Friday, September 05, 2014
If This is a Man
You who live safe
In your warm houses,
You who find, returning in the evening,
Hot food and friendly faces:
Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud,
Who does not know peace,
Who fights for a scrap of bread,
Who dies because of a yes or a no.
Consider if this is a woman
Without hair and without name,
With no more strength to remember,
Her eyes empty and her womb cold
Like a frog in winter.
Meditate that this came about:
I commend these words to you.
Carve them in your hearts
At home, in the street,
Going to bed, Rising:
Repeat them to your children.
Or may your house fall apart,
May illness impede you,
May your children turn their faces from you.
Introductory Poem to Memoir of Auschwitz:
Se Questro e un Uomo (If This is a Man)
The weather-worn and care-bent man, with calloused and arthritic hands, harnessed the donkey, and siting to one side of a rough hewn cart set off down the dirt track to his olive grove, some two kilometres away from the tumble down farmhouse only he and his ancient wife now inhabited on the edge of al-Jab’a village. He whistled softly in the early morning air but sensed on the dry wind that something was wrong, something was not right. Reaching the grove, which had been harvested by his father and grandfather before him, he walked towards its centre where the totem tree, the Announcer stood, knarled and laden. Reaching up to the branches, as he had done every morning this past week, he twisted off an olive and bit into it. They are ready, he said to himself but decided to be certain. He reached up again…
Suddenly his hand was slapped away with vicious force and the plucked olive sent flying through the air. Other olives fell to the ground as his hand slammed into branches. The old man turned to his left, towards the shadow in the early morning sun. The pockmarked face of a very young sergeant in the fatigues of the IDF was glaring at him.
‘Why?’ The old farmer asked in Arabic but was met with a grunt. ‘Why?’ He asked again, this time in Hebrew.
‘Here there is no why!’ The sergeant grunted again, pointing to a sign he had tacked to a tree with mocking disdain etched on his face. ‘Hurry up and get lost. These groves are now part of Israel.’
The old farmer began to protest but was hit between the shoulders with the butt of the soldier’s gun. The soldier then herded him towards the donkey and cart and watched with a sickly smile the sobbing man’s painful efforts in trying to lift the rope harness and take the road back up the hill.
In my imagination, in a confiscated olive grove south of Bethlehem, echoes of Primo Levi’s encounter with a guard in Auschwitz, recounted in his memoir If This is a Man (Survival in Auschwitz), resonated: ‘Warum ?(why?)’ Levi had asked when a camp guard had slapped away an icicle that Levi had broken off to quench his thirst. ‘Hier ist kein warum (Here there is no why)’ the guard had answered. Of 650 Italian Jews who arrived with Levi at Auschwitz in February 1944 only 20 were alive to leave the camp 11 months later when it was liberated.
No legal manipulations, no Eastern Yiddish exhortations can possibly justify Israel’s confiscation not only of the olive groves but any sense of acknowledgement of the rights of the Palestinian peoples they are determined to keep down in the mud and who die as Levi wrote, ‘because of a yes or a no’ but with no reason ‘why’.
Israel – her eyes empty and her womb cold like a frog in winter!
Israel – her eyes empty and her womb cold like a frog in winter!
Monday, August 04, 2014
Sunday, July 27, 2014
It is an essential characteristic of our individual existence to have developed an awareness of ‘self’, an inner space where we have established coping mechanisms to allow us to fully function as human beings. These psychological and sociological mechanisms, operate to harmonise our interactions beyond the self, beyond for example the dynamics of a family precinct; but within the economic and social boundaries of a community, and within the political limits of control of a nation.
There are very few entirely selfless people where their entire existence is centrifugal rather than centripetal. For most of us the selfishness of that inner space, that inner territory, makes dealing with issues, events, actions at the extreme ‘edges’ of our individual, familial, communal or national perceptions of ‘territory’ difficulty. This failure to cope with the ‘territories’ peripheral to our understanding, in turn generates feelings of fear and as a consequence of this fear a disabling defensive aggression; at an individual, familial, communal and national level.
But why should this be? The failure is much more a consequence, at both an individual and national level, of a failure to realise that the ‘edges’ at the periphery of our understanding do not really exist because within those ‘edges’ are the fulcrums of another person’s existence, other families, another community, another nation.
This failure of realisation is more a failure of reason.
