My life passed in poverty, in sheds, in jerry built squatter houses made of oil cans. I have struggled to learn a living. I have never sulked to life although I am living in same conditions even in 2000’s. In Yahya Kemal, a deeply poor Romani neighborhood, Romani people have been leaving the troubles away and living freely and also happily. Romani people, who are known with their penchant for freedom, are living happily in solidarity for isolation from captivity. Since the members of a Romani family have no money for next days, they are living with their daily bread. A family with six or seven members can hardly earn enough money through the day. Gypsies who have been forced to live for the day, have no social insurance and are living in sheds made of tin, have a deep love towards the country and Turkishness. Romani people who have being treated due to Urban Transformation which has forced them to live in places with maximum 66 square meters. We all love our country and want the politic games to end and we demand alternative urban transformation projects which will be helpful and useful for us to be accepted.
Some time, a project has been prepared and sent to governorship. The representatives of EU were there, too. Unfortunately, the local authorities did not pay enough attention. We wanted to build our houses according to standards without spending money. Some troubles occurred and the project has not taken into consideration. We demanded a land which is open to building. It has been declared that there was no proper land for it.
Recently, a local governor, whose goodwill we trust, has made a statement on a TV. He told that a sport center would be built on a water tube, which is 1000 cm, on a land which belongs to ISKI. Probably, ISKI governors, who demanded demolition of a Romani district since it was built on water line, go into action. In the past, billions of Turkish Liras were demanded from Romani neighborhood inhabitants because they are living in houses built on water line because it is more than 20 cm.
This local governor asserted that no security force can enter into the district. This expression saddened us. I want to ask him: in which district a police was killed by a Romani person? Turkish polices are our sons. Our respect is full to our nation. We don’t hang a flag of other states. Turkish flags are hanged in our houses. No one can suspect us in these main affairs.
And everyone should remember that Turkish police can enter to everyplace. Your doors are made of steel but ours by nylon and tin.
We request from the local governors that they do not use the expressions which may cause to make the people evaluate us as illegal people. Of course all the Gypsies are not same. In our community, some people may be different, like in every community. But these people are not related to millions of honest people. If there is a crime, Turkish police will be there. If it is about drugs, narcotic department will be interested in this. If it is about stealing, related department will be there. And if it is about prostitute, vice officer will be there.
While our neighborhood is the topic, nobody is talking about the six month baby who died in the tent because of freezing. It is still on our mind that the people, who had to live on the nylons under Ayazma Viaduct, were brought opposite of the contingency forces due to some wrong decisions and pursued. These people are from Hayrabolu. These people are sons and daughters of this country. These kind of events stayed in our hearts as a pain. We expect from the authorized executives that these kinds of events do not occur again.
In the past, the local governors left our neighborhoods with positive impressions. Arif Calban who was the Mayor in Kağıthane during 13 years was coming to our neighborhood without security forces. All people in our neighborhood love him. Gypsies love him.
Before the demolitions, Hasan Hüseyin Ceylan, the candidate for the Mayor of Kağıthane, came to our neighborhood. I have been the Çeribaşı of the Gypsies for 30 years and I am the representative of EU Romani in İstanbul. Please ask to Hasan Hüseyin Ceylan if we failed in love or respect. He came without difficulty and shaked hands of everyone. He drank tea of us. Please ask him if the Çeribaşı or Romani people made a mistake.
It was so hurtful that a local governor labeled us as “occupier” on TV in front of the society. I really wonder if it is true to use this word to refer to the people, who have been living in slums since 1946 due to the amnesty of development and slum houses. The reality is on the plan dated in 1977.
When the mountains opposite of us were given to some people’s control with low prices in 1977, we had been living there 30 years. Who are occupiers, us the Gypsies, or them? Someone told something I like: “We know only one occupier. And Atatürk sent them to the sea in İzmir.” What should we do not to be an occupier?
I am collecting papers and I am ignorant comparing with you. But I cannot be silent if I witness injustice. Turkish Justice considers the reality. We believe in Turkish Judicial System and demand the mistakes in urban transformation process to come to end.
In as much as building contractors work for Turkey, they should rebuild the houses of poor people for a humanely life. We are already poor. That’s not quite the ticket to damage the poor, for the one who is Muslim or Turkish.
Now, I want to explain why I chose this headline: Bloody Bread. I have a memory about this. My mother was Circassian, and my father was Roman. When I and my sister were born, they were living here in Yahya Kemal, in a cottage. They divorced when we were child. My mother started to work to buy a house through paying 2,5 Liras per month. She was collecting glass pieces from the garbage to pay this. When I was 8 or 9, I was helping to my mother. One day in a week, transporters from Paşabahçe Glass Factory were coming and we were selling these pieces to them. And my mother was loyal to religion. She was wearing a head scarf and hiding her hair.
It was Monday. My mother earned some money which was enough to buy 3 pieces of bread and 100 gram olive. She came with bread in her arms. We were hungry and waiting near the heating stove for her, like little birds. I hugged her and took the bread. Then I saw some blood on the bread. My mother tore the bed sheet, cleaned her hands with a piece of sheet and washed her hands. She said that the hand of a Turkish can be cleaned by washing. The wound was deep. The blood did not come to the end. There was no doctor on those times. Here was a village of Kağıthane. There were donkeys and horse carriage. There was no Municipality as well. My sister put tobacco and wrapped mother’s hand which was full of wounds because of the glasses. After that, we lightened the gas lamp and set the table. My mother said that we should turn off the lamp because it was still early. We ate 100 gram olive and the bread.
My mother wanted us to turn the light to hide the bloody bread. I don’t shame because of this. Because it wasn’t the blood of corrupt people. It was my mother’s whose hands were hurted by collecting the glasses from garbage to earn money for buying bread. It was the blood of an honest Turkish mother. Because of this, I chose this headline. Whenever I see a little blood, I remember this memory. And when I remember those days and the bloody bread, I fill with the tears and go to a lonely place to hide my eyes. We grew up as boys who never cry.
In conclusion, we possessed these places in this way. We paid the debts by eating bloody bread. After 50 years, our hearts are broken down since we are labeled as occupier, even it is because of the tongue twister. We just want from local authorities and other authorized people to take our demands in consideration during the urban transformation process.
*Local Roma Leader From Istanbul
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