing up after the post fast feeding frenzy. We did find a place that was prepared to serve us and we had a pretty good, albeit hurried, kebab.
Met Nasip back at the hotel and he started to nag us to buy the kelim before he closes shop for the winter. He then pissed me off by saying something about the trip up to the village being free of charge as if he had organised it.
Mandi