The name Ukraine, derives its origin from the Slav word Kpaň (Kraj) for ‘edge’ and literally meant originally the ‘Land on the Edge’ i.e. the frontier land or territory between Christian Slav Europe and the Mongol Golden Horde and their successors the Turkic Tatars. Ukraine was Europe’s ‘Wild East” equivalent in the 12-15th Centuries of the American ‘Wild West’ of the 19th., populated respectively by Cossacks and Tatars, cowboys and Indians.
Continual raids and retreat by the Mongols and Tatars across the south eastern steppes of Europe ensured a distinct lack of central control and the emergence of hardened ‘freemen’ who organised themselves in frontier settlements for self-defence, as well as economic and political control. These settlements were known as Stanitsas and the people that populated them became known as Cossacks from the Turkish Kazak.
The Cossacks as a consequence have always pursued an independent existence.
The history of eastern Ukraine, and the history of Cossack ‘freemen’ was brought to mind when reading some of the transcripts released by the Ukrainian SBU (Secret Service) of intercepted phone calls between militia commanders – using their dissociative “noms-de-guerre”, in the immediate aftermath of the shooting down – by a Russian supplied and manned, and Insurgent controlled, BUK –SA Missile launcher – of Malaysian Airlines Flight 17 from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumbar:
The Major: “The Chernukhin (Chornukhyn) folks shot down the plane. The ones from the Chernukhin checkpoint. The Cossacks ( South Russian Don Cossacks under the control of Ataman Nikolai Kozitsyn who ‘invaded’ Ukraine in May 2014 ) who are based in Chernukhin.”
The Greek: “Yes Major.”
This tragedy occurred in an area just north of Donetsk in the very far east (almost exactly the area known as Ukraine in the 13th Century) of modern day Ukraine where there is now a battle for control between ethnic Slav Russians and ethnic Slav Ukrainians for a territory that has always been a frontier, always has had an identity of being on the 'edge'. The question arises that if by vicarious means the Russian Federation takes control of the ‘territory’ of eastern Ukraine will they be able to control the ‘freemen’ Cossacks into the future.
It must also be remembered that Russia has supported the insurrection with military and economic help and has ignored the undertakings it gave on the integrity of Ukrainian territory as recently as December 1994 in the Budapest Memorandum.
In this Memorandum on security assurances signed on December 5, 1994 to allow Ukraine accede to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons – signed by Boris Yeltsin for the Russian Federation, Bill Clinton for the USA, John Major for the United Kingdom and Leonid Kutchma for Ukraine (UN Doc A/49/765) – Russia confirmed that it would,
1. In accordance with the principles of the Final Act of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe respect the independence and sovereignty and the existing borders of Ukraine;and
2. Reaffirmed its obligation to refrain from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of Ukraine, and that none of their weapons will ever be used against Ukraine except in self-defence.
Obviously the old adage ‘Treaties are made to be broken’ holds true for the Russian Federation as indeed it does for Israel.
On May 14, 1948 Members of the People’s Council, Representatives of the Jewish Community of Eretz-Israel and of the Zionist Movement declared the establishment of a Jewish State in Eretz-Israel (Land of Israel) to be known as the State of Israel.
The solemn Declaration of the new State also appealed to the United Nations to help the Jewish people and promised to co-operate with the agencies and representatives of the United Nations… agencies of the same United Nations that Israeli tanks are now shelling, with the loss of lives of women and children taking shelter in UN buildings, during the current Israeli offensive Tzuk Eitan (Resolute Cliff) against Hamas sites in Gaza.
I do not understand how a people ( and a Nation) whose history was and is defined by the very notion of Ghettos – such as those originally established in Venice but more recently during the Holocaust of World War II in Warsaw – could possibly imagine that their ghettoization of the Gaza Strip – by land, sea and air – will ever succeed in its aspirations, no more than the Nazis achieved.
The English version for the name of the current offensive is ironically ‘Protective Edge.’ By choosing such a ‘Ukrainian’ name, such a deliberate way of engendering fear of the unknown amongst its citizens, a fear of the very ‘edge’ of reason, the aggressively self-centered, incredibly selfish Israeli State demonstrates once again that despite the hopes of allies and opponents there has never been nor ever will be an Israeli State peripheral vision of hope.In a week that one Liberian doctor died selflessly from the Ebola Virus disease he was trying to contain we have both in Russia and Israel a denial that ‘selflessness’ could possibly exist.
Wednesday, July 02, 2014
Rihla (The Journey) – was the short title of a 14th Century (1355 CE) book written in Fez by the Islamic legal scholar Ibn Jazayy al-Kalbi of Granada who recorded and then transcribed the dictated travelogue of the Tangerian, Ibn Battuta. The book’s full title was A Gift to Those who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Travelling and somehow the title of Ibn Jazayy's book captures the ethos of many of the city and country journeys I have been lucky to take in past years.
