Pagani closed!!!

Now it’s official. Since last Saturday the detention centre of Pagani (see earlier reports) has been closed down by the local prefecture. After last months riots inside of Pagani, serious repression of the police (see http://lesvos09.antira.info/2009/10/police-repression-in-pagani-increasing/ and for pictures http://athens.indymedia.org/front.php3?lang=el&article_id=1094319) and the boat accident a few days ago where 18 refugees died in the Aegean Sea while crossing the sea from Turkey to Lesvos/ Greece (see http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/world/europe/28greece.html?_r=1&ref=global-home), the news about Lesvos and the life conditions of the refugees on the island did not stop. Now after the local prefecture finally decided to close down the prison or so called “welcome centre”, the cells are no longer locked, and migrants roam around in the yard. Some have taken out their mattresses and sleep outside, in order to avoid the intense bad smell from the cells. Food is given through prison bars. The last 130 prisoners except for four have been released and given ferry tickets to Athens.


That Pagani closed does not mean that the Greek government also plans to close down other detention camps. According to the tageszeitung, the EU is currently financing a programme to built up new detention camps with better standards. This means that also in the future the freedom refugees will be heavily restricted for months without giving any provision for the future. As the persistent protest against Pagani in Lesvos demonstrated, change can be achieved. In August various no border activists built up pressure through protests and activities in Lesvos, demanding notes of the UN and the EU followed. Through the media coverages of these events and announcements and especially the unbreakable will and strength of the prisoners, Pagani closed down. Nevertheless, this change is only a small step and further examination of the issue, protesting and awareness-raising is inevitable and necessary.

For more information see: http://www.taz.de/1/politik/europa/artikel/1/%5Cschlimmer-als-dantes-inferno%5C/
or

Note: all pictures on this site are taken from http://lesvos09.antira.info/

Escaping from Afghanistan – The story of an afghan refugee Part 1

The following story was experienced and written down by Azadi, a refugee from Afghanistan I met in Greece this summer:

My name is Azadi and I want to tell you my story. I am from the north of Afghanistan. My story starts with my father’s job. My father is a general in the Afghan army. For 15 years he has been working for his country and his people. In fact, that was the most important for him: to support his people. He never worked for some political party. He is an honest general, a normal human. He was one of the only ones who were really interested to support his people and not the government or the Taliban. Every year during the time my father was working as a general, there were different governmental parties.
After 9/11 the USA and the NATO decided to come to Afghanistan to start a new war. Its their way of making money: to kill people, destroy Afghanistan support the drug business. At one point my father wrote a paper to the president of Afghanistan and asked for leaving his job in the army. He said at this point he can not help his people. He said: This war is not for peace or for humanity. And continued: Because I don’t want to be a slave of war I want to ask you to accept my retirement.
After some days we receive a letter of the defence ministry written in English and Farsi and signed by the president of Afghanistan the defence ministre and an American commander. They asked my father in the letter to work with them. They promised him money and power. But my father refused. He explained that he wants to live a life as other Afghans and not the life of a slave like the President.
One week later, the US defence ministry sent another letter to my father asking him again to work with them and that it would be a great chance for him. Again my father thanked them for the offer but rejected.
Some weeks later at 10 o’clock in the morning my father told me he has some work to do. My father still working as a general had bodyguards and I did not much worry. At ten o’clock at night I called him to tell him that the family is waiting for im to eat dinner. He said I shouldn’t worry and that he is coming a little bit later. So we started eating. But at 12 o’clock he was still not there and my mother started worrying. I was worried too. In our village it’s dark as in te forest at night and very dangerous. So I called him again and asked him where he is. At this point he became upset and assured me that he will come soon. In this night my mother couldn’t sleep. I told her not to worry and that he will come in the morning. But I feared the whole time that something had happened because of the presence of the US government in Afghanistan. My mother replied: Allah knows better.
In the morning when I woke up, my mother told me to call him to come home. When I called him this time his mobile was off. This moment was the worst in our life. We knew that our father was waking up every day at eight. So where was he? What happened? I decided to go to the police but they did not let me inside. Instead they said: Go to the Americans, ask them for help. They were the same police men who were always very kind to me during the time my father was still in his position. No they wouldn’t even let me pass. I went to the Defence ministry. But as they also refused to let me inside, I went to the main base of the Americans at the Bagram Military Airport. There they said they don’t know him and that he was not working with them. In the end I called my uncle who had the same job as my father but also working with the government and the US. When he recognized me he said that he has no time and that he does not wan me to call him again. I cried. Nobody helped me. What was I supposed to do now? I had to act since I was the oldest son in the family. But life went on. Bitterly. We cried every day. We got sick. My small brothers and sisters constantly asked for our father. Days were going like years, weeks like a century. After three weeks the defence ministry sent a letter to our house. Inside it was written that we have exactly 24 hour to leave the country. It said: only go with the cloths you wear on your body. Don’t ask for any permission to take something else from your home. My mother decided that we have to go. The army dropped us near the border to Pakistan. “Now you go straight tp Pakistan. There is no way to come back. If you do anyways we put you in prison. When I went to the bank to get some money and close our account the bank manager informed me that the government already closed our accounts and he is not allowed to give us even one cent. Luckily my mother had some little savings. So we went to Pakistan. I stayed there with my family for three months. It was hard because I had to work a lot to support our big family. That’s why I decided to leave for Greece. But since I had no money to pay the trafficking mafia I called a friend of my father. He got very angry when he heard what happened to us. I told him I need 5000 US $ to go to Greece. He is the president of a political party and the leader of the opposition in Afghanistan. He sent me the money and I started the journey. I risked my life on the way but now I am in Greece since over a year. I miss my father and my mother. I know she is very strong. Strong as my god my sisters and brothers.

