from the east...

Being without judgment

I have come a long distance from a place I am getting ready to call home, in an old and trembling train. It was this long train ride for over 30 hours that brought me to southeastern Turkey for the first time. I was invited to co-host a training for youth workers on youth democracy projects which is part of the EU youth programme. I try to arrive with no judgment – how realistic is that – as eastern part of Turkey has been a no-go in 80s through 90s due to armed struggle of Kurdish guerillas and the civil war which is still going on to a lesser degree. Since I come from the west from a more privileged background and learned myths about east, I am aware that a lot of unlearning needs to happen which really excites me. What an intense practice of carrying shadows and judgments yet trying to receive people as openly as possible.

After the training in Gaziantep which is economically most well off city in the region, I hop on a bus to go to Diyarbakir which is one of the most densely populated cities by Kurdish people. My Kurdish friend who teaches in a small village of Diyarbakir invites me to spend a few days with him and I find myself quite nervous about traveling to the countryside the night before. I am surprised by my own fears suddenly so visible yet I continue the journey.

After changing three vehicles I am in a tiny village where everyone is Kurdish. Some people don’t even speak Turkish. This is surreal for me even though I knew what I was coming into. I feel like a foreigner who doesn’t know anything about this particular reality. Children are children like everywhere and they receive me with joy and warmth. “my teacher, my teacher” they yell after me – because I am a friend of their teacher - , they follow me everywhere, they keep smiling and waving. Not many visitors come to this village.

The conflict between Kurds and Turks is complicated, dates back in history and I don’t know anything about it. Although I have questions and need to understand the hows and whys intellectually, I am more interested in meeting the human story without getting entangled in what’s right and wrong. And this proves to be challenging as I have my own opinions about the conflict and the violence. Sometimes I find myself in a fishbowl of questions and worries; luckily the children reach out, carefree and lighthearted and bring me back to their playground.

My friend is teaching in an elementary school where there is only one classroom with 27 children from 4 different grades. Two teachers actually teach in the same classroom, each teacher responsible for two grades. Confusing, isn’t it? Most children don’t even speak a word of Turkish when they arrive the elementary school. Yet the curriculum is not designed according to this fact: these children are expected to study the same curriculum in Turkish as Turkish children who are already competent in Turkish. You might be wondering how this works. Well, it works poorly. Most children who are finishing elementary school are still struggling to read and write in Turkish. They don’t study their native language Kurdish at all.

I participated a little in the classroom, again immersed in mixed feelings. It gives me joy to see these children, as beautiful as any other children, curious, playful and it breaks my heart to see them trying to learn a language, to learn anything at all, under a curriculum that doesn’t recognize their situation. Still they keep smiling, reading, writing…

In the afternoon we go for a walk in the village…soon enough there are about 10 children around us, all speaking to us at the same time. I take their photos and they love it! Then my friend sends them away as we walk out of the village into the naked and yellow landscape. They don’t take long to find their way to us and I immediately launch into my zero waste campaign. Looking around the vast land surrounding us, we spot a lot of waste and play the game of collection. In minutes, we have a little mountain of trash in our midst, children break into laughter and yell at me to take more photographs, this time documenting their accomplishment.

It is so easy to be with them as they don’t expect or judge; yet so challenging as it makes my own judgments and anxieties so visible. I often struggle to let go of “I have to teach them something meaningful” until I remember it is enough to be fully myself in their presence…