This rihla is about the ancient city of Diyarbakır.
There is an exciting exhibition due to commence on the 11th July 2014 in the Chester Beatty Library, in Dublin entitled Chester Beatty’s A to Z: from Amulet to Zodiac. It is a curated exhibition of widely diverse but little known and seldom exhibited items from the huge Chester Beatty collection.
Beatty was a voracious traveller, and by this I mean that wherever he travelled he was on the lookout to add to his diverse but very important collection. One of the planned exhibits is a pamphlet entitled,
A new and large discourse of the travels of sir Anthony Sherley anight, by sea, and over land, to the Persian Empire. Wherein many straunge and wonderfull accidents: and also, the description and conditions of those countries and people he passed by: with his returne into Christendome.
The pamphlet was printed by Valentine Simmes for Felix Norton in London in 1601 and was,
Written by William Parry, Gentleman, who accompanied Sir Anthony in his travels.
Parry was part of Sir Anthony Sherley’s group of Elizabethan adventurers, dispatched by the Earl of Essex in 1598 to help the Duke of Ferrara in a dispute with the Pope only to find on arrival in Italy their services to be redundant due to the fact that the Duke had submitted to the Papal authority. Rather than return to London the adventurers went onwards, having concocted up a plan to establish diplomatic and trade links with the Shah of Persia, and borrowing money and credit along the way to enable this purpose.
On their return to London in 1601 William Parry rushed into print his account of the journey but in an introductory harangue against ‘home-bred vulgars’ who dismissed many travellers accounts as tall-tales wrote,
And as sure I am that many honest and true Travellers, for speaking the truth of their own knowledge (for in the world are many incomprehensible miracles of Nature) yet, because it exceeds the belief of the inexperienced and home-bred vulgars, they are by them concluded liers for their labours.
William Parry was not the only early 17th century traveller to suffer this dismissive fate, and it was to happen to a lesser or greater extent to a far more important ‘gentleman’ traveller, this time from the Ottoman Empire: Evliya Çelebi (1611- c.1685), author of a famous ten-book (five volumes) work, the Seyahatname, The Book of Travels.
Çelebi is the Turkish word for ‘gentleman’ – almost akin in application to hidalgo in Spanish influenced countries or Esquire in Anglo-Saxon usage – and thought to be a derivative of the Greek work kurios or kyrios: master.
Snowdrift clearance on road to Mt. Nemrud
These thoughts came to mind as I waited in my car beside the small ramshackle café-office that controlled the ferry river crossing on the Route 360 between Adiyaman and Siverek in April 2012. I had descended from the peaks of Nemrut Dag where snow-drifts had made access to the mountain-top temple complex impossible to the dry, intense heat of the river valley.
The Ferry from Hutkoy to Firat Iskelesi across the Euphrates (Firat)
My slight irritation with chaotic queuing evaporated when I took in the scene before me of the lazy snow-fed brown-green waters meandering by. This was the Euphrates, the Akkadian Purattu, the Turkish Firat; one of the great rivers of the world and one of the arteries of western civilisation’s evolution. Kurdish families and tobacco traders with their vans piled high waited rushed to embark, sharing ice cream and excited chatter.
Looking North along the Euphrates from Firat Iskelesi
I thought of these fellow passengers and the peoples who had crossed and re-crossed the great geographically defining river over the millennia; in pleasure or pursuit, in fear or in harmony: Neanderthal and sapiens, hunter gathers and pastoralists, Hurrians and Akkadians, Assyrians and Hittites, Uratians and Medes, Macedonians and Romans, Achaemenids and Selucids, Sassanids and Pathians, Bedouin and Kurd, Mongols, Tartars and il-Khans, Armenians, Georgians and Turkomen, Byzantine and Seljuk, Ottomans and Safavids, Sunni and Shia, Nestorian and Uniate, Crusader and Jihadist, traveller and trader.
Terrain of the route from Mt. Nemrud to Diyarbakir
Road Route from Mt Nemrud to Diyarbakir
Leaving this Irish traveller for one moment I want to return to Evliya Çelebi:
“Let it be known to you all, that the bearer of this present letter
from our humble self, Evliya Çelebi by name, is an honourable,
and a man of peace. He has the desire and inclination to
be a world-traveller and to investigate places, cities, and the
races of men, having no evil intention in his heart to do injury
to or harm anyone.”