Part 2 see below: From Pakistan to Greece – the story of an afghan refugee

Mardin und Derik – unterwegs in Südost-Anatolien

Das ist Mardin. Im äußersten Südosten der Türkei gelegen, sind es bis zur syrischen Grenze 20 Kilometer. Irak ist nicht weit. Die Geschichte der Stadt ist mehr als turbulent. Und grausam. Während des Massakers an den Armeniern 1915-1916 wurden hier ausnahmslos alle arabischen, aramäischen und armenischen Christen der Stadt umgebracht. Heute leben alle in Frieden zusammen: Kurden, Araber, Aramäer und Türken. Keine Selbstverständlichkeit im konfliktträchtigen anatolischen Osten. Praktisch jeder, den wir auf der Strasse treffen spricht fliessend türkisch, arabisch und kurdisch. Neben Moslems und aramäischen Christen lebten bis vor einigen Jahrzehnten mehrere tausend jesidische Kurden in der Provinz Mardin. Die meisten von ihnen sind mittlerweile nach Deutschland ausgewandert.


Der Blick vom alten Teil Mardins in Richtung Syrien auf die mesopotamische Ebene

Und der Blick in einer alte Leblebi-Manufaktur, wo noch immer wie früher Kichererbsen geröstet und verkauft werden. Bei dem Besitzer des Ladens durften wir unser Gepäck abstellen, unendlich viele Çays trinken, seine islamisch-nationalistischen Tiraden über uns ergehen lassen und fanden einen unglücklichen Kurden, der uns um ein bisschen glücklicher zu werden, durch Mardin begleitete.

Während wir auf einer Anhöhe in Richtung Syrien blicken, bemerken wir, dass wir nicht alleine sind. Wir kommen mit den beiden Mädchen die auf der Aussichtshöhe sitzen ins Gespräch. Nach fünf Minuten laden sie uns zu sich nach Hause ein.

Dort erwartet uns eine 15-köpfige Kernfamilie, die bis auf ihre zwei männlichen Vertreter aus den liebenswürdigsten lachenden, schreienden, Kindern, Mädchen und Frauen besteht. Nachdem wir unseren Kaffee ausgetrunken haben, werden wir aufgefordert die Nacht bei ihnen zu verbringen. Wir nehmen die Einladung dankend an und werden wir bis zur Bettgehzeit mit Reis Gemüse, Süssigkeiten, frischen Pflaumen, Feigen, Granatäpfeln gefüttert. Beim Versuch erste kurdische Worte zu lernen, stellt sich heraus, dass Kurmanci und Romanes gemeinsame Wörter besitzen. Und ich frage mich weshalb die kurdische Mama wie eine klassische Zigeunermama aussieht.

Von Mardin aus machen wir uns auf den Weg nach Derik, passieren trostlose und doch lebendige Orte

Während wir zu einer heiligen Quelle in den Bergen durch das Dorf wandern…

treffen wir Schulkinder auf ihrem Weg nach Hause…

…junge Männer, die gerade von der Arbeit kommen…


…und Familien mit ihren mit Feuerholz für den Winter beladenen Eseln

What the heck means ‘uxorilocal’ or ‘acephal’ ?

