Reminiscence from Anatolia- Part Twenty Three: Lost in the Maze
I was ushered into a room, where some elderly people were sipping tea… and animatedly discussing something
Even before I could speak… I was handed over a cup of hot tea… south east Turkey surely is much colder than its coastal counterpart… and a cup of tea was most welcome even at 12 in the noon… I sipped it… Kurdish tea is sweeter but stronger than the Turkish tea.
“Country”… an elderly gentleman with an white-black Arab headscarf asked me… “Hindistan”… “Sipas”… Persian for hello…
Few days back, when I used to study Persian, my teacher told me that Persians have many ways of greeting somebody… from the religious Salaam-alaikum to Marhaba to Sipas… he also told me that whereas Marhaba is more popular in eastern Iran… Sipas was more popular in western Iran… so, it seems, Kurdish and Persian inter-mingle a lot in western Iran and eastern Turkey.
This elderly gentleman, I found out, was one of the leading literary figures of Diyarbakir… he knew apart from Kurdish and Turkish… little bit of English, Arabic and quite a bit of Persian… and thereafter, we started talking in Persian… understanding a bit and inferring another bit… the conversation henceforth became easier.
The first part of conversation was about establishing my religious identity… he grilled me on fundamentals of Islam to establish that I was a Muslim… little did he know… that he was chartering in my very own territory… Islam and its philosophy has, by now, become an interest area for me…
The second part was about the Kurdish problem… he lamented that Diyarbakir- despite its historical richness- remains a neglected city… no one comes here… and return after seeing the superficial coastal Turkey. And then came a zapper… Kurdistan is very much like Hindistan’s Kashmir… under the yoke of Hindistan… and tried to ascertain my feelings for Kashmir. I changed the topic diplomatically.
Kurdish movement, incidentally, started off as a communist rebellion… supported by the Soviet Union… PKK (the Peasants and Workers Party) still sounds a communist group for peasants and workers… (and actually Kurds formed a disproportionately large peasant and worker group in urban Turkey)… however… in recent years Kurdish movement is getting more and more radicalized… it is being hijacked by Islamists… the Kurdish population- especially the younger generation- is more susceptible. In a way, however, Kurdish rebellion is following the general trend of Turkish society.
In fact, the Tayyip Erdogan government of AKP (Justice and Development Party) is said to have used soft Islam as a vehicle to win over the alienated Kurdish population… and till a few months ago, it was working well… till, some people allege, Army struck back… turning small mole-hill like Kurdish incidents into mountains… and deploying itself in Kurdish cities… the cleavage resurfaced yet again.
The third part of the conversation, however, was the most interesting… I am least interested in politics… only to earn my daily bread… I am more interested in culture, linguistics… and in the third part of the conversation… he told me about various dialects of Kurdish… and how Kurmanji Kurdish is almost same as Persian… the numbers for instance are the same… Yak, Du, Sey, Chahar, Paench, Shish, Haft, Hashd, Noo, Daa….
While I was leaving the place… he arranged for a tourist map of Diyarbakir… I asked for the Armenian Church… and Syrian Church… he raised his eye-brows… why, as a Muslim, I would like to see them… and showed me the directions.
The Armenian Church… lies in a dilapidated state… William Dalrymple mentions it as a cattle-shed… now there is not even a cattle-shed but a crumbled old building… the Syrian Church- the Mariamma Cathedral… exists… I met its patron… who spoke a wee bit of Arabic… “Today only 14 families remain… most of them elderly… once Diyarbakir had almost 10000 families… now only 14…. Most of them have migrated to the West… some have shifted to Midyat… where a number of Syrian families still live”…. I could sense a fear and a melancholy in his eyes.
It was time to visit other sites of the city… I walked up the wall… at a distance I could see the magnificent views of Tigris… some 3 kilometers away… the walls are majestic… I met a few locals… one of them- a fan of local football club- Ultraslan… made me shoot a few of his photographs with a banner of it…
While walking aimlessly in the citadel… I met a few mischievous kids, a Kurdish marriage party… with very beautiful girls dancing to the tune of Kurdish pop… a luxury which has been realized only recently… till a few years ago… Kurdish music was banned in Turkey.
It was time to stroll back towards Ulu Cami… I saw the Karavan Serai… which has been the second most evocative building of all the Diyarbakir… the Nabi Cami… built by one of the blood relatives of the Prophet… the birth place of Ziya Gokalp… one of the leaders of Young Turk Movement… his lineage is Kurdish, but he fought along with the Turks… and always refrained any divisions between the Kurds and Turks… his place, therefore, is surprisingly well kept- as compared to other monuments in Diyarbakir… and the house of great Kurdish poet Cahit Taranci… who, again, is remembered as a great Turkish nationalist.
Diyarbakir… is a city of confusion… the oppressors who feel oppressed… the oppressed who no longer exist… where those who stood for Turk-Kurd unity and those who opposed it… are venerated in the same breath.