Letter of introduction from the Oecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul
for the traveller Evliya Çelebi, circ.1667
Evliya Çelebi, was born in Istanbul in 1611. Known initially as Mehmed Zilli he was the son of the chief Ottoman court goldsmith and a relative of the later Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire, Melek Ahmed Pasha. Educated in the Palace schools he became an accomplished linguist, musician, a reciter of the Koran from memory, and acknowledged wit and raconteur. In his early 20s he was ensnared by the desire to travel, to observe and to describe the places and peoples of his world. Most of the journeys had some official function either for the army or as a diplomat but all involved diversions to try and satisfy his insatiable curiosity. Finally retiring from those travels in 1672 after a pilgrimage to Mecca and an exploration of the upper Nile he settled in Cairo and began to write his enormous description of those travels.
After his death Çelebi’s Seyahatname remained in the private library of Ozbek Bey, the Emir ul-Hac for Egypt until sent as a present in 1742 to the great bibliophile, Kizlar Agasi Haci Besir Aga, the ruler in all but name of the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Mahmud I between 1730 and 1746. Early translations of small parts of the entire work and its very unconventional style seemed to confirm the ‘home-bred vulgar’ suspicion that the Seyahatname was an entertaining fairy-tale, due in part to some of Çelebi’s ‘artistic’ exaggerations, but analysis by succeeding generations of scholars highlighting the amount of detail recorded and transmitted in regard to folk-memory, languages, buildings, administrative practices, and peoples has proven the Seyahatname to be the supreme source for Ottoman historical research.
Between April and May 1655 Evliya Çelebi stopped off in Diyarbakır, while journeying with his relative Melek Ahmed to Van, where Ahmed had been appointed governor and that was where I was also heading, 357 years later, once safely across the Euphrates.
Arriving from the Siverek road I booked into my hotel located near the northern gate, Dag Kapi (Mountain Gate) of the old city. In a scene reminiscent of Belfast in the early 80s I then had to dodge around police cordons and huge water cannon mounted armoured trucks to pass between the bastions of Dag Kapi before turning left to enter the old sixteen bastioned, four entrance gated citadel on the north-east corner.
Ruins of Roman building NE corner of Diyarbakir Citadel, overlooking the
Secret Gate, Ogrun Kapi from Citadel to River Tigris below.
In the small tourist office I met by chance the very friendly manager of the restoration team. In my ignorance I cannot remember his name but he was a true gentleman so I will remember him as Çelebi, or Çel for short. Çel personally conducted me on a tour of the site, dodging the goats, including the beautifully restored St George’s Church, the old jail and the Artukanian palace in our perambulation. Afterwards he organised for tea to be brought and warned me in my travels in Diyarbakır not to wander too late into the Hasirli quarter of the city: ‘thieves live there’, he said. I burst out laughing, and Çel wondered why.
I told him that on the plane to Konya where I had started this particular journey to Diyarbakır I had told my next seat passenger, an off-duty Turkish Airlines pilot accompanying his elderly mother home from a visit to the city for medical treatment, that I was heading east. He said I should avoid the east because of the ‘Kurdish problem.’ Too many ‘thieves and scoundrels live there,’ he emphasised. Later still on the trip, while wandering around the ancient site of Harran with a local schoolteacher I also told him that I was heading further east. He told I should go wherever I want but to avoid Diyarbakır. ‘Too many thieves live there,’ he had grunted. I then said to Çel that now I finally made it to Diyarbakır he was now saying to me, like the pilot and the schoolteacher before, that the city was entirely safe except for the Hasrili quarter because of ‘thieves’. I’d bet, I said to him, that if I did wander deep into the Hasrili quarter some helpful local would then tell me the quarter is entirely safe…. except for one street or one particular house because ‘thieves’ lived there. Çel smiled and nodded, yet shrugged his shoulders in a resigned fashion before heading back to his office.
William Parry, the so-called "Gentleman" who had travelled in this part of the world in 1601 wrote with stereotypical ethnic ridicule,
“…we had six days’ journey to pass (ere we should enter the confines of Persia) through the Courdes’ (Kurds) country, which is by interpretation the thieves country. The people whereof are altogether addicted to thieving, not much unlike the wild Irish…”
I knew the Kurds and the ‘wild’ Irish would have a real affinity! However despite a real inclination to meet the mythical Ali Baba and his henchmen who had spawned such rumours that permeated across the centuries and the country I never did wander deep into the warren of high walled but very narrow streets that made up the Hasrili quarter. Only to say it is the only quarter in the city where the surrounding and enclosing basalt medieval walls have been torn down and not repaired!