If you ever sat in an anthropological lecture and asked youreself: “What the heck means ‘uxorilocal’ or ‘acephal’?” but you you didn’t want to ask your teacher or were to lazy or to poor to get yourself a dictionary of anthropological terms, the Cambridge University offers help. A 10 pages strong paper with the most important anthropological terms to download here:

anthropological terms

“The problems occur at night” – Being a transsexual in Istanbul

It’s late afternoon in Taksim, the centre of Istanbul. Ebru, Demet and some of their friends are sitting in a violett painted, yet quite empty room, somewhere in a side street of the lively district. The women chat over a cup of tea, exchanging the latest news: new relationships, politics, the job market, cooking recipies. Everything seems normal untill I enter the scenery, asking them how life as a transsexual in Istanbul feels for them, what sort of difficulties they face. One of the women looks at me, confused by the question. She responds: „It’s good, my life is good, I don’t have many problems.“ I am puzzled. Demet jumps into the conversation: „But as a transsexual, she means, we face problems in our lifes, don’t we? Friends of us get killed by their lovers, we are harassed by the police, shop-keepers charge us more because of our sexual identity. We have problems.“
Problems that prompted Demet and her friend Ebru six months ago to rent the little room we are sitting in now. Problems that caused them to offer a safe space for transgender and transsexual friends, for counseling, debating, exchanging news, chatting.

Ebru Kırancı and Demet Demir on the İstiklal Cadessi in Istanbul

Working conditions and legal situation
News that did not make it to the news: One day after the last Pride Parade at the end of June 2009, a 19 year old transvestite from Şişli/ İstanbul was killed. The story of facts is as short as her life. The transsexual was picked up by a customer in the centre of Istanbul. What happened afterwards in the customer’s car remains unclear. Local transsexuals assume that there was an argument between the sex-worker and her customer. However, the dead body of the transvestite has been dropped by its murderer in Zeytinburnu, another district of Istanbul, around 20 minutes away from the centre. A relative of the transsexual sewed the case and LGBTT people in Turkey tried to spread the news over their own information channels like their homepage or facebook groups. Besides this, no public attention has been paid to the killing of this young person. Recently there is no media coverage of violence against transvestites. The only way to do something, says Demet, is to protest. “Then the police is forced to find the murderers.”

One of the major problems transsexual face are linked to working conditions for transsexuals, especially in cases where they earn their money as sex-workers. “We can’t even work at home.The state and the local government use to close houses in which transsexuals and transvestites work, even if we live there.“ Due to a new regulation, private houses are assaulted and closed down for three month. After this period local authoratives close them down again for the same period. This has not always been like that claims Demet: “I saw the coup d’etat in the 1980s and how everything changed. Before the coup the environment was considerably friendly. After the coup transsexuals have been unrightfully taken to prison, raped, murdered. This continued until the new millenium. Since 2000, after the EU-negotiations things became more easier for transvestites, at least for a brief period. Then when AKP came into power things started to get more difficult again. Before they came into power 2002, they would close down houses for 10 days. Recently the period has been expanded to three months. Even the state runned brothels are closed down one after the other under the islamist-neoliberal AKP (Justice and Development Party) administration. After 1995 there were around 10.000 sex workers. Around half of them were registred. Now there around 4000 registred sex-workers but the total number is near a hundred thousand. So the number of unregistred sex-workers has been increased incredibly.“

In order to survive many of the sex-workers go to the street where they are confronted with new difficulties. On the pretext of blocking the traffic, disturbing public life, sex-workers get arrested on a regular basis due to a law that has been passed by the islamist-neoliberal AKP government in power. Another law that made life more difficult for transsexuals is the recently passed, so called, exhibitionist law. Transsexuals, officially being accused of showing their sexual organ in public, Ebru argues that „even transsexuals who show up in the most conservative dress are taken over by the police“. „They take you to the police department where they charge you between 60 and 70 YTL. On top of that we are supposed to pay food and rent. It is not possible to live like that. We can’t work. In this situation we say just give us a monthly payment. But they don’t want that either. They want us to starve and die,“ Demet adds. According to her, this situation where transsexuals can’t neither work in their homes nor in the streets, forces transgender people who work in the sex-business to their last station of choice – the highways. „There our friends get raped and killed by the customers or cars run over them. The responsible organ for that is the state because they force us to work there.“ Moreover, the state began a programme based on a court decision, that has been passed around two years ago on which basis transsexuals and transgendered are transferred into mental institutions. Being transsexual, according to the court, was considered, as a mental sickness that needs to be cured. „We know about 100 transsexual and transgender people that have experienced such assaults by state representatives. “We could only convince a couple of them to sew them because they are scared“, says Demet. „However, when we file reports concerning sexual harrassment at the police station the answer we get is: ‚it’s probably because you shook your tail, thats why he jumped on you ’“, says Demet.

