Saliho

Syriac kids at Anıtlı Church

A few days ago, I was on a trip to eastern Turkey that included a visit to the ancient city of Hasankeyf. The trip was organized by fellows from Koç Universitesi Research Center for Anatolian Civilizations (RCAC), and consisted of art historians, scholars, and archeologists who knew everything from 5th century Syriac Monasteries to Byzantian cisterns to 12th century dynasty of Artuqids. I had a lucky ride as my dear friend Merih, who is also an RCAC fellow, sneaked my name on the list of people signing up for the trip. Having never been to eastern Turkey before, this excursion was an amazing eye-opening experience for me. I learned so much about the history of civilizations, religions, languages, and people that lived and died in this region. I will write more about some of these experiences, but today, I wanted to start with the children I met during this journey. 

Ancient Hasankeyf will be underwater soon

Mostly Kurdish or Syriac, these children had the ancient cities as their playground and knew everything about the political, social and cultural history of the surroundings. I learned from Nihat -age 9- that there are 12 mosques, 6 monasteries, and 4 churches in Midyat, Mardin. Ruji -age 8- told me that the water pipes of the cisterns at antique Dara were still functional. She also showed me how to take a picture of inside the pipes with my camera, so I could see where they lead to. Saliho -age 10- complained about how most of his family were forced to move to İstanbul; their house and the ancient Artuqid bridge will be underwater once the Ilıca Dam of Hasankeyf is completed in a few years. As a compensation for the lost homes, the government is building these TOKİ houses nearby, but Saliho hates them, as these are nothing like the stone house he lives in now. "They are ugly" he says, "and during the summer heat, the inside will not be as cool as it is now in our stone house". I tend to agree.  

Kurdish kids selling bead jewelery

Saliho is a Kurdish kid. Like all the other Kurdish and Syriac kids in the region, he learned Turkish at school. He is very fluent if you ask me, but he doesn't want to learn another language because he thinks he still has lot to learn in Turkish. He is full of stories; some from his own imagination like "a star fell on this mosque few years ago and destroyed it!", and some from his daily life like "my mom was bitten by a scorpion for 14 times, she is like a cat with nine lives!". Just like the other kids, he knows the region like the back of his hand: when the Artuqid bridge on Tigris was built, the ancient secret passages up the hill that goes down to the river, the protective snake figures on the gates, and the name of the Austrian smuggler who stole antique stones from Hasankeyf. The only thing he doesn't know is the names of his siblings. He has eight brothers and four sisters, but could only remember five names, with one being Kızgın Abi (Mad Brother).

Saliho taught me a few words in Kurdish. I was a little embarrassed as I didn't know how to say even the simplest expressions in Kurdish like "How are you, are you fine?" (Çoni wa beşi?) or "Thank you" (Sago be). Before the trip, as a "civilized", learned adult, I downloaded an iPhone app for Turkish-Kurdish dictionary, which served completely useless as the dialect spoken in that region was different than what I had in my genius phone. Kurdish is an Indo-European language, unlike Turkish that belongs to Altaic languages. The formation of sentences, its grammar and phonetics is very different, making it even harder for these kids to speak Turkish without sounding funny. 12% of the population in Turkey speaks Kurdish, but the right to publish and broadcast in their own language was given to them only recently in the '90s. Here is Saliho, singing happily in his own language, though he is a bit pious and was hesitant to sing inside the old ancient mosque. 

Local historians of antique Dara

I loved the kids of this region. Smart, funny and beautiful, they run around happily while earning their money either as tourist guides or selling bead jeweleries and flower tiaras to visitors. I asked Saliho what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said he wants to be a pilot. I really hope he achieves his dream and gets to see the oceans of which he only knows the names of. Sago be Saliho, and all the other kids, for their smiles and lovely stories...

Note: Please correct my Kurdish if I mispronounced the words.