It is, like its architecture, a maze… one needs to seep into its street deeper and deeper to understand the nature of this momentous city… I couldn’t… for the lack of time… I had to move on… though after being here I had heard one part of the story… and waited for the other…
I met Omar exactly at the agreed upon time… and started by journey towards the small Kurdish village of Yuvajali
Even before I could speak… I was handed over a cup of hot tea… south east Turkey surely is much colder than its coastal counterpart… and a cup of tea was most welcome even at 12 in the noon… I sipped it… Kurdish tea is sweeter but stronger than the Turkish tea.
“Country”… an elderly gentleman with an white-black Arab headscarf asked me… “Hindistan”… “Sipas”… Persian for hello…
Few days back, when I used to study Persian, my teacher told me that Persians have many ways of greeting somebody… from the religious Salaam-alaikum to Marhaba to Sipas… he also told me that whereas Marhaba is more popular in eastern Iran… Sipas was more popular in western Iran… so, it seems, Kurdish and Persian inter-mingle a lot in western Iran and eastern Turkey.
This elderly gentleman, I found out, was one of the leading literary figures of Diyarbakir… he knew apart from Kurdish and Turkish… little bit of English, Arabic and quite a bit of Persian… and thereafter, we started talking in Persian… understanding a bit and inferring another bit… the conversation henceforth became easier.
The first part of conversation was about establishing my religious identity… he grilled me on fundamentals of Islam to establish that I was a Muslim… little did he know… that he was chartering in my very own territory… Islam and its philosophy has, by now, become an interest area for me…
The second part was about the Kurdish problem… he lamented that Diyarbakir- despite its historical richness- remains a neglected city… no one comes here… and return after seeing the superficial coastal Turkey. And then came a zapper… Kurdistan is very much like Hindistan’s Kashmir… under the yoke of Hindistan… and tried to ascertain my feelings for Kashmir. I changed the topic diplomatically.
Kurdish movement, incidentally, started off as a communist rebellion… supported by the Soviet Union… PKK (the Peasants and Workers Party) still sounds a communist group for peasants and workers… (and actually Kurds formed a disproportionately large peasant and worker group in urban Turkey)… however… in recent years Kurdish movement is getting more and more radicalized… it is being hijacked by Islamists… the Kurdish population- especially the younger generation- is more susceptible. In a way, however, Kurdish rebellion is following the general trend of Turkish society.
In fact, the Tayyip Erdogan government of AKP (Justice and Development Party) is said to have used soft Islam as a vehicle to win over the alienated Kurdish population… and till a few months ago, it was working well… till, some people allege, Army struck back… turning small mole-hill like Kurdish incidents into mountains… and deploying itself in Kurdish cities… the cleavage resurfaced yet again.
The third part of the conversation, however, was the most interesting… I am least interested in politics… only to earn my daily bread… I am more interested in culture, linguistics… and in the third part of the conversation… he told me about various dialects of Kurdish… and how Kurmanji Kurdish is almost same as Persian… the numbers for instance are the same… Yak, Du, Sey, Chahar, Paench, Shish, Haft, Hashd, Noo, Daa….
While I was leaving the place… he arranged for a tourist map of Diyarbakir… I asked for the Armenian Church… and Syrian Church… he raised his eye-brows… why, as a Muslim, I would like to see them… and showed me the directions.
The Armenian Church… lies in a dilapidated state… William Dalrymple mentions it as a cattle-shed… now there is not even a cattle-shed but a crumbled old building… the Syrian Church- the Mariamma Cathedral… exists… I met its patron… who spoke a wee bit of Arabic… “Today only 14 families remain… most of them elderly… once Diyarbakir had almost 10000 families… now only 14…. Most of them have migrated to the West… some have shifted to Midyat… where a number of Syrian families still live”…. I could sense a fear and a melancholy in his eyes.
It was time to visit other sites of the city… I walked up the wall… at a distance I could see the magnificent views of Tigris… some 3 kilometers away… the walls are majestic… I met a few locals… one of them- a fan of local football club- Ultraslan… made me shoot a few of his photographs with a banner of it…
While walking aimlessly in the citadel… I met a few mischievous kids, a Kurdish marriage party… with very beautiful girls dancing to the tune of Kurdish pop… a luxury which has been realized only recently… till a few years ago… Kurdish music was banned in Turkey.
It was time to stroll back towards Ulu Cami… I saw the Karavan Serai… which has been the second most evocative building of all the Diyarbakir… the Nabi Cami… built by one of the blood relatives of the Prophet… the birth place of Ziya Gokalp… one of the leaders of Young Turk Movement… his lineage is Kurdish, but he fought along with the Turks… and always refrained any divisions between the Kurds and Turks… his place, therefore, is surprisingly well kept- as compared to other monuments in Diyarbakir… and the house of great Kurdish poet Cahit Taranci… who, again, is remembered as a great Turkish nationalist.
Diyarbakir… is a city of confusion… the oppressors who feel oppressed… the oppressed who no longer exist… where those who stood for Turk-Kurd unity and those who opposed it… are venerated in the same breath.
It is, like its architecture, a maze… one needs to seep into its street deeper and deeper to understand the nature of this momentous city… I couldn’t… for the lack of time… I had to move on… though after being here I had heard one part of the story… and waited for the other…
I met Omar exactly at the agreed upon time… and started by journey towards the small Kurdish village of Yuvajali
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