However, there are also more positive examples. Başak, a friend of the group, recently got accepted as a teacher in an elementary school. The kids don’t know about my sexual identity, she says and claims that so far no problems have been occured, even not with teachers or parents.

Family situation and marriages among transsexuals
Demet came out when she was 22. Afterwards she lived for one year with her parents “but I am an exception”, she states. In contrast to her, Ebru has not seen her family for 20 years. Both of them agree that after coming out in the family it is hard to find a place in the transsexual community. Sex-work is mostly the only chance to survive for transsexuals. „Usually,“ Demet says „if you give money to your family they still consider you their daughter, if not then you are the fagot kid. Most families of transsexuals cut ties untill they die. If they die though they are hunting for what remains of the person“. Demet knows around 10-15 transwomen who got married while their husbands know about their sexual identity. However, when they get divorced, the men generally take advantage of this knowledge and pretend that they did not know before and that now, when they find out, they want to get divorced.

Transphobia among heterosexuals and LBGTs
Being a transsexual, even in the westernized centre of Istanbul, means being constantly in struggling not only with state authoratives representing a strongly patriarchal system but also with the Istanbulite population, including family, neighbours and shop- and house owners who perform a starkly unfriendly social environment for transsexual and transgender people. Interestingly, not just heterosexual oriented people exclude transsexuals and transgender socially, politically and economically. Yet there exist also transphobia among gay and lesbian people, another reason for Demet and Ebru, who worked in a well established LGBT organisation to open the first little association for transvestites and transsexuals.While many gays and lesbians feel that “transgender” is simply a name for a part of their own LGBT community, others actively reject the idea that transgender people are part of their community, seeing them as entirely separate and distinct. In the latter cases it is for instance controversely debated if transsexuals are homosexuals or not. The old discussion among scholars that are involved in gender studies becomes here a precarious tool for discrimination: What is the difference between gender and sexuality? If for example a transwoman is attracted only to other women, she is either lesbian by nature, being a woman, or is otherwise a heterosexual man which causes transphocic LGBT to exclude other transvestites transsexuals from their community. The implacability of the question whether a transgender person considers him- or herself as homosexual or not has been overcome by the rise of Queer Theory in the 1990s and the Queer community, which defines “queer” as embracing all variants of sexual identity, sexual desire, and sexual acts that fall outside normative definitions of heterosexuality. Thus a heterosexual man or woman as well as a transgender person of any sex can be included in the category of queer through their own choice.

More information on the webpage of the lgbtt group: http://www.istanbul-lgbtt.org/index.htm

or on other LGBT platforms in Turkey

LGBT Rights Platform

Kaos GL
LGBTT Association

Lambdaistanbul
LGBT Solidarity Association

MorEL (PurpleHand)
Eskisehir LGBT Initiative

Pembe Hayat (Pink Life)
LGBT Association

Piramid LGBT Diyarbakir
Initiative 

Siyah Pembe Ucgen (Black Pink Triangle) Izmir Association

Cases of hate crimes against transsexuals, transgender and transvestites who have been murdered in Turkey in the last two years:

On 15 July 2008 Ahmed Yıldız was shot dead in Üsküdar, Istanbul
On 10 November 2008, transsexual Dilek Ince was shot dead in Ankara.
On 19 December 2008, an unidentified transsexual was shot dead with two bullets through the chest at a roadside in Gebze.
On 10 March 2009, transsexual Ebru Soykan was stabbed to death at her home in Cihangir, Istanbul.
On 20 March 2009, transvestite L.D. (29) was stabbed in the stomach and wounded by three people in Eskisehir.
On 22 March 2009, the body of a transvestite, whose head and sexual organ had been cut off, was found in a rubbish container in Bursa.
On 27 March 2009, Yasar Sert (35) killed Sükrü Gençer (57) for suggesting a sexual relation (Edirne).
In Istanbul, the bodies of Yasar Mizrak (44), Mehmet Naci Zeyrek (30), Enes Arici (25) and Ercan Coskun were found in a well. The murderer, Özkan Zengin, said he had killed them for being gay.
On 11 April 2009, Melek K. (25) was stabbed to death in her home in Ankara.
See full article on this case on: http://bianet.org/english/gender/113960-transsexual-melek-s-killer-arrested” http://bianet.org/english/gender/113960-transsexual-melek-s-killer-arrested

istanbul – ode an eine stadt

stadt der tausend gesichter.
wieviele welten hat eine welt?