On Gözlü bridge (c.1065) over the Tigris (Dicle)
Around the time that Evliya left Diyarbakır, another previous ‘gentleman’ resident of that city, the far more formal historian and geographer Kâtip Çelebi, known also as Mustafa ibn ‘Abd Allah or Hajii Kalfa(1605-1657) died in Istanbul. An accounting officer with the army he was as obsessed with collecting reference books and recorded knowledge as Evliya was with collecting stories. Also multilingual he spent the winter of 1626 and 1633 in Diyarbakır studying with the various religious authorities. His best-known book in the West is called The Balance of Truth, but from historical and geographical perspective his Tuhfat al-kibar fi asfar al-bihar (Gift to the Great ones on Naval Campaigns) and Jihannuma (Showing of the Whole World) are works of outstanding scholarship.
I am not sure if Evliya and Kâtip ever met in Istanbul or elsewhere, but they did have one teacher in common and Kâtip Çelebi was the accounting officer for the sipahis cavalry to which Evliya was attached. As Evliya had not yet committed his travel diaries and observations to an integrated whole when Kâtip died and Kâtip the scholar would not have been aware of the incalculable social and vocal history, that Evliya had recorded, albeit that of everyday life rather than the permutations of states.
Four-legged minaret of Seyh Mutahhar Mosque
As I wandered through the old town of Diyarbakır, I stopped to examine the famous detached ‘four-legged’ minaret of the Seyh Mutahhar Camii, built in 1512 at the request of Kasim Han. Locals believe that if one passes through the supporting columns seven times then their wishes will come through.
Stopping to have a strong coffee in a nearby café I and tried to imagine Kâtip and Evliya sitting there four hundred years previously arguing over the coffee the price of a good book or a watermelon.
Diyarbakır is the watermelon capital of Turkey, if not the world, and the varieties have many names such as: pembe, surme, ferikpasa, yafa, kara, alaca and Melek Emir.
Diyarbakır is the watermelon capital of Turkey, if not the world, and the varieties have many names such as: pembe, surme, ferikpasa, yafa, kara, alaca and Melek Emir.
It is certain however that Evliya would always have been good company if somewhat too scurrilous for the bookish Kâtip. For example in Evliya and Kâtip’s writings they both always referred to the military campaigns that they had participated in as the “little Jihad” but thereafter they differed. Evliya, tongue in cheek given the fact he remained a bachelor, called the “greater Jihad” making love to one’s wife whereas Kâtip referred to the “greater Jihad” as his endless quest to acquire knowledge. Despite these differences in approach they both made enormous contributions to Ottoman history and social geography and the streets of Diyarbakır still resonate with that contribution.
Diyarbakır (the Land of Copper) or as Evliya punned Diyar-ı Bakir (The Land of Virgins) [bakır is the Turkish word for copper and bakir for virgin! the I is pronounced e as in open, whereas i is pronounced ee as in feet. Atatürk changed its name from the former commonly used name Diyâr-ı Bekr (Land of the Bekr Tribe) in 1937, after expressing concern about the etymology of the name] still has its medieval black basalt walls. The blackness of the stone resonates with the long shadows of politics and fate that Diyarbakır has suffered, and continues to suffer as the ‘capital’ of the Kurdish area in Turkey. It is also a city struggling from a recent and enormous expansion with a current estimated population of 1.5 million souls it cannot cater for.
It is interesting to note from newswire reports in the past few days of Turkey’s willingness to recognise formally a Kurdish State, Kurdistan in Northern Iraq to thwart the ISIS (ISIL) fanatical new Caliphate Islamic State expansion, a willingness that is in complete contrast to sustained efforts by the Turkish state over the years to supress any notion of Kurdish nationhood.
Diyarbakır is also the only city in Turkey to have officially acknowledged and publically commemorated the Armenian Genocide of 1915. There is a memorial plaque near an old historic fountain in Anzele Park in the North-West corner of the old city which states in six languages,
We shared the pains so that they are not suffered again.
The newly-proclaimed Islamic Caliphate with their policy of Mongol-like barbarous terror and murder – previously visited on a previous Caliphate by Hidalgu and Tamerlane – of fellow Muslims have ignored this plea. I have a real concern that Diyarbakır will soon become the staging point for an all out war between the Kurds and ISIS.
Adapted Mirhab to Christian Prayer Niche in Mar Petyun
Chaldean Church, Diyarbakır