istanbul, mein herz blutend in deinen eingeweiden
wenn sich deine katzen streiten und ihre schrillen schreie sich anhören
wie die einsamer babies in ihren wiegen
wenn sich auf der fähre die ruhe zwischen den kontinenten in mir ausbreitet
mit einem çay und in begleitung der möwen

Foto: Esin Demirel

wenn die menschen sich gegenseitig auf den strassen liebevoll ‘bruder’ und ’schwester’ nennen

wenn der erste herzerschütternde ruf des muezzins durch die mahalles tönt

gefolgt von einer kurzen atempause, stillstand für den bruchteil einer sekunde
bevor sich die wege der menschen wieder verknoten, wie kabelsalate in internetcafes

istanbul, meine ohren verloren in deinem klang
wenn der niemals endende verkehr in der ferne sich bei geschlossenen augen anhört
wie das rauschen des meeres

wenn die çaylöffel ritualisiert synchron in den gläsern rühren
ungeduldig auf den zucker warten der sich in dem tee löst und im blut

Foto: Esin Demirel

wenn die reklame aus den kehlköpfen der werbenden lokalbesitzer kommt
“kommt leute, kommt essen! ihr werdet nicht drum rum kommen,
früher oder später werdet ihr hunger bekommen!”
wenn der flehende gesang deiner strassenmusiker meinen körper vibrieren lässt

wenn ich meine 70-jährige nene höre wie sie gerade das fünfte mal an diesem tag betet
und 10 minuten später flucht: “der hurensohn soll sich endlich verpissen!”
wenn die stimmen deiner hochzeiten durch die strassen schwirren

wenn ich im bus sitze, der bosporus sich auf beiden fensternseiten
vor unseren augen erstreckt und meinen sitznachbar gedankenverloren sagt:
“das meer sieht heute aus wie ein bettlaken” und ich grinsen muss weil
im türkischen das wort für bettlaken (çarşaf) auch das bezeichnet was wir
als burka kennen
taksim und seine kakophonie bei nacht, wo sich kommerz und wahnsinn die hand geben

istanbul, meine nase verirrt in deinem duft
wenn der saure schweissgeruch im bus sich mit den billigen parfums
und abgasen auf dem city-highway vermischt
wenn der stewart im bus oder der lokalbesitzer gelbes kolonia in unsere hände schüttet
stinkend erfrischend
wenn der duft der frischen sesamkringel die abgase und fleisch-schwaden übertüncht

istanbul, meine zunge tastend in deinem fleisch
wenn die oliven aus den fässern auf dem wochenbazar in meinen mund wandern

Foto: Esin Demirel

das cremige geschmackserlebnis der lahana-dolmas
vom teyse fatima laden in der ömer hayyam caddesi
wenn ich tutku-kekse und profiterol on ice verschlinge

wie andere menschen hier linsensuppe
wenn der saure regen in meine kehle fällt und sich durch die
löcher in meinen schuhen frisst

istanbul, meine hand fühlend auf deiner haut
wenn ich die weissen bohnen durch meine finger rieseln lasse wie sandkörner am strand
wenn ich deine alten gemäuer berühre, zeitreisen in dein innerstes unternehme

Foto: C. Kern

wenn ich in gedanken über die vielen falten in deinem gesicht
von ihrem lachen angesteckt werde

wenn ich deine granatäpfel und feigen vom baum pflücke

küsse des kennenlernens und verabschiedens
wenn ich deine katzen streichle, die obdachlosenheime haben

im gegensatz zu den menschen

Foto: Esin Demirel

istanbul, meine augen tauchend in deinem anblick
wenn die laden-besitzer bei nacht das schmutzig-glänzende wasser
vor ihren türen ausschütten, es sich seine wege bahnt durch die rillen,

ritzen, gräben und strassen, vorbei an den menschen-füssen, ratten und kakerlaken
wenn ich noch immer nach mülleimern suche, die schon längst abgeschraubt wurden,
damit niemand mehr bomben in ihnen verstecken kann
wenn leben face-to-face kommunikation heisst und sitzen eine neue dimension bekommt

wenn der mann vor seinem mobilen kopierer den generator anwirft

die vor der polizei davonrennenden roma, die ihre blumenstrauesse packen um
fünf minuten später wieder anselber stelle zu stehen und zu rufen: “bir million, biiiiir million!”

wenn ich die gläubige muslimin auf der strasse sehe, verhüllt in ihre burka, neben
der modernen türkin im minirock und pumps
wenn ich den blinden saz-spieler auf der strasse sehe
der schlechteste sänger istanbuls, dessen sohn ihm für stunden das mikrofon hält
die vor zuckersirup und honig tropfenden leckereien in den schaufenstern der pattiserien
die abermillionen lichter der stadt als wären sie heruntergefallene sterne
das wasser das den rakı zur löwenmilch macht
wir, alchemisten der nacht, berauscht von dem was wir sehen können und wollen
auf der suche nach einer bar die qual der wahl, in jedem haus in jedem stockwerk
sesam öffne dich

der verwunderte blick des mondes wenn er auf uns herunterschaut

“Wir erkennen die Türken als Türken an, aber sie uns nicht als Kurden”

Es ist Sonntag in Dıyarbakır/Amed auf dem 1. Mesopotamischen Sozialforum/Amed Camp und die Sonne scheint noch immer unberührt vom kommenden Herbst. Auf dem Gelände tanzen Besucher, essen selbst gebackene Gözleme, debattieren. Es wird viel gelacht. Die Idylle trügt. Das wird spätestens klar, als fünf Kriegsflugzeuge nacheinander über uns hinwegdonnern um irgendwo in den Bergen eine Operation zu fliegen. Ich unterhalte mich gerade mit zwei 16-jährigen Jungs. Rhetorisch versierter als so mancher Politiker, den ich reden gehört habe, sprechen sie darüber was Freiheit für sie bedeutet, weshalb sie sich für Politik interessieren.

Özgür und Emin auf dem 1. Mesopotamischen Sozialforum/ Amed Camp

“Freiheit”, sagt Özgür, “bedeutet nicht morgens aufzustehen ins Auto zu steigen, zur Arbeit zu fahren und abends wieder nach Hause zu fahren. Freiheit, so wie sie heute verstanden wird, ist nichts anderes als die moderne Form eines Sklavereisystems.” Sein Freund Emin gibt ein Beispiel:”Viele unserer Verwandten sind im Gefängnis. Wenn wir sie besuchen, dürfen wir nicht kurdisch mit ihnen sprechen, obwohl es gesetzlich nun schon seit einigen Jahren erlaubt ist. Fall wir uns der Polizei widersetzten, drücken sie uns eine türkische Flagge in die Hand, mit der wir dann zweimal ums Gefängnis laufen müssen.” “Und genau hier fängt das Problem an”, ergänzt Özgür. “Wir erkennen die Türken als Türken an, aber sie uns nicht als Kurden.”
Bereits in der Grundschule hochgradig politisiert, ist es in Amed und dem Rest der kurdischen Gebiete möglich mit Kindern politische Diskussionen zu führen. Während in unseren Breitengraden, politisches Interesse, wenn überhaupt, dann nach Abschluss der Schule bzw. in der Universität von Belang wird, gehört Politik hier so zum Alltag wie das täglische Brot.
“Warum ich mich für Politik interessiere? Weil ich fafür kämpfe, dass die nächste Generation nicht mehr unterdrückt wird,” erklärt der Junge mit strotzendem Selbtsbewusstsein. “Wenn ich nicht kämpfe, werde ich assimiliert. Und das würde bedeuten ich werde Türke.”

Bilder einer Demonstration in Dıyarbakır/Amed

Die Situation in Dıyarbakır ist gespannt. Schon seit Jahrzehnten, denn hier herrscht Krieg. Auch wenn sich viele militärische Operationen und Kämpfe mit den kurdischen Guerilla in den Bergen abspielen, befindet sich die so genannte Hauptstadt Kurdistans im Ausnahmezustand. In jeder Familie im Krieg gefallene, Vermisste, in den Bergen lebende Guerillas. Nicht endende Polizeikontrollen, unzählige Verhaftungen, Kriegsfliegeralarm, fast tägliche Demonstrationen. Wenn einmal wieder zwei Duzend Parlamentarier aus der DTP (Partei der demokratischen Gesellschaft) festgenommen werden, werden ohne Weiteres auf die Schnelle tausende von Menschen auf der Strasse mobilisiert. Während des Sozialforums in Amed vergangene Woche befanden sich unter den Demonstranten auf einmal auch ein paar hundert EuropäerInnen aus unterschiedlichen linken Spektren, die für eine andere Welt protestiert haben….

Nein zu Operationen und Verhaftungen!

Kopfbedeckung a la Ost und West

Politisierte und Plastikbewaffnete Jugend auf den Strassen von Amed

Als unser Demonstrationszug vorbeizieht jubeln die Kinder...

auf den Mauern...

die Erwachsenen auf den Dächern...

...und Strassen

youth in turkey: multiple political identities

A recent study by by psychology professor Selçuk Sirin came to stunning results concerning the political identities of Turkish youth. Yet, it is worth noting that 63% of the respondents were university students (93% were urban, 79% middle or upper class). This makes the results somewhat less useful in analyzing Turkish society as a whole. However, Selçuk Sirin concludes that

“young people in Turkey are not buying into this split idea of left vs. right or Islamists vs. Secularists. Young people in Turkey have multiple identities. They combine patterns of political identity like religious identification, the degree to which one feels part of the Turkish nation and the feeling of belonging to what we call the “secular movement” or “Atatürkism”…

We asked several questions about discrimination in terms of religion, ethnicity, gender and political views. The numbers vary, but the one area in which young people feel most mistreated is the area of political views. Most young people in Turkey experience discrimination not because of their gender, ethnicity or religion, but because of their political views. This impression reflects a political environment that is almost toxic and treats the “other” as an enemy. When young people display their political views in that kind of environment, they get punished…

Armenian youths are quite comfortable in Turkey, which is a surprising finding…The Kurdish youths who took part in our study feel hopeless about the future. The same is true of Alevis, when compared to other religious groups…

The majority of CHP supporters and the majority of DTP supporters would leave Turkey if they had the chance…”

Read a small summary of the report that can also be downloaded @:http://www.kamilpasha.com/2009/09/15/political-identities-of-turkish-youth/

Read the full article @: http://www.qantara.de/webcom/show_article.php/_c-476/_nr-1215/i.html

From Pakistan to Greece – the story of an Afghan refugee part 2

It was the 19th of January, my birthday. It was freezing. We were six persons in a small boat. The ocean water looked very dangerous. At one point, he youngest of us, a 14-year old boy, wanted to change his place in the boat. He slipped and fell down into the water. He couldn’t swim. Somehow we brought him back to the boat. After that happened, I was scared to death. One of my friend said ‘If I arrive in Greece I will kill one cow. The other one said: ‘If I arrive, I kill two cows’. But none of them killed any of the cows so far.

Azadi is laughing and with him the deep wrinkles that highlight his eyes like a corona the sun. Like many other refugees who get stranded on the Greek island Lesvos, Azadi escaped the war in Afghanistan. When he arrived, he was 19. That was one year ago. Because of the ethnic diversity in Afghanistan and his long journey to the fortress Europe, Azadi speaks many languages: Pashtu, Urdu, Farsi, Hindi, Greek, Turkish and English. I asked him about his long journey from Afghanistan to Greece. Because he escaped Afganistan with his mother and little brother several years ago to keep on living in Pakistan, this is where the story, that he is willing to share, starts.

If you cross the border from Pakistan to Iran, it means you risk your life. If the border patrol sees you, they have the permission to shoot you immediately. When the mafia took us in a truck from Pakistan to Teheran, the capital of Iran, we were 60 people in one truck. Sometimes they put 80 people inside. It took 24 hours. There was no food, no water. Nothing. You had to sit the whole time. You can’t stand. You are not allowed to ask for anything. No moving. No toilet. There were kids and women. A two year old child died in the truck. If the police would have caught us, they deport us back to Afghanistan. When we arrived near Teheran, the mafia dropped us. From there we had to walk to the border. The mafia said: ‘Be quick, run!’ First I couldn’t walk because I had to sit the whole time. I tried to, but I fell down. I was walking with other refugees for 40 hours. Some people walk one week. We had a small bottle of water for six people.
In Van, next to the Border, they put us in another truck. This time we were 70 to 80 people. Most of the people die here, on the way from Van, at the Turkish-Iranian border, to Istanbul, because it’s a very hard way. It takes more than 30 hours to arrive in Istanbul. In the big city the mafia releases you, if you can pay. I paid. But there were people who had not enough money. All the time, the mafia asks for money. During the traffic they say, the police is waiting outside, we have to pay them. And you have to because you are in the middle of nowhere, there is no place to go, no water, no food. And also on the borders you have to pay. To come from Pakistan to Greece, it cost me around 5000 US Dollar. But they are not only rich people who flee the country. In general, if people have too many problems, poor or rich, they start selling their lives. They sell whatever they can, they collect money from their families.
The refugees who did not have enough money in Istanbul were beaten up by the mafia who gave a telephone to call their families and to ask if they can send money over. They keep you as long as you can’t pay.

There is almost no tone in his voice left. It sounds as if he would get not enough oxygen. He looks to the ground. He says nothing. Sometimes for minutes. The struggle he fights is visible on his face. It is as if something would pull him back telling me all this. Then unexpectedly, he gathers some strength, continues telling about the last part of his journey. The part they travelled all by themselves. Almost.

From Turkish mainland to Lesvos it took us five hours. At the western coast of Turkey the mafia told us ‘you have to go to the lights that you can see on the other side over there, this is Greece’. When we left with our boat, the Turkish navy saw us on the ocean. One of them called us, he asked: ‘Hey brother where do you go?’ We said ‘We go to Greece!’ and then ‘See you, bye bye’. They just let us go. The next police we saw was not Frontex. It was the Greek navy. They came and said: ‘Hey you, stupid,’ and they used other bad words, ‘where do you go?’ We said: ‘We need help, we want to go to Greece’. And then they said: ‘Go and die, we can not help you, go back to Turkey’. We said: ‘Okay’, and we turned the boat. So we went back and tried it again. The Greek navy came again and said: ‘Why are you here we told you to go back to Turkey’. ‘Yes’, we said, ‘but we want to go to Greece’. This time they took us, called the Pagani detention centre to ask if they have space for six afghan men. Then they took us to the hospital to x-ray and at two o’clock in the night they dropped us in Pagani. We knew about Pagani before. But we thought it’s a refugee camp with the facilities for refugees. We didn’t know it’s a prison. Pagani has to be closed because it is not a welcome centre. It’s a prison. There are no facilities for refugees. Even people who are here legally can’t do nothing.

Released migrants at Pagani waiting for the bus that brings them to the so called freedom

The prison gate opens and one by one runs for the bus. note the amount of luggage.

The big joy - celebrating of released migrants in the bus

Azadi was kept three weeks in the prison Pagani before he was released to an open camp for minors on the same island. The open camp is a former hospital for mental diseases in the middle of a forest, one hour by bus from Mytilini and one more hour by foot. In contrast to Pagani, the open camp in Aiassos is a paradise. An isolated paradise. The hundred young men who live here are free to leave the house whenever they want. They are on an island anyways. They can’t go nowhere. There are courses in Greek and sometimes in German, depending the volunteer’s countries of origin. Several volunteers, a Greek lawyer, two afghan cooks and a security officer are working there. Interpreters are lacking. There is a computer room. But most of the time the internet is not working. There is also a sports room. But right now it is stuffed with forty bunk beds that were ordered for new refugees who arrived recently in Lesvos. In very rare cases the refugees can work in Aiassos or nearby. Usually during the olive harvest. Most of them hang around in the house or the huge garden. They wait. For something. Azadi stayed one year in the open camp.

You get information about what you can do after prison from your friends. In Azadi you have a lot of free time, you talk. When I got the informations, I realized that this country is really bad for refugees. It is not a safe place for us. No place where you can think about a future. I have a friend from Afghanistan with very good education. He came to Greece to go to university. He got political asylum. But there is no way. He can’t pay his accommodation here. There is nobody who helps him, who shows him around even. They don’t care for you. You have to do everything by yourself. Even the organisations for refugees do not care really. They maybe tell you: Look you have to make it like this or like that but they don’t care in the end. Nobody here provides nothing for refugees. Even migrants who have the possibility to work, like him, who have political asylum, can’t find work. In the end even if you get the citizenship here, they can send you back.

Azadi has not been deported back. Maybe it was because he is able to communicate in many languages. Maybe because he is one of the few who got the political asylum. Maybe because he was lucky in unlucky times. He knows that being lucky is a condition that can vanish like a little boat in the big ocean sometimes does. Some of his friends have been hindered on their way. He knows their stories like his own.

In Greece when they try to deport you back to your country, the Greek police sends you to Alexandroupolis usually, close to the Turkish border. Then the Greek border patrol opens some fire in the night. At this time nobody notices that we are going to be sent back. They are scared of the media, of the Turkish army. With the fire the Turkish border patrol understands something happened. So they come and take us and sent us back with the plane to Afghanistan. But you have to pay your ticket. If you can’t pay, you have to go to a Turkish prison. I know people who had to stay in prison because of that for two years. Because they couldn’t pay their own deportation-ticket.

One year in Lesvos. Has he really been here the whole time? What happened during this one year? Did he try to go on, to reach another European country?

I decided to go to Athens and from there with the plane to Italy. I had faked papers. The police caught me on the airport and I had stay in prison for six days. But believe me, there is no other way than fake papers. You have to risk, even though we know that the police catches us many times and it is possible that they send us back to our country, there is no other chance. Now Greece has a new law that if you get caught at the airport with fake papers, you will stay for three months in prison. But there are certain days were it is easier for migrants to cross borders. Usually the tourist season is good or